Possible Monkey Business Afoot ...

I'm not certain but I'd be willing to bet my face was screwed up in a bout of confusion at the information Clark offered Jeff and I after his little venture over to Petit's place.

"Well ... that's just weird. He didn't do anything? Nothing? Just sat there?"

In retrospect, Clark wasn't the best person to surveil Henri Petit. The two have a huge backlog of ... well, let's say "history" and just leave it at that. 

"Not a single thing at all?" Jeff asked. "Not a peep when you called him a malformed chimp?" Clark shook his head.

"Wait. Look at this picture again and tell me if you see anything strange" I asked the guys.

"He's wearing an ape mask?" Jeff asked.

"It makes him look handsomer than ever before? " Clark offered.

"That the stoop is the only place he can sit where his feet reach the ground?" Jeff continued, chuckling.

"No, no, no. What's missing from this image?"

"Height?" Clark mused.

"Character?" Jeff jested.

"Poise? Him holding a homemade bomb? Lunch dribbles down the front of his shirt?"

"NO! Look ... there's no cigarette! He's not holding one, he's not smoking one, there's no evidence of cigarettes anywhere. There aren't any butts on the ground, zippo. I'm not so sure this is a picture of Henri Petit. You did say he didn't acknowledge you in the least, right Clark?"

Clark nodded. "So? He doesn't like me anyway. Might have something to do with all the beatings I've given him over the years ..."

Jeff chimed in. "If you're right, Michael, and that's not Petit, we need to get over there and find out for sure ..."

"Oh, HELL no ..." Clark interjected.

I looked at Clark. "Jeff's right. Pardon the pun but there might be monkey business afoot. You know you'd miss him if anything happened to the little twerp, Clark ..."

Just then, we heard a chime coming from one of the computers in the office down the hall. An e-mail came through. We pulled it up:

There were no "instructions below."

We all hopped into Clark's 'Vette and drove over to Petit's place ...

The Conductor Conducts Once More ...

The Conductor ...

... after picking himself up and dusting himself off after his recent ass kicking ...

"But anyway, we beat the living pulp out of The Conductor (note to would-be villains: spring for some hired muscle henchmen and at least make it a challenge), rescued Rod, who came back to Stileto Flats with us where he performed a free concert that still somehow raised a million dollars for charity." 

So said Clark in last Friday's post.

But that wasn't the end of it.

As it turned out, The Conductor was listening - beaten, battered and bloody such that he was. But he was coherent enough to take Clark up on his "note to would-be villains." 

We found out about this little turn of events in a note he sent us:

Jeff: "Uh ... guys? We might have a problem ..."

Michael: "Are we out of Grape Nuts again?"

Clark: "I paid the electric bill, so don't blame me!"

Jeff: "No ... it's The Conductor again. He left us a note. He hired muscle. And some pretty formidable (albeit elderly) muscle at that. He procured none other than Ryūzō and The Seven Henchmen ..."

Ryūzō and some of his henchmen

  
"... and they absconded with Rod Stewart as soon as he landed. And The Conductor wants a ransom for his return this time. Plus some vintage odds and ends for his model train collection. AND he wants his demands met in 48 hours."

Clark: Son of a ... that's the first time one of our foes has EVER taken our advice!"

Me: "Well ... it's a fine time for this to crop up. I had plans to get my Christmas shopping done this weekend. Now it looks like we need to save Rod's ass once again ..."

Clark: "... as well as the rest of him."

Jeff:  "So ... anyone know anything about these thugs The Conductor hired?"

We'd find out soon enough ...

Just a Few Notes

From time to time here at Unbelieva-base, the mail we get is not of the question-and-answer variety, rather it is in the form of the dreaded ransom note. There are a few in today's mailbag, so let's peruse them, shall we? The guys are all here today, so we can give replies 'in real time', so to speak. Here we go...

Michael: That's not our mower.

Jeff: No, it sure isn't.

Clark: HP Sauce? HP? It's the work of that ugly horrid baby Henri Petit. What kind of idiots does he take us for?

Michael: Stupid ugly baby.

Jeff: That's NOT our car.

Clark: No sirree. 

Michael: What kind of threat is that? There is no threat. Just 'we want money for this car'. There's supposed to be an "OR ELSE..." isn't there?

NB. This certainly isn't our car. We have had several, and the way you can tell it's OUR car is obvious. Examples...

Yes.

Yes, yes, yes.

Yes again.

No. No sexy ladies, and impossible to see out.

Michael: Well, that's just rude.

Clark: Yeah. As if we'd own a Trabant Limo! Hahahaha! Lime green, even! Hahaha!

Jeff: Yeah... that's just, um, ridiculous.

Michael: See you guys later!

Clark & Jeff: Whatever.

Clark: What are you doing?

Jeff: Um, nothing, just checking to see if my phone is fully charged and switched on.

 Clark: I knew he'd figure that out eventually. Stupid baby.