The Unbelievable Girl Scout Cookie Caper

From the "Now It Can Be Told files ...

It was some years ago. The Unbelievables had hit their stride. 

Fashion icons. Super crime fighting studs. Upstanding gentlemen about town. Faithful keepers of the peace who were idols to multitudes from coast to coast. Our status of same internationally was quickly spreading as well.

Things were going well. Very well.

I was at the Unbelieva-Base alone when I heard the doorbell ring. I answered the door. There, standing in front of me, was a Girl Scout.

"Hi! Would you like to buy some Girl Scout Cookies?" she asked. How could I refuse? I had a dozen boxes of treats in my arms by time all was said and done.

"My buddies will love these! Thank you very much ... and good luck selling!" I told her as she bounced away, seemingly pleased at making a few sales.

The next day, I heard the doorbell ring again. From down the hall in one of the offices, I heard Jeff answer. I paid no heed until he passed by ten minutes later with more than a few cases in tow. 

Oh, look ... more cookies ...

"Look what I got: Girl Scout Cookies!" He exclaimed. 

"Heh! I forgot to tell you guys I bought some yesterday. Their in the kitchen cabinet.

Then, the following day when Jeff and I had come back from some errand, Clark greeted us excitedly: "Guys! It's Girl Scout Cookie time! One of them was hear earlier and I stocked us up for the season!" he boasted.

Clark, Clark, Clark ...

"How many did you buy?" I asked.

Clark beamed. "A dozen cases! I told you, were good to go for months!"

"Crikey! We could start our own cookie business," Jeff stated. "I bought a bunch just yesterday!"

The NEXT day the doorbell rang yet again. Surprise ... it was Girl Scouts. "Cookies?" they offered.

"Nope, thanks" Clark told them. "All of us have bought plenty. We'll be eating cookies until the end of summer!"

A stark, no-nonesense woman in Girl Scout attire came striding up to the door. "The girls have mentioned you were one of their best customers this past week. They have a quota to fulfill and they were hoping you could help them out. You'd like to help them out, wouldn't you?" she asked, already knowing the answer.

Clark "opened the door" so to speak: "What kind of quota? How close are they to hitting that number?"

"They're just a pallet away from hitting the mark. Think you could find your way to going that extra mile? I hear The Unbelievables are a pretty hot item nowadays and the Girl Scouts would certainly be appreciative of the effort. And this would be the last time we'd bother you with the trouble." The woman smiled as she finished ... and it was almost a devious smile.

Clark swore the Girl Scout den mother

looked sort of like the woman in the middle above.

But it was enough for Clark to relent. "Let me hit up the guys ..." he told her and partially closed the door.

"No!" Jeff sounded off. "We're so deep in Thin Mints we'll keep our dentist busy with all the extra appointments we'll be making!"

"Don't you dare Clark," I told him.

"But, guys, they promised ... his is it. No more. And we'll get something out of it, too: The Girl Scouts' seal of approval for upstanding community contribution. Come on ..."

Holy Samoas and Trefoils, Batman!

This is just a taste of what went into our shed ...

In the end, our outdoor storage shed was packed to bursting with Girl Scout cookies. "That's the last of them," I said to the guys when we were done putting them away later that afternoon. "I swear, it's a conspiracy ... blackmail or something. If I didn't know any better I'd say someone's pulling a fast one on us. Look: No one is answering that door for Girl Scouts again ... right?" The guys agreed.

This should have been Jeff's first clue to close the door immediately.

It wasn't a couple days later when Federal Express showed up with a double trailer parked in front of the headquarters. The delivery dude handed Jeff a bill of lading. 

It was from the Girl Scouts ...

Alternative Origins: Unicorns

Interestingly enough, we were contacted at the Unbelieva-base by a blessing of unicorns* Thursday.

Yep ... you read that right: Unicorns.

"Hello?" I answered when I saw them coming up to the false laundromat entry that fools our enemies into thinking "Hey, this isn't The Unbelievables' headquarters ..."

"Yeah ... we need a word with you guys. You busy?"

"I'm not" I told them "but the other guys aren't around. Can I help you?"

I let them in and we congregated in one of the Unbelieva-base's parlor rooms. 

"We wouldn't normally contact anyone. About anything. We're pretty secretive you understand. But this thing with Starbucks ... their new Unicorn Frappuccino ... it's pissing us off ..."

"I can't say I blame you," I confessed. "For the most part, it's getting a bad wrap. I know I wouldn't want to be associated with it ... and there it is, boom, with your name all over it."

"Check this out." One of the bigger unicorns showed me a video from his mobile phone (which perplexed me to no end):

I winced. "Ouch. And that came from a kid, no less. If you can't get the rugrats on board ... Still, I've seen a bunch of reviews about that nightmare of a concoction and none of them have been positive."

"Exactly the point," the creature said. "This kind of publicity reflects directly back to us. It could change not only the way we're perceived but also our legendary status! We're not frothy! We don't have sprinkles! We hate frappuccinos! And we certainly don't change tastes! If this keeps up our entire origin could be tainted by those yahoos at Starbucks! They didn't get permission to use our name, nothing! We're doomed ... !!!"

"Now, guys ... look," I began explaining. "This is a passing fad from those jokesters. They're only out to make a quick buck. By next month no one will even remember you're name was attached to this so-called beverage. You know it's only a five day promotion, right? That's a blink of an eye time frame. And there aren't a lot of people on board with it, anyway. That kid in the video? Probably the best promotion you can get, despite the fact it's negative. Why? Because your place in fantasy and dreams is secure. You've been around a lot longer than some monkey business promotional drink ... and with an impeccable record I might add. You're the stuff of wonder. You're regal and magical and coveted in literature. That calorie-laden sugar bomb of a drink isn't going to taint your name or history in the least. It's a joke - you are NOT. Nothing to worry about. Trust me."

"We're not so sure. It's just ... with all these "alternative facts" we've been hearing about of late we thought our good name might get people thinking this could be an alternative origin no one knew about us. We have an image to maintain, after all ... and this drink, it's a nightmare."

"Listen to me: You. Have. Nothing. To. Worry. About. These things balance out. You'll see ..."

"How? How can you be certain they'll balance out?"

"Well ... if what I've told you up to this point hasn't convinced you, here. Check this out. I think you'll be please with the yin and yang of it":

*Yes ... a group of unicorns is known as "a blessing" ...

Something small and sneaky this way comes

"Svxvxvssslisten up, Unbelievabssslllsxzz, forget about the whole svxvsz 72 zxsxz I had visitorszxzzss outa town zzzssx uncle zzsxszxAunt Clara and ffzxzsff Victoria Sandwich afararaaaa-a-a-a-zzzss. I'll be callingzzzfrfrfr Mondayccchhhh fffrfzzzss. So there!" - Yesterday

With that warning, we agreed that we should pay particular attention to the phone ringing and that we should take turns monitoring incoming calls. I drew the first shift and it didn't take long...

*R-i-i-n-g!*
ME: Hello, this is The Unbelievables.
CALLER: Hello! You've just won a...
ME: Oh, we don't have time for this!
(Click)

*R-i-i-n-g!*
ME: Hello, this is The Unbelievables.
CALLER: You dare to hang up on Zigfried?!? Your insolence will cost you dearly!
ME: That was you? You sound much clearer than you did yesterday.
CALLER ZIGFRIED: Ah, sorry about that. I was driving through a tunnel.
ME: Whatever. So, for all this drama, you're nothing more than a two-bit timeshare salesman?
ZIGFRIED: What? No!
ME: Then why did you say we've won some stupid prize?
ZIGFRIED: Ah, but if you hadn't hung up, you'd have heard me say 'You've just won a major butt-kicking from me, the great Zigfried!'
ME: You do realize that people threatening us with major butt-kickings is pretty standard around here, right? Not exactly the most creative way to get our attention.
ZIGFRIED: Ah, but you have never faced an adversary like me! You have no idea what you're up against!
ME: We do, actually. We've seen video of you in action. You're very small. Not that small people are incapable of accomplishing things because of course they are. But your fighting style of throwing yourself at people is rendered ineffective against anyone who anticipates it and simply catches you as they might an overly enthusiastic Golden Retriever puppy, followed by punting you off a bridge, not as anyone would do to a Golden Retriever puppy.
ZIGFRIED: Ah, but you have forgotten my uncanny ability to infiltrate any secure facility, such as your vaunted Unbelieva-base!
ME: Stop saying 'ah' at the start of every sentence. It's unnecessary and pretentious.
ZIGFRIED: Listen to me you buffoon! Svxvxvsss I will sxzz be theresvxvsz zxsxzbefore you realizezxzzss zzzssx zzsxszx at which point it will ffzxzsff  too late-a-a-a-zzzss. Zzzfrfrfr fffrfzzzss.
(Click)

So we know:

• He's sneaky.
• He didn't deny being small.
• It's hard to remember if it's spelled 'Zigfried' or 'Zigfreid' or Zigried' even. All of them look wrong.
• He feels it necessary to point things out by beginning sentences with 'ah', which I find patronizing. 
• He's coming to attack us and he has to pass through a tunnel to get here. 

Hmm, I'd say we're at least partially prepared to deal with whatever comes next.

Halloween Spoil Sports

"Why not a Halloween drive? the question was asked from across the dinner table while the three of us were repasting in the Unbelieva-Base one evening.

And so was born another terrific Unbelievable idea, right there and then.

"We'll gather up donated costumes and distribute them throughout the tri-state area to whoever requests them!" came one thought.

"Candy donations, too!" came another.

"No doubt some of the little tykes - or at least their parents, who are more than welcome to join in - will want to dress to a 'T' just like us, cravats and play Lobster Rage Fists just so!" came a third.

"Hey! We can even throw our own open house Halloween extravaganza here at the Unbelieva-Base! The kids will be clamoring to come join the fun!" came yet another.

Apple dunking! Pin the tail on the dragon! "Graveyard" cupcakes! Festive orange and black popcorn balls! Pumpkin carving! Jello brains! Scary stories! A chili cook-off for the adults! A terrific time will be had by all! What could possibly go wrong?

What indeed?

And that's when the Society of Idiotic Ludicrous and Laughable Yucksters (the "SILLYs") took note and decided they needed to throw a wrench in the machine.

And what a wrench it was ... because these folks have priors, little did we know:

 

Fortunately, The Unbelievables know how to deal with these types of weirdos ... 

Getting Dr. Hardick up and running

 "Needless to say, we immediately hit it off with Dr. Hardick."

Michael is right. On a personal level, which is what's most important when it comes to doctor-patient relationships, we were fast friends. But when it came to resources Dr. Hardick needed to set up his practice, he found the Unbelieva-base... wanting.

MICHAEL: Okay, doc. Here's your office. You're all set. See ya.
DR. HARDICK: Wait a minute. Where is everything?
JEFF: What do you mean? It's all there. Your desk, stocked with pens and notepads. A padded table for us to lay on while you look at our what-not's. There's even an eye chart on the wall.

DR. HARDICK: But what about actual medical supplies?
CLARK: Ohhh, I get it. He wants a nurse. I'm on it. I'll be right back.
MICHAEL: I don't think that's what he...
JEFF: Forget it. He's already in the car (distant sound of squealing tires)
DR. HARDICK: What am I supposed to treat you with when you're injured or sick?
MICHAEL: Injured?
JEFF: He means when we get shot and stuff.
DR. HARDICK: Yes, I'm assuming that's a risk that's fairly prevalent?
MICHAEL: Oh, constantly. We each get shot all the time.
DR. HARDICK: What? How often?
JEFF: Couple times a month, maybe? Sometimes more, sometimes less. It evens out.
MICHAEL: It's no big deal. We only ever get shot in the shoulder. It barely hurts anymore. When it happens, we look at is an opportunity to practice Our Three Gr's.

DR. HARDICK: 'Three Gr's'?
JEFF: Yeah, Grunt, Grumble and Grimace. It's a lot of fun, actually.
MICHAEL: There's nothing like delivering a threatening monologue while wounded and struggling to stand upright.
DR. HARDICK: And how do you treat these wounds??
MICHAEL: Oh, you know we just kind of patch each other up.
DR. HARDICK: 'Patch up'?
JEFF: Yeah, just kind of pat the bullet hole firmly a couple of times with your hand to stop the bleeding, put some tape on it and say something like 'Hang in there, buddy'.
MICHAEL: The bullets just sort of fall out later or we absorb them into our bloodstreams. Whatever.

DR. HARDICK: Dear lord! The fact that the three of you are alive is... unbelievable!
(JEFF and MICHAEL wink and exchange high fives) 

Shortly after that, I returned with Dr. Hardick's new nurse, Edith Softnwet

They immediately went shopping for bandages and creams and pills and stuff and we've all been fine ever since!

Dr. Hardick, Celebrity

Even funnier than our doctor's name was the way we went about picking him:

Randomly. Out of the phone book.

We moved into the Unbelieva-base and immediately found out we needed more than state-of-the-art anti-crime electronics and a hydraulic pop-up bar.

"Guys? I need to go to the doctor. It's way past time for my annual. Plus it's about the only place I can go in public around here and not have to wear pants," I told the guys one day.

"You have a doctor here in Stiletto Flats already?" Clark asked. "That was fast. I didn't realize you'd had the time to scare one up ..."

"I haven't. But I need to. I saw an office downtown the other day. I might as well just pop in there and see what it's like ..."

"Better idea!" shouted Jeff. "Let's do this the old fashioned way: Random phone book drawing!"

Clark and I looked at each other, then back at Jeff. "Brilliant!" we said in unison.

It just so happened there were a couple brand new phone books delivered and waiting for us when we first moved in. (Funny how that happens - the only things in a new place are usually a phone book and a roll of toilet paper, essentials for new owners as they first step into a new home or business.) We decided each of us would take the book, open a random page, plant a finger somewhere on it and circle whatever we came up with. Talk about your tried and true methodologies!

But when we'd written the final three down on a sheet of paper, it wasn't even a contest. Someone exclaimed "Oh, hell yeah!" and that was it. We had our winner: B.J. Hardick.

We reasoned anyone with a name like that had to be upstanding and professional, not to mention ballsy as all get out.

It was even decided all three of us would go in at the same time for physicals.* (Might as well get'em out of the way chop-chop.) Needless to say, we immediately hit it off with Dr. Hardick.

Fast forward to the present day.

Dr. Hardick has gone on to world-wide acclaim as the personal physician of The Unbelievables.

Some of the benefits of his association with us? Television appearances on all the big talk shows, international lectures, book deals with whirlwind signing tours, lucrative endorsements and more. The world is now his oyster.

Just one of the many advantages of being associated with us. You're welcome, Dr. B.J Hardick.

Oh ... and his chuckle-inducing name? It's never come into question since. (Though, some of that fame and fortune did go to his head briefly at one point: He had inklings of wanting to revert back to his given name, I Sawyer-Bitz. Fortunately, we talked him out of that decision which could have been a monumental professional disaster.)

*Side Note: That first meeting is where Jeff got a bit googly over his assisting nurse, Angie O'Gram ... something he "conveniently" failed to mention. But that's another story entirely.

It Matters Not

Wednesday Jeff said:

"Michael will be with you on Friday with more tales of danger, toilets (maybe) and other stuff (you never know with Michael, he can be kinda random sometimes)."

Just when and where have I gotten this reputation, I ask in all sincerity?

Look: I shy away from using two words day in and day out and those two words are "always" and "never." But I will state this: There is always a method to my madness. And that goes double for my randomness.

Yes, I'll admit: I can be random at times. But we've all heard the term "what goes around comes around" ... right? I just resemble that remark, is all.

So if you keep that in in the forefront of your mind, we'll get along just fine.

Now, back to business ...

Clark started the week off with "It's not that we'll refuse to offer our services ... it's just that we're going to involve ourselves with actual crimes and credible threats, where innocent people might actually be at risk." And he's right. It's not that we don't care, it's simply we don't care about what restroom someone uses.

It's like the time when we first moved into the Unbelieva-Base way back when. Understand, Nevada is hot and we were helping out the moving staff. It was the first time the locals noticed I wasn't wearing pants which - as you well know - has been a non-issue for years now. Back then? Not so much. But does anyone remember the uproar I caused that day? No. You know why?

Because it just doesn't matter.

(L to R: Clark, me, Jeff)

This photo shows us at Union Square on assignment years ago,

one of the first where I convinced the guys going pantsless

would up our popularity quotient. It was a great move and it worked.

(Side Note: It was Jeff's idea for he and Clark to wear shoe lifts.

"It will bolster our sex appeal" Jeff claimed. He was right on the money.

It took hours just to finish all the autograph and photo requests.)

Remember all those goats at the beginning of last year? No. You know why?

Because it just doesn't matter.

You have to admit: They were mighty cute ...

How about all the complaints and noise and broken glass clean-up from Clark tossing Henri Petit out uncountable windows over the years not to mention all of Petit's protestations? Right, you got it. It just doesn't matter.

Hey ... this happens sometimes. (Hokay ... lots of times. Get over it.)

That parade we held a couple years ago in honor of all the Unbelieva-Babes in our employ, both past and present? Sure, it caused a scene. Traffic up the wazoo. (And, to be fair, we DID work a deal with Stiletto Flats officials about all the trash generated on the streets because we're good guys after all.) But when all was said and done, no one even recalls some of the faux pas that came to pass. All anyone talks about is the fantastic cocktail party we threw post parade back at the Unbelieva-base.

There was a lot of trash to deal with ...

Because, in the grand scheme of things, it wasn't really an issue to begin with ...

... which brings me full circle right back to this toilet use deal:

Seriously, folks: It. Just. Doesn't. Matter.

Or, as The Clarkster said when he put it to bed Monday:

"... adults with a modicum of maturity and self-confidence are remarkably good at handling those circumstances."

And that's the truth, Ruth.

Around the clock Unbelievabaility

As Michael said, being an Unbelievable is a 24/7 thing. It's not a job we do, it's who and what we are. As a result, there's a lot of pressure to be 'on' all the time. Don't get me wrong, I'm not complaining. Why would I? How could I?

This happened at the grocery store.

Still, it's a little overwhelming sometimes. Walking into a room and seeing people move away from windows. Guys pulling up next to you at a stoplight and revving their engines. That kind of thing. And yes, even when we sleep. I'm sure you can imagine how often our foes think that sleepy time is a perfect time to ambush us with an assassin or two. Luckily, assassins don't like to share their duties and often bicker among themselves as to who gets to do the actual assassinating.

Usually how such disputes are settled

Even once we dispense with silliness like that and actually get down to the business of nighty-night, we have to deal with our own equally Unbelievable subconscious minds, where things get really weird. For example, here are three frequent nightmare scenarios that frequently keep me from having a restful night...

Oh no, which one is the secret entrance to The Unbelieva-base?!?

And why is there a single, unmatched sock in every dryer?

Shrunken Corvette!

Not at all what Prince was singing about.

Henri Grand!

"Who's a baby now?"

All I can say is thank goodness for safe, non-habit forming, specially-designed-for-us, pharmaceutical sleep aids.

A time for a personal accounting

"I spent HOW MUCH on hand-tooled leather mouse saddles?!?"

While you may heave heard that Kanye West revealed that he has accrued some $53 million in personal debt, you probably didn't hear that he came to us for help first. Unfortunately, we weren't able to offer the assistance he needs. A cursory glance at his spending habits revealed that what he needed was a financial adviser or an accountant or simply an adult to sternly shout "NO!" once in a while.

None of those things are what we do in terms of services rendered so we had to turn him away. But the experience did open our eyes to the possible financial perils that international jet setters like ourselves could face. Yes, the Unbelieva-base is somewhat opulent (in the lower levels, beneath the laundromat that you see from the street). From the toilets with hot and cold flush capability to the ice maker that fashions cubes in our own individual likenesses to the shag-carpeted basketball court, we don't lack for amenities. Nor should we! We need that stuff!

Still, we decided it's probably a good idea to take a look at some of our personal spending habits and see if there is any pork that can be trimmed with the solid gold pork-trimming sheers we got each other for Christmas two years ago.

Here are the areas where it would probably be good for me to cut back...


$700 a month, spare robot parts

In all these years, I haven't created a single fully-functioning robot (YET!). I'm not going to give up but, all things considered, I can't honestly justify the need for so many spare parts.


$19.95 a month, dues, Licorice of the Month Club

The fee is fairly nominal, even though they only send out two kinds of licorice. If you receive black in January, you can bet with confidence that it will be red in February. Care to guess what's coming in March? Exactly. No, the real problem is that they insist on running it like an actual club, where you're supposed to fly in (at your own expense) and attend meetings. And those always break down into arguments over which kind of licorice is better, red or black.


$145 a month, remote controlled Sleep Number® memory foam underpants 

Only remote controlled Sleep Number® memory foam underpants adjust on each side to your ideal level of firmness, comfort and support - your remote controlled Sleep Number® memory foam underpants setting. I've heard that some people are able to live active and healthy lives without this technology. I don't know how or why but I guess I should probably give it a try.


$850 a month, Air Defenestrators® (shoes designed for kicking people out of windows)

Special shoes designed for kicking people out of windows? Yes! Sure, you could wear regular shoes and kick someone out of a window. But why would you want to? You're simply not going to get the arc and distance and just general oomph you would get from shoes designed specifically for that purpose. Once, I wore a pair in Chicago and some punk tried to steal them. Guess what happened?

Notice what he doesn't have in his hands: my shoes.

But since I can't justify buying a new pair every single month aside from indulging my taste for fashion, this number needs to come down. 


Wow, looks like I need to make some serious adjustments to my lifestyle!
I wonder what Michael and Jeff learned about their own personal spending habits?

This Gang Is A Bunch Of Animals, Part 3

The Corvette's engine roared as it roared through the sleeping streets of Stilleto Flats like a hot red knife with four wheels and 427 cu in (7.0 l) Big-Block V8 with 390 hp (291 kW; 395 PS) cutting through a small Nevada town made of soft, creamy butter. I had to reach the Save-Or-Not and get those bananas! Jeff and Michael were depending on me. Bananas. Bananas! BANANAS!!
I slammed the car into park at the curb, jumped out without opening the door and raced into the store. On my way to the produce department, I saw something that froze me in my tracks.

"What... are those?"
"We're sampling delicious new HosenWurst® brand hot dogs tonight! Would you like to try one?"

I did. And it was delicious.

"What do you call these?"
"Well, they're just hot dogs with tooth picks in them, so you can pick them up without getting your fingers greasy."
"I've seen these before. At parties. They're extremely popular with the we-go-to-parties crowd."
"Well, yes. Usually people wrap them in bacon or there's some kind of a barbecue sauce..."
"Slow down! I want to write this recipe down!"
"The recipe? For barbecue sauce?"
"No! For just what you have here. Speak slowly and don't leave anything out!"

RECIPE FOR JUST HOT DOGS WITH TOOTH PICKS IN THEM

Ingredients: HosenWurst® brand hot dogs, tooth picks

1. Cook the HosenWurst® brand hot dogs
2. Cut the HosenWurst® brand hot dogs into bite sized-pieces
3. Stick a tooth pick into each piece
4. Serve

I picked up a package of HosenWurst® brand hot dogs and a whole box of tooth picks and headed back to the Unbelieva-base. I realized when I stepped inside and saw what a shambles the place was that I had completely forgotten about the bananas and the situation Jeff and Michael had been left in. They were sitting on the floor, back-to-back, tied to a pole. Jeff had been stripped naked and one of the apes had put a pair of trousers on Michael. Both were rendered extremely uncomfortable under these conditions. The savage beasts (Bames Jond, Mr. B, Bobo and Mr. Shifter, not my colleagues) had written the word "poop" in poop on one of the walls and had taken turns doing...things...to Charley Chimp. They also stole and damaged a whole bunch of our stuff. Jeff and Michael glared at me as I untied them and went into the kitchen to prepare the snacks. I guess they were pretty mad at me but that didn't stop them from enjoying the late-night gnosh.

Hey, chimp happens.

This Gang Is A Bunch Of Animals, Part 2

It became evident rather quickly

we weren't dealing with just a bunch of well-dressed monkeys ...

Ulf The Unbelievadog, canine operative, clued us in:

"Arf! Arf! Arffy woof woof! Hooooowwwwwwwwlllllllllll ... !!!" That's all Jeff needed to hear.

"Guys! Ulf The Unbelievadog just told me the greatest threat to the world as we know it is at hand and it's in the form of a bunch of dressed-up chimps with plans to take over the world!" Jeff panted. "It's a real live version of Planet Of The Apes! Let's thwart this thing!"

Clark and I looked at each other and then back again at Jeff. "Are you sure?" I asked.

"Yes! That's intel straight from Ulf!" Jeff confirmed.

"Ulf! Ulf, boy! C'mere!" Clark called. Ulf trotted over and sat down in front of Clark. "Talk to me, boy ..."

Ulf's ears pricked up and he stood: "Arf! Arf! Arffy woof woof! Hooooooooooooooooowwwwwwwwlllllllllllllllllllllllll ... !!!"

"Where'd you find this out?" Clark countered.

"Woof ... *gag* ... yelp, arf woof!" came the response.

"Huh," I puffed. "Real live chimps? That's a new one. It's a wonder no one's thought of this before. Are you sure they're not being led by anyone, Ulf? They're just chimps, all on their own, instigating and planning this overthrow?"

"Woof!" Ulf responded.

"We've got to get going!" Jeff blurted.

"Hold on ... we need a plan first," I offered. Jeff and Clark agreed.

"Clark: Run to the store and get a bushel or two of bananas. Jeff: Downstairs in the storeroom behind that old box of grenades is Charley Chimp. Grab him for me, will you? Meanwhile, I need to get out of these pants and give Ulf some water. He's parched!"

Charley Chimp: Best decoy ever

Clark headed out and we heard the 'Vette roar down the road seconds later. Jeff came back up from the storeroom with Charley.

"We'll use Charley as the usual diversionary tactic and put him in the middle of the floor at the Unbelieva-Base's laundry entrance. Surround Charley with the bananas Clark will bring back for us shortly and we have that animal horde right where we want them. Besides, I've been dying to bust out the Lobster Rage Fist!"

The Lobster Rage Fist:

Quite possibly The Unbelievables' most deadly weapon

15 minutes later after planting Charley as a diversion (and still waiting on Clark to return) we heard a commotion. We flipped on the Unbelieva-Monitors keeping an eye on the faux-laundry entrance to the Unbelieva-Base.

"Uh oh. We have a problem ..." Jeff half whispered through pursed lips.

There on the screen was Mr. B, Bames Jond, Mr. Shifter, Bobo and a couple dozen more chimp goons closing in on Charley in the middle of the entrance.

"No problem. I'll activate Charley. He'll keep those chimps busy wondering what he'll do next. But that will only last half a minute at best. Even with the best of our arsenal, it's us two against almost 30 of them. We're outnumbered 15 to 1! And with Kip The Mail Boy off today*, we need Clark desperately! What's holding him up ... ??!!?"(... to be continued Friday ...)

*In all honesty, Kip isn't much help in a tussle any time. No great loss there.

Sounds And Words

Independent of anything else, there are sounds.

Sounds make up the fabric of our days. The banging of door closing, the click of a lock, the running of water out a faucet.

More specifically, there is the distinct sound of language being spoken, shouted, whispered, conversed.

It's no different at The Unbelieva-Base ...

"Yes! Tomorrow is Whipped Potato Day!"

"I'm headed out to play volleyball ..."
"Without pants, right?"
"Is there any other way?"

"Has anyone seen that copy of Stupid, Ugly Baby Weekly?" I have an hankering to put out an update issue and I need a copy for reference ..."

"Anyone up for a visit to Mansfield next weekend?"

"That was some Elvis celebration we had. It might not be until the end of the week before we get everything cleaned up proper."*

Pretty bland conversation, I agree. But pop in to our headquarters at any random moment and the above could very well be mish-mashed with much stranger sounds and dialog. Stuff that may leave you scratching your head, among other things.

You see, crime fighting and Unbelieva-Babe hiring (and so much more) are a very vocal processes.

Clark and Jeff will regale you in the coming days.

Me? I have to skeeeeeedaddle to an opening appearance and introduction of The Van Veen Va Vooms who have graciously invited me to introduce them at their new gig in Branson, Missouri.

*This conversation happened just last night, the supposed 38th anniversary of the "demise" of The King.