The Old Mailbag Once Again

Letters, we get letters ...

Hey, Unbelievables:

Will you be performing any "tricks" for any trick or treaters that come your way All Hallow's Eve?

Jimbo

Yes. Of course. That's what Halloween is all about, not just handing out candy and goodies to all the little demons and princess that come knocking at our door.

Treats ...

... and possible "tricks" ...

Dear Unbelievables: 

What's the number one thing you guys will be handing out this Halloween? 

Inquiring minds and all that

Well, it just so happens we have a ton of Girl Scout cookies so ...

Yeah ... we have "a few" left ...

You Unbelievables ...

You're downright kooky, you know it? You really expect us to believe guys like you have nothing better to do than sit around on Halloween night and answer the door and hand out stuff to kids? I thought you three were suave men about town? Kinda sounds like catering to common trick or treaters is something way, way beneath you.

Signed, "Unbelievable" In His Own Way

Hey, Unbelievable-Wannabee, here's a news flash for you: Yes, we're suave men about town. But you forgot snappy dressers, crime-fighting experts and, most importantly, upstanding citizens. It falls on us to set good examples in the community ... and what better way to do that by contributing to the spirit of Halloween? What are you, a communist?!?

Dear Guys:

Creepy movies are "a thing" this time of year. But I'm afraid of them. They give me nightmares and keep me up at night. But it's all my friends want to do as the end of the month draws nearer. Any suggestions?

Thanks! Signed "Fearful"

Yeah ... grow a pair. Or we'll send the Boogie Man your way. Seriously.

"Fearful" will recognize this guy when he sees him.

Jeff and Clark have more responses to (sometimes questionable) queries from the general public that might be related to Day Of The Dead Celebrations, Thanksgiving or what have you. I don't open their mail so I wouldn't know. Just stay tuned ...

The Girl Scout Cookie Caper, Part Three and Conclusion

"What's with these start-up villains just popping up and announcing their presence via mail? Maybe we should start staking out post offices", I offered through a mouthful of cookie carnage.
Jeff and Michael shrugged their shoulders.
"Well, this guy is off on the wrong foot if he assumes that just because he sent us all these cookies that we're going to sit around eat them all", I said as I opened yet another sleeve of Thin Mints.
"Regardless", Michael replied. "We should start by figuring out who this 'Turgider' is."
I shot up in my seat and exclaimed, "Wait a minute! Turgider? Traditional spelling?"
Jeff said, "Presumably, yes."
"You guys, Turgider backward is Red Igurt!"
Jeff and Michael looked at each other then responded in unison, "Red Igurt? That doesn't make any sense."
"Exactly. Nothing about this case makes any sense", I said and sat down, self-satisfied.
Jeff said, "Okay. Great. Thanks for the contribution" with an unnecessarily aggressive eye-roll.

We went about working on the case which involved high-speed car chases, fist fights, explosions etc., none of which we have time to talk about due to the space wasted on the verbal exchange above.

Eventually, we found out Baron J. Turgider was indeed trying to put the Girl Scouts out of business. Why? To benefit his baked goods-makin' baby mama, none other than...

LITTLE DEBBIE!

We let both of them off with a warning (seemed fair since they did give* us all those cookies) to stop trying to destroy cherished institutions dedicated to developing young people and never involve us in any Jerry Springer-esque family matters. We would go on to cross paths with Little Debbie again later in spite of this.

* Jeff pointed out that we actually had to pay for all those cookies.

The Girl Scout Cookie Caper, Part Two

When I looked at the bill of lading I almost lost control of my bowels. 56 pallets, each containing 24 cases, each containing 18 boxes, each containing 24 cookies (approx), that makes... what? Almost 600,000 cookies, by my reckoning. We wouldn't need that many biccies if we were stockpiling a nuclear shelter. Who in their right mind would think we would even require the over a million cookies we now had? (Yes, I signed for them. I think the driver tricked me into it.)

"If you ask me," said Clark, showers of Thin Mints crumbs exiting his mouth as he spoke, "I think somebody wants us to have them for some ulterior purpose."

"Like what?" retorted Michael through a beard full of Samoa chunks.

"Like for example, say if you're in the cookie business and you don't want the competition from the Girl Scouts every year, and you somehow devise a plan to send ALL the Girl Scout cookies in America to one individual!"

"...or individual organisation!" I yelled. "These cookies weren't ordered  by us, but they showed up at our gaff. The Girl Scouts didn't know it wasn't us who ordered them, and since we took them anyway, they're probably none the wiser!"

"But who is so desperate to sell their own baked treats that they would try to remove all of a competitor's cookies from the marketplace? Who would concoct so devious a plan?" inquired Michael.

Just then, the mail plopped onto the mat (remember, this was back in the day, and we hadn't got ourselves a mailboy just yet). Clark picked up the pile and there, on top, was this note:

Well, now. If things up until this point had been a bit weird, then this note had made sure things were downright freaky. Who was this Turgider fellow? And if he made cookies, how come we'd never heard of him?


More of this story on Friday.

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 ...