Ne'er Do Well Mood Music

Yes ... I even have a scale model of Ironside's custom van.

Yes I do ... 

It's common knowledge The Unbelievables have a theme:


Little known, however, is the fact each of us -- Jeff, Clark and myself -- have preferences as to various themes we like to bust out when cases arise. 

For me the choices are simple. My "go to" theme is Ironside ...


Second choice? The Streets Of San Francisco ...

... and, of course, you simply can't go wrong with the classic old school, instantly recognizable and iconic Mission: Impossible ...



Why? What's the point of the themes? Well, as with any good music at time of need, these themes serve as inspiration and all around "Let's do it!"-ness. They pump you up. Not that The Unbelivables need pumping up you understand but let's be honest: We can all use a good dose of adrenaline every now and again. It gets the juices flowing ... you know?

Clark and Jeff will reveal some of their pre-case inspirations (and, I'm certain, other vagaries) as the week progresses.

Oh ... and as a bonus? Personally, when a criminal is apprehended, I rather like performing a little karaoke rendition of Dolly Parton's "It Ain't Fair And It Ain't Right" with the thug in front of me tied up in a chair, captivated and receptive to my whims. Drives'em nuts.

Yeah, I know: It ain't right, it ain't fair. But it's oh, so much fun.

 

Unibrowbeaten

"Yo, my name is Boney 'Gonojow' McBlee. Can I help youse?"

McGee seemed upbeat and not intent on doing us harm but it was hard to tell...

"Blimey! Youse 'ave nothin' ter worry about. Nuff said, yeah?"

I said, "That's fine, I guess. But still, what's with locking us in?"

"Lawd above! Yous're not really locked in. We are closed though, an' wan' ter keep uvver people out. But youse guys can leave whenever youse want., innit."

We turned to leave and Tony said:

"Apples and pairs, y'know? Trouble and strife. Fuggedabout it."

Jeff said, "Do... you want us to go upstairs with your wife and not remember it? I'm not sure what you're trying to say."

"Ayyy! Shigglety bigglety. Bing bang bong and a cheesesteak nickel pickel. YouknowI'msayin'?"

Michael looked at Neal Anderthal for clarification and he just shrugged and raised his one, forehead-spanning eyebrow. "All day with this stuff", Smiley Smith said. "We have no idea what we're supposed to do."
At that point, McGee slammed his fist angrily on the desk, pulled out a knife and yelled:

"Well, isn't this just a fine kittenly kettle of mibble-mobble, you shoobies!"

Then he started crying...or maybe it was laughing. It really was impossible to tell. Tor 'The Beast' Chatsworth started laughing in support and then stopped almost immediately when he realized he might be making a fatal error. McGee glared at him hatefully and then embraced him in an uncomfortably affectionate hug.

"Right", Michael said. "We're leaving."

"Burlap sack! Twist and twerk!"

"Is he trying to tell us to hurry back and do some work? I don't understand!  I mean, it's kinda like cockney rhyming slang but...", Jeff said. Lumpy 'Hair Eye Am' Gonzalez said, "Just go. Don't worry about it. Here, take a couple pairs of these night vision heat scope stealth goggles, complimentary. I think the boss said something about wanting you guys to try them out and maybe write a nice review on our web site, although it's impossible to tell."

"Exactly pterodactyly! Badda boom badda bing!"

"Come back next week and check out our selection of of two-way wristwatch laser exploders... if we're still in business", said Jimmy. "Thank you for attempting to shop at Spies Like Us."

We all went home with severe headaches.

Surprising News From Tony ...

The moment Clark, Jeff and I stepped into Spies Like Us we knew something was awry. And it wasn't just the mustachioed gents we saw browsing about the store.


After Tony "Monobrow" McGee popped out, he approached and simply stared at each of us, going from one Unbelievable to the next. No greeting, no evil laugh, nothing. But he did point toward the ceiling at the front of the store behind us.

Cautiously and in unison, all three of us turned to see what he was pointing at. We were greeted with huge posters plastered high on the walls:

Notice anything suspicious? Yep: Monobrows galore. We didn't expect anything less from McGee.

Turning back to face him, we noticed his henchmen had joined him. Among them were Teddy "Twitch" Monty ...

Lumpy "Hair Eye Am" Gonzalez ...

Smiley Smith ...

Neal Anderthal ...

Tor "The Beast" Chatsworth ...

... and the most underhanded looking character of all, Jimmy ...

We were in a pickle. They weren't there for a social call and we didn't see anything resembling an afternoon tea, so we concluded no good could come from any of them.

McGee just continued staring at us, not saying a word. 

I broke the ice. "What's this about, McGee? Why, all of a sudden, are the doors locked and why have all your thugs come out from beneath their rocks?" I asked.

McGee broke out in a huge smile ... which was difficult to discern beneath that huge hairlip of his.

"Guys! Nuttin' doin'! We're jus' closed for the day, s'all! You got nuttin' to worry about - I've gone legit ... !!!"

We were stunned ...

Hirsute's You, Sir

Hi folks! It's Monday, and I bet you're all a-wonderin' where the heck we were last week, eh? Well, we'll tell you. The picture we posted was a clue to what we were experiencing.

The other week we noticed that our disguise kit was looking a bit sorry for itself. We were low on supplies. Scarcely any greasepaint or eyeliner, only 2 prosthetic noses, one wig (afro), and zero, that's right, ZERO fake mustaches.

We had to replenish our kit, so we went to the local Party City.

Conveniently, the shop was located adjacent to the Sally Beauty Supply.

"Woohoo!" cried Clark. "One stop shoppin'!"

"No kidding," said Michael, gesturing to another store just yards from where we were standing. "I don't recall seeing that store before."

Once in the store, we were approached by a store associate who was proffering flyers for an upcoming seminar on new disguise techniques. We initially pooh-poohed the idea.

"Pshaw! As if you have anything to teach us!" crowed Clark.

I nudged him and reminded him that we were supposed to be acting like regular folks and not professional crimefighters.

"On the other hand, " he quickly corrected himself, "we're not busy on Monday, so we might pop along."

And that is precisely what we did. Not because we thought there was anything we could learn from this seminar, but because it seemed odd that a spy supply shop would pop up next to a Party City and a Sally beauty Supply, especially when the Army, Navy and Police Surplus store was on the next block.

On entering, we noticed the store was strangely empty, save for a few chaps sporting unusual moustaches. 

As soon as the doors closed behind us, we heard the telltale click of automatic locks securing the doors, barring our exit. Then, out of nowhere, appeared a man we'd encountered before on numerous occasions. A petty crook, lightbulb salesman and moustache supplier, and now, it seemed, someone hell-bent on kidnapping The Unbelievables.

Yes. Tony "Monobrow" McGee, the world's only New Jersey Cockney. 

What happened to us then would take us all week to deal with and recover from.

Michael will pick up the story on Wednesday. In the meantime, I'm going for a little lie down with my friend Captain Morgan.

... wait ... Where Are The Unbelievables?

Spazzin' Out

So we three Unbelievables figured we were up to the challenge of sorting out the three hellions from the VW commercial. Phil was assigned to Michael, Clark got Chunk and me, I got lumbered with Spazz.

Spazz seems to be missing a chromosome or perhaps his mother dropped him on his head when only a baby. Either way, there's sump'n about this peculiar character that's a tad NQR. (Not Quite Right.)

Whatever his problem, it causes him to leave a trail of destruction wherever he goes. Sometimes he's completely unaware of the fact that he is leaving broken toys and burning toasters in his wake. Other times he laps it up, like in the commercial pictured above.

I went to see the kid, and the first thing I noticed was a large puddle of maple syrup on the floor. Spazz was calmly sitting at the table, eating pancakes.

"What happened here?" quoth I.

"I dunno," the little one-man wrecking crew replied, flobbing chunks of pancake as he spoke. "it just sorta happened."

"So what's with the burned-out cereal box then?" I asked, gesturing towards the pile of black ash still smoldering at the other end of the table.

"Oh, well, you know how parents always tell you not to play with matches? I just wanted to find out why. Trouble is, my glasses mess with my depth perception."

It occurred to me that there was very little anyone could do for Spazz, so what I did was to give the little twit a special Unbelieva-Safety-Backpack.

Contained within this pack is everything that he could possibly need. First Aid Kit, baby wipes, defibrillator, whistle, screwdriver, penknife, fire extinguisher, Tide stain remover, thing for getting stones out of horses' hooves, you name it, it's in there. There's also a big sign on the outside to warn passers-by of the dangers of being near Spazz, and also to use the contents of his pack should a calamity occur (and you know it will). 

Bottom line, Spazz is just a walking disaster area, sometimes accidental, sometimes deliberate, and the best anyone can do around him is to take appropriate action when the inevitable occurs. So it makes sense to supply the kid with useful items in a handy hi-vis pack that anyone can use.

It's either that, or lock the kid in the attic and pretend he ran away to join the circus. Say, the circus... I wonder if they'd want him...? Let's Google it...

Breaking down the Chunk

Once we all received our assignments, Jeff and Michael turned to me and in unison said, "No kicking Chunk out of a window!" Why not, I asked. "Remember, 'No lasting physical harm' was the only request Chunk's father made." Since when has anyone getting kicked out of a window suffered 'lasting physical harm'? I've kicked Henri Petit out of dozens of windows, and all he does is grunts, sighs and gets right back to whatever horrible activity he was engaged in. "Regardless", they said. "Don't do it."

Whatever.

I went to meet with Chunk, with no real idea of what I was going to say to this kid to get him back on track. I don't know what makes kids tick! I found him in his cabin, ripping the tags off of everyone's mattresses.

"Hey Chunk. Come here. I want to talk to you."
"Okay."
"Do you know why you're here?"
"Kinda. My parents want you to teach me not to be a menace."
"Yes, that's right."
"But here's the thing; I don't know about the other two, but I did all that stuff so I would get sent here!"
"Oh. Really?"
"Yeah, I even rigged the hat draw so that you would pick my name!"
"Why would you do that?"
"Because I want you to teach me how to kick people out of windows."
"Oh. Oh my. That's... that's great."
"Dude. Are you crying?"
"No! But come with me."
"Where are we going?"
"Over to Henri Petit's house. You're going to be just fine, Chunk."