Every once in a while we like to open up the fan-mail bag here on the UnbelievaBlog and answer a question or two from our legions of admirers. So here goes with one from Gerhardt Schnäbel from Blue Mound, IL:
"Hey there Unbelievables,
I've been reading your blog for a long time now and I'm a huge fan, but one thing kinda bugs me. I can't work out what year it's supposed to be or how old you are. You seem to solve crimes wearing clothes from different eras, one minute you're dressed in '70s kitsch, then stuff from the '50s and '60s, all your gadgets seem vintage, then there's some '80s references thrown in, and next thing you are solving crimes in the present day. What gives? I mean, are you guys time travellers or timelords or what?
Your friend, Gerhardt"
Wow, great question, Gerhardt. You know, I'd really love to tell you the whole story but it would take ages and I really don't have the time, if you know what I'm saying. So to make up for it, here's a cool picture of the Unbelievajalopy's new paint job!
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| Cool, no? |
More mailbag questions on Wednesday!
Okay, let's just get one thing straight before we launch into this: it was Clark that pooped in Michael's coffee, not me. And it was not real poop. It was a 'cat poop' cookie. Y'know, one of those delicious no-bake cookies that look like a cat turd. Don't believe me? Here you go, have a recipe: Cat Poop Cookies
Now, before this turns into a cookery show, let's get the show on the road.
I got a call on the Unbelievaphone the other day...
"Hello, Unbelievables! You tip us off, our hats we will doff!"
"Jeff, will you please stop doing those stupid ad-rhyme-greeting things?"
"Oh, hi Michael. What up, dawg, fo rizzle ma nizzle?"
"And quit with the ghetto speak. That is also not very cool. What I wanted to talk about was Clark and his stupid training calls. To speak in the lingua franca of your birth country, they are getting right on my wick."
"Yes, me too, matey. And top marks for getting the phrase right."
"So what do we do about it? He called me earlier, pretending to be you and claiming that you pooped in my coffee, and urging ME to go poop in your tea."
"Well, that is ridiculous. I don't even drink tea. I'm a coffee guy, like you. Maybe we should call him up on that carphone he's so ruddy proud of."
"Now, that's an idea..."
So, a little bit later...
"RINGGG!!!"
"Heyy, Clark here, comin' at ya live from Da Unbelievajalopy!"
"(sigh) not you as well... Clark, we need you back here at the base pronto! Code red, repeat, code red!"
"I'm on the case! Returning to base asap!" (Sound of car tires squealing)
Boy, did we laugh. See, we knew what was waiting for Clark when he got back.
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| Payback. |
