Surreal continuing story: walking through doors and passageways

Miscellaneous and Personal Stuff I Must Share
821

“You’ve done this sort of thing before haven’t you?” Stanhouse asks.

“Yes,” Lorna answers, “I was the lead singer for a band when I lived in Scotland. I quit when I decided to devote all my time to pursuing my education.”

“Well, you don’t seem to have lost any steps since then,” he comments. “You come across as very professional and self-assured. You also have an impressive presence on the stage that’s both strong and sexy.”

“Oh, thank you,” she replies with a blush, “but I’m just being who I am.”

“I hope I didn’t sound like a lech with that last compliment,” Stanhouse quickly says.

“Oh no,” Lorna giggles.

Out of curiousity, I look at Jock to check on this reaction to his fiance` being called sexy by a man old enough to be her father. He doesn’t seem too perturbed but he does have a bit of a poker face.

“Anyway, if I seem a bit discombobulated, it’s because I have a weakness for redheads,” Stanhouse continues. “By the way, you said you used to be in a band. You didn’t make any music videos did you?”

“No, we mainly played pubs, clubs, and taverns in Scotland and northern England,” she explains. “We never got big enough to make videos.”

“That’s odd, because you look like the Scottish lead singer of a band I watched–or rather watched my nephew watch–on MTV a few years ago,” he says. “Of course, I’ve only seen MTV several times in my life. I’m not exactly in their demographic.”

“What was the name of the band?” Lorna asks as she twirls a strand of her red hair around her index finger.

“I’m drawing a blank,” he answers. "If only I could remember. It think the girl’s name was–

“Excuse me, Mr. Stanhouse,” Jock suddenly interrupts, "I have…

822

“You’ve done this sort of thing before haven’t you?” Stanhouse asks.

“Yes,” Lorna answers, “I was the lead singer for a band when I lived in Scotland. I quit when I decided to devote all my time to pursuing my education.”

“Well, you don’t seem to have lost any steps since then,” he comments. “You come across as very professional and self-assured. You also have an impressive presence on the stage that’s both strong and sexy.”

“Oh, thank you,” she replies with a blush, “but I’m just being who I am.”

“I hope I didn’t sound like a lech with that last compliment,” Stanhouse quickly says.

“Oh no,” Lorna giggles.

Out of curiousity, I look at Jock to check on this reaction to his fiance` being called sexy by a man old enough to be her father. He doesn’t seem too perturbed but he does have a bit of a poker face.

“Anyway, if I seem a bit discombobulated, it’s because I have a weakness for redheads,” Stanhouse continues. “By the way, you said you used to be in a band. You didn’t make any music videos did you?”

“No, we mainly played pubs, clubs, and taverns in Scotland and northern England,” she explains. “We never got big enough to make videos.”

“That’s odd, because you look like the Scottish lead singer of a band I watched–or rather watched my nephew watch–on MTV a few years ago,” he says. “Of course, I’ve only seen MTV several times in my life. I’m not exactly in their demographic.”

“What was the name of the band?” Lorna asks as she twirls a strand of her red hair around her index finger.

“I’m drawing a blank,” he answers. "If only I could remember. It think the girl’s name was–

“Excuse me, Mr. Stanhouse,” Jock suddenly interrupts, "I have…

823

“…a question. Is it your wont to ask such detailed questions of people you don’t know personally?”
Jock doesn’t act jealous or angry, just irritated.

“Your name, sir?” Stanhouse asks.
“I am Jock Dumfries, or, if you prefer, Officer John M. Dumfries of the local police department. Ms. McManus here is my fiancée.”

“Some guys have all the luck,” Stanhouse comments.
Jock and Lorna smile and blush at this compliment.

“Mr. Dumfries,” Stanhouse says, “I should point out that a director must analyze the persona and ‘vibes,’ if you will, of a performer. In Ms. McManus’ case, it’s the image she puts across to her audience with her songs.”
Alice steps forward. “Jock, I think the singer Lorna resembles is the lead singer of the group ‘Garbage.’”

“I don’t know that singer’s name offhand,” I say, holding Alice close. “I’m not a rock fan; I had decided that Lorna bore a resemblance to Julie London.”
“Who’s Julie London?” asks the nine-year-old Georgie Blonda, with Katrina standing close.

“She was a ‘torch singer’ many years ago, George,” I say. “She sang things like “A Foggy Day in London Town’ and ‘Snuggled on My Shoulder.’ She was a real beauty. [Lorna blushes at the indirect compliment.] She was married to Jack Webb of Dragnet; she later married bandleader Bobby Troup. She and Troup played the parts of Nurse Dixie McCall and Dr. Joe Early on Webb’s TV series Emergency!”

Now Agent Hightower, Mr. Sharp, Mr. Galloway, Bob Long, and Hermione step towards us. Apparently the uniformed agent has reprimanded Guildford and Cruz, who, although they have Animal Control Agency badges and ID cards (without which, of course, Artie Brown would not have admitted them), acted improperly in that they did not contact the Sharps or the Galloways before ordering us to leave the stage area—in order to look for hamsters.

“We haven’t the foggiest why they would search the place for hamsters,” Alice comments.
Then Alice and I get a telepathic message.

Would you like to have them shadowed for a while, in case they had an ulterior motive? It’s the telepathic voice of Al the Alien.
Go right ahead, Alice and I think to Al, in unison.

Agent Hightower, Cruz, and Guildford leave. Mary Blonda sees them as they exit the theater. She gets a good look at the rat in the trap; of course, she’s a biologist. Guildford and Cruz see Mary, who is braless here, and they get erections. Mary notices this; she rejoins our group near the stage and snickers merrily. :smiley:
We have some unfinished business. There is yet one group which Mr. Stanhouse has yet to see and review: Kwisp & Kwake. Tomasso Luglio and Katrina Oranjeboom go onstage, after embraces with their significant others. :slight_smile:

First, they pick up baseball caps and bats and do Abbott & Costello’s routine “Who’s on First?” all the way through.
Then, using Jeanette’s guitar and Jerry’s drumset, they perform Led Zeppelin’s song “Stairway to Heaven.”

After that, Jane Bradley swivels and bounces up to the piano; she gives the introduction as Kwisp & Kwake perform “Anything You Can Do” from Annie Get Your Gun.
After they finish that, Stan Brown and Joe Bradley wheel the extra piano onto the stage, and Tomasso and Katrina perform Liszt’s “Hungarian Rhapsody No. 5.”

Last of all, the odd couple does the “Viaduct” routine of Chico and Groucho from The Cocoanuts. We all applaud.
Apparently they want the director to evaluate all the things they’ve just performed, and suggest one for them to add to the program.

We personally introduce Tomasso and Katrina to the director.
Before the director can give his review, however, we have more visitors. A man in a plain suit, with a badge, approaches. He bears a close resemblance to the director George Stanhouse. With him is the hairdresser from next door, Kerrie Knight; a rather plain woman, handcuffed behind her back; Professor Fields; and a uniformed policeman I don’t recognize.

“This is my brother Alvin Stanhouse, an agent of the Drug Enforcement Administration,” George Stanhouse says.
Alvin, a cordial and outgoing man, smiles and says, “Don’t let me interrupt you, George. I heard the very last of this duo’s performance. Go ahead with your review.”

“Before he does, Agent Stanhouse,” says Professor Fields, “I should explain something. The DEA got a hot tip about Shannon Wayble—the woman who is handcuffed—dealing in drugs. They got a warrant to search her home. We found out she was employed as a ‘temp’ by Kerrie’s business, and Ms. Knight allowed us to search Shannon’s locker next door. When we searched it we found a disorganized pile of papers mentioning the Morpheus. They may be of interest to two of our party here.” Fields motions to Alice and me; we approach and he hands us the papers, now in a neat stack. We scan the top page. Parker and Breastly will be delighted to see this! Alice thinks to me; I embrace her.

The uniformed cop leads Ms. Wayble away. Alvin sits down and says, “Go on with your review, George.”
The director appraises Kwisp & Kwake:

824

“I liked the musical numbers better than the comedy routines,” Stanhouse begins. “It’s not that there’s anything wrong with your delivery, it’s just that ‘Who’s on First’ and ‘Viaduct’ have been done to death. I would suggest doing a sketch that not many people are familiar with or maybe reworking the word play of the old routines with different points of reference. Like, for example, the variation of ‘Who’s on First’ that was done by The Credibility Gap in the 70’s with the names of the rock bands The Who, The Guess Who, and Yes.”

“How about the musical numbers?” asks Katrina. “Was there anything wrong with them?”

“Oh no,” the director replies. “They were excellent.”

At that point, I get a telepathic message from Al.

There’s a connection between Cruz, Guilford, and Shannon Wayble.

What is it? I mentally reply.

*Cruz and Guilford were…

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…in fact, apprentice agents for Threshold.
I thought as much, I reply. * What are they doing now?

Hightower has recommended to his superiors that Cruz and Guildford be suspended without pay for two weeks. And both of them are mentioned in documents that the DEA found in Ms. Wayble’s home, as well as in the papers you have there, which Fields has already read. It’s likely those two guys will be arrested themselves as accessories—by the DEA.

What about that rat they had in the trap? * Alice asks.
They may have planted it. But don’t worry. We watched them in the stage area and in the wings. All they did was go through the motions of searching for hamsters.

I think to ask Al, Have there ever been hamsters in the Morpheus?
I don’t know offhand, replies Al. Red Nicholas likely knows. I’ll ask him and have him or Leo get the answer to you. So long for now.

I mutter to Alice, “I guess those guys will get their just desserts.”
“I hope they do, too,” she says. “We’ve had too many weirdoes popping up around here.”

“What about that Cockney Davies—”
Now Agent Alvin Stanhouse approaches us.

“Ms. Terwilliger, Mr. ______,” he says, “In the course of our investigation, we identified three people named in documents we located at Ms. Wayble’s home. They are Porfirio Cruz, Paul Guildford, and Quincy Davies. Have they been here?”
“Cruz and Guildford came here as Animal Control employees,” says Alice. “They shooed us out of the stage area, ostensibly to hunt hamsters.”

Agent Stanhouse muses on this. “That’s their M. O.—they use that as a pretext. Would you people mind if my crew checks the stage area and the wings for their fingerprints?”
“Not at all,” says Eloise. “We need a break anyway.”

Agent Stanhouse calls his fingerprint crew in. We all go into the conference room, except for Jack Sharp and Mary Blonda; she wanted to give Agent Alvin a statement about that rat.
Now I excuse myself and return to the stage area, just before the crew begins.

“Mr. Stanhouse,” I say, “Quincy Davies was in here too, a few weeks ago. I found him in a side room; we didn’t know how he got in. We had him arrested for breaking and entering. He’d also been in the hairdressers’ next door, with two women named DeMoss and Chester.”
The DEA agent takes some notes.

“You’ll be glad to know Davies is still in custody,” he says. “He was in this country illegally, and is awaiting deportation—but he faces charges here too—lots of them. He is a professional cat burglar, for one thing.”
Now Agent Stanhouse interviews Mary Blonda.

I return to the conference room.
We’re patrolling the area where Alvin and his crew do their thing, says Al the Alien. I acknowledge.

I return to Alice. She sits on my lap as we have some grapes and bottled water.
George Galloway approaches.

“Is anyone watching the stage area while the DEA people are there?” he asks.
“Yes,” I say. “Al the Alien said they’re patrolling the area.”

“Good,” says Galloway. He then stands in the middle of the room and announces, “Everybody want to go to the Turkish bath now?”
We all do. We leave the conference room en masse, and head for Galloway’s “domain.” We change into robes in the large anteroom, and gather towels in the sauna itself. Betty Galloway, in her pink terrycloth robe, points out to me that the kids under 18 are not present—she and George sent them into the video-game area.

I notice that Jeanette Strong wears neither robe nor towel, and sits with her three partners, Phil, Jerry, and Johnny, all of whom cover their laps with towels. Alice and I do likewise with our towels. Jeanette and her men engage in a lively conversation, with no indication that they are lusting after the naked Amazon they’re with.

Alice and I just sit together, arms around each other’s waists. Of course, her bosom is bare, same as Jeanette’s.
Now we both get a telepathic message from Red Nicholas, concerning my earlier contact with Al the Alien.

826

I’ve never seen any hamsters in all the time I’ve been in the Morpheus. Of course you have to keep in mind that, according to what Leo tells me, hamsters weren’t brought to America until the 1930’s and that’s long after I was first imprisoned in the sub-basement. In fact, Leo has an interesting story about a hamster act that appeared at the Morpheus then.

Telepathically, I inquire, Is it connected to the alleged hamster infestation Guilford and Cruz were talking about?

Might be. I suggest you ask him before he leaves for Wilmette, Illinois to check out a sighting of Crystal Pepsi in a Jewel Food Store. You can catch him in the lounge if you hurry.

“Do you want to go talk to Leo now?” I ask Alice.

“We have no choice,” she answers as she starts to get up. “I just hope the story is useful.”

As a round of martinis is being served by the waiter, we excuse ourselves from the Turkish bath and go out to anteroom and quickly dress. We then rush down to the lounge where we find Leo getting ready to leave.

“Oh, I’m glad to see you before you leave,” I tell him. “I was wondering if you could tell us about that hamster act that appeared at the Morpheus in the 30’s. Red told us to ask you about that.”

“I can,” the ghost replies. "I’ve got a little time left before I have to leave. There was this act called ‘Cyril Greevely and His Stupendous Syrian Hamster.’ Basically, this fellow would have his hamster perform stunts like walking across a little tightrope, riding a tiny bicycle, playing a miniature piano, and–to show how smart the little rodent was–do some card tricks. Anyway, at one performance…

827

“Cyril had magnanimously allowed the hamster, named Achmed, to perform before other hamsters. A young veterinarian named Dr. Homer Fafoofnik brought a large cage of hamsters into the theater. He and his wife and two teenage sons were in charge of the critters.
“Achmed wanted very much to perform before the other hamsters—they included his own parents. Dr. Fafoofnik and his wife Maureen were in charge of the hamsters, whose cage was set on the floor near the middle of the front row.

“Just before the house lights went down, the custodian, who was falling-down drunk, staggered across the stage and bumped into the main lighting control. The whole place went dark. In the confusion, the cage of hamsters disappeared. Greevely and the theater staff searched the Morpheus from top to bottom. They never found the cage, or the hamsters. Achmed was heartbroken, and he and Greevely left the area. They never performed in California again.”

“That’s a shame,” says Alice. “And the hamsters were never located…”
“Dr. Fafoofnik and his family tried their damnedest to find them,” says Leo. “Searched a dozen times. They went everywhere on the premises but down into the Hellmouth—they even made some holes in the walls, and patched the holes up properly when they were finished.”

“So the only place in the Morpheus where the hamsters could be is the Hellmouth—if they even got that far,” I say.
“Quite,” says Leo. “But, in any case, the fact that Guildford and Cruz came in here looking for hamsters is a coincidence—except, of course, in the most far-fetched scenario.”

“So much for Red’s suggestion,” I say.
“Well, that’s it,” says Leo. I’m off to that Jewel Food Store.”

“Let us know if you find any Seven-Up Candy Bars or Five-5-Somes,” I say.
“Wilcox,” says Leo facetiously. “Thurlow Skagg, Luigi Luglio, and Ulrica Werdin will substitute for me while I’m gone. So long for now.” He vanishes.

Alice and I now sit together on a sofa in the lounge, alone. We smooch a little.
“You know,” I say, “One of the names Leo mentioned rings a bell.”

“Which one?” asks Alice, as she leans her bust against me and drapes her thick auburn tresses over my shoulders.
“That Dr. Fafoofnik. I wonder if he’s related to that overripe blond woman whom we’re supposed to meet at Spike’s pool place. Not that that would have anything to do with hamsters or Guildford and Cruz…”

In a few minutes, with Alice snuggling close, I look at my hands and realize that in the last few minutes I have managed to work Alice’s brassiere right out from under her dress top! :eek:
“Hey!” I say, startled. “Alice, I didn’t know I’d done this!”

Alice looks. She is a little startled too, as she sees the bra; but she playfully slips my hand down into her dress front to feel her breasts. They we hear footsteps coming, and Alice slips the bra into her purse.
George and Betty Galloway return to the lounge, he in sport shirt and black slacks, and she in an unusually tight white blouse and blue jeans. They greet us; I think George notices Alice’s nipples projecting under her dress top. They sit on another sofa, and George, engaging in small talk with his wife, soon realizes he’s just done the same thing I did: he has slipped Betty’s bra off.

Alice and I excuse ourselves and head for our favorite dressing room. We slip our clothes off, lie on the bed, and happily screw the stuffing out of each other.
Now we just lie there for a few minutes; then we hear a familiar meow outside the door.

We dress and open the door. It’s Buster.
“Professor Fields wants to see you both in the kitchen,” the cat says. “It’s about the papers in Shannon Wayble’s locker next door.”

Still slightly disheveled, Alice and I walk with Buster toward the kitchen. We see all of the others, including the children, head for the conference room; all are in regular clothes, including Jeanette, who wears a light blue flannel dress, white pumps—and no underwear.

I ask Buster just as we go into the kitchen. “Before I forget, Buster—have you noticed any hamsters around here?”
The tomcat answers disdainfully:

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“No, damn it. I wish there were a few of those fat plump rodents around though. Them’s good eatin’.”

“Buster, that’s vicious and cruel!” admonishes Alice.

“Hey, I’m a cat!” he explains. “It’s my nature to catch and eat rodents. Who am I to fight 40 million years of evolution?”

“He does have a point,” I tell Alice.

“Well, he doesn’t have to be so open about it,” she replies.

“Why not?” the cat asks. “Whenever I catch some dirty and diseased mouse or rat, you praise me to high heaven and shower me with kitty treats. Yet, if I catch a hamster–or even just express a desire to catch one–you react like I’m the spawn of Satan. Why? Because you humans have arbitrarily decided one particular type of rodent looks too ‘cute and cuddly’ to be filthy, disease-ridden vermin.”

“Look, let’s save the discussion about the reasons why people think some animals make good pets and similar ones don’t for later,” I tell Buster. "Just keep your paws off hamsters … and gerbils … and rabbits–

“How about guinea pigs?” he asks.

“AND guinea pigs,” I add.

After we’re done explaining the rules to Buster, Professor Fields approaches. He says…

829

“There’s no question but that Ms. DeMoss, Ms. Chester, Mr. Davies—and Ms. Wayble—are agents of Threshold,” he says. “The papers include salutations and closings identifying all of those people, and several superiors—along with an admonition to keep this information confidential.”
“Shannon Wayble doesn’t seem to be a conscientious agent,” Alice says.

“Hear, hear,” I say. “And this is the same organization that recruited those tosspots outside the House of Tracy!”
Now Fred appears and tells Fields. “I relieve you, sir.” Fields says goodbye for now and goes on his way.

“Is Leo around?” Fred asks.
“No, he went to a Jewel store in quest of Crystal Pepsi,” I say. “Thurlow, Luigi and Ulrica are subbing for him.”

“Well, I’ll want them to see you just before you begin this mission,” says Fred. “Take the Beetle out to the Galaxy 100 Mall—it’s time to get ready for the mission to Spike’s Pool Emporium.”
“So now we’re Dave Monaghan and Andrea Teller,” says Alice.

“No, not until you meet with Parker or Breastly and they send you out there.”
Fred hands us a few envelopes. These are the same envelopes we received earlier, and had left with Fred at the mansion. “Go to Precious Roy’s Outlet for your cycle getup, and Sherm’s Tattoo Parlor for your ugly tattoos. Then come back here and Mary Blonda will equip you with scars, warts, and, for you, ______, a scruffy beard and a gold earring.”

“Lorna told me something about that,” Alice says. “She used to visit an area of Scotland where men traveling away from home would wear one gold earring—if they died away from home the earring would pay for their burial.”
“I hope we don’t have to go to that extent,” I say as I embrace Alice.

“And the Harley?” Alice asks.
“Arthur and Daniel are finishing it up right now,” Fred says.

Now a few others join us—Joe Bradley, his daughter Susan, and Claudia Hart.
“Are they part of the mission too?” I ask.

“Well, they’re sort of a ‘back-up,’ Fred says. “The people you have to investigate at the pool hall sometimes go to the bar next door or the cycle garage across the street. If you were all in the same place you would arouse the suspicion of everyone else present.”
We understand.

Alice and I, with Parker’s envelopes, get into her Beetle. Joe Bradley, Susan, and Claudia get into Joe’s big Buick sedan, and we head out to the moribund Galaxy 100 Mall.
The usual few cars are parked near the Spires. We park—and I can’t help but wonder if Alice’s talking Beetle is attracted to the Bradleys’ Buick.

We pass by the Spires and I make the hand-on-neck-and-waist sign to Debbie, who is doing waitress stuff at the Spires. She acknowledges.
We go inside and enter Precious Roy’s Outlet, and hand our envelopes to Ted Albert. Joe, Susan, and Claudia have their own envelopes.

“Oh, Claudia Hart—is she deaf-mute?” Ted asks.
“Yes, she is,” Joe says. “My daughter Susan will interpret for her.”

Ted fits Claudia first, with jacket, boots, black jeans, helmet, and gloves. Claudia’s jacket has a name on it—“The Silent Siren.”
Joe and I wait as Alice and Susan get fitted next; the outfits show their curves to some extent. Alice looks fearsome, to say the least! Then Ted fits Joe and me. We leave, and with our outfits in plain paper bags we exit the mall, and signal to Debbie.

Now we go to Sherm’s Tattoo Parlor. It’s not in a low-class neighborhood—it abuts a high-rise office building. Sherm, a short man resembling Gene Shalit, greets us and takes our envelopes. He explains that the tattoos we’ll get aren’t the regular kind applied with needles—they can be easily removed when our mission is over.
Sherm first asks Claudia—Susan interprets for her—what tattoos she wants. Susan gives Claudia’s answer.

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“Just one–a rose entwined around a knife–on her left shoulder.”

“I can do that,” Sherm states. “Oh ____, do you want an Oakland Raider logo tattoo?”

“Are you kidding?” I answer. “Did you see the way they got taken apart by Denver on Monday night? They’ll be lucky to finish at .500 this season.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Sherm says. “I was just asking because you’re posing as a biker and Raider tattoos are–or were–popular among the ‘leather and Harley’ set.”

“I’ll take one,” Alice requests, “but just a small one on my right forearm. I think it’ll make me fit in better.”

“No problem,” he says. “Now how about you ____? What exactly do you want?”

I tell him…

831

“I want the name ‘Andrea’ over the heart, in a plain script, and ‘Samantha’ in the most garish lettering you can apply, on my left shoulder. Then I’d like a dragon, and a sword piercing a heart, on my upper right arm; a big, blue butterfly—with harsh shading—on my left forearm, and your ugliest skull tattoo on my chest.”
When I mention having Alice’s code name “Andrea” over my heart, she blushes and squeezes my hand. :slight_smile:

Joe Bradley says, “I want a skull with a military beret and ‘USMC’ on my left shoulder; and this face on my right shoulder with the name ‘Jane’ below it. [Joe hands Sherm a drawing of Jane’s face; he blushes.] I also want a bloody dagger on my left arm, just below the elbow.”
Sherm takes notes. Now he approaches the 15-year-old Susan, who is wearing a white tank top and black jeans over her curvaceous body.

“And what tattoos do you want, Ms. Bradley?”
Susan says, in a contralto voice much like her mother’s, “I want spiders and cobwebs on my breasts, and a rose tattooed over my navel, and a ‘KEEP OUT!’ sign below the navel, with an arrow pointing at my crotch.”

“Susan! What are you saying?” asks Joe, shocked at what his daughter seems to imply.
“Oh, Dad, it’s just for the mission!” She gives her father her come-on-Dad-you-know-very-well-what-I’m-talking-about look. Joe relents.

She must have learned that “look” from her mother, I think to Alice.
“Oh—one more tattoo,” says Susan. “I want a heart on my right forearm, with an arrow piercing it, and ‘George and Susan—forever’ lettered on it.”

“George?” I ask.
Susan smiles and blushes slightly.

“Yes, _______, George—George Sharp. I couldn’t sustain a relationship with Irwin. But I’ve had my eye on George for a while.”
Alice asks me, “Why did you choose the tattoos you did?”

I say, “Those were the tattoos my Dad had, including the butterfly. Nobody ever laughed at him—he once broke a horseshoe in two with his bare hands.”
Even Sherm reacts to that.

“Except that my Dad didn’t have a skull tattoo at all, and the woman’s name on his shoulder was his first wife, Gloria.”
That’s all. Sherm organizes his notes. First Claudia goes in, with Susan to interpret.

We wait. Sherm gives her the rose twined around a knife, as requested.
Next Susan goes in for her own tattoos. When she comes out I can see she has spider and cobweb tattoos on her bosom, and I can just make out the rose over her navel…

Joe goes in, and gets his set of ersatz tattoos. He proudly shows us the likeness of Jane.
Sherm stands Joe in front of a mirror, so he can see his tattoo of Jane. It looks just like you and your Mom, Claudia signs to Susan.

Alice goes in next, to get the Raider tattoo on her right forearm. (She had told Sherm she is left-handed.) He does a superb job; the logo appears just as it does on the players’ helmets and on billboards I’ve seen.
Last of all I go in; his tattoo room looks like others I’ve seen. He sits me on a stool and uses a special applicator, a pen tethered to a box which has the DXM logo on it. On the pen are several small buttons that he pushes to change the color.

We thank Sherm and return to the Morpheus. When we get there, the rest of our group is in the conference room. Jane and her other four kids are present; George Sharp stands with them. Arthur and Daniel are present, having apparently finished up with the Harley at the Sharps’ mansion. Mary Blonda appears; we know that soon we’ll go with her to the wings for our scars and warts and such. My Mom, Donna Niles, and my older brother, Grant, are also there. Buster, too, is present.

We show the group the clothes and boots we got from Ted. Then we show our kin the ersatz tattoos; Susan is careful about what she shows. Susan’s mother Jane, and my Mom, react and comment first.

832

“I knew your son would be a bad influence on my daughter,” Jane says to my mother with a smile. “He’s a real bad seed.”

“Yup,” my mother says with mock agreement, “no one could steer him right, but I tried.”

“Next thing you know, she’ll be returning tapes to the video store without rewinding them, eating grapes at the supermarket before paying for them, and downloading songs off the internet,” continues Jane.

“Um … I hate to tell you this,” Susan says, “but about the downloading…”

“Oh, why am I not surprised?” her mother says.

“I suppose your going to get sued by the RIAA any time now,” my brother Grant adds. “I’d see a lawyer if I were you.”

“I hate to say this,” I mention, “but that’s no joke.”

However, before we can get into a discussion about the RIAA’s heavy-handed campaign against downloaders, Mary says to us…

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“It’s time for you to get made up for your mission.”
Mary takes Claudia first; Susan, of course, goes along to interpret. Meanwhile, Jane sits on Joe’s lap and lets him paw her boobs. “Honey, I want to be present when Mary makes you up.” As she says this she snuggles close to him and fixes her big blue eyes on him.

“Sure, hon,” Joe says as he kisses her on the mouth. Jane’s three boys, Mike, Billy, and Jimmy blush as they see this; her other daughter Doris giggles.
When Claudia returns she looks appropriately sleazy—purple eyeshadow; blue shading below the eyes; a cuspid blacked out; a ring on her tongue.

While Jane converses with the made-up Claudia in ASL, Susan goes in for her turn. Meanwhile, director Stanhouse, Sylvia Goldstein, and Lorraine Adler (who hasn’t yet gone out to Pauley Drive) return and sit in the front row. Buster trots over to Sylvia, and jumps on her lap. She strokes his fur and he purrs. Stanhouse and Lorraine look on.
Now Susan comes out, looking like the world’s most garish painted lady. With her ghastly makeup, skimpy clothing, repulsive tattoos, and shapely figure, Susan could earn the title of World’s Sleaziest Overgrown Teenager.

With tongue firmly in cheek, Joe, next to be made up, says to Jane, who is still on his lap, “Jane Thompson! What the hell has happened to my daughter?”
Jane facetiously answers, “Dammit! Don’t blame this on me! She must get that from your side of the family! Oh, where did we go wrong?”

Mr. Stanhouse says, “You’re not a member of the Actors’ Guild, are you Mrs. Bradley?” We all laugh.
I ask her, “What would you do to impress those bikers, Jane?”

She answers, “I’d go out to Spike’s place stark naked. Wanna see?”
“NO!!” we all say. :smiley:
Now Joe, with Jane following, goes for his turn. Susan converses with Claudia in ASL about Jane; they both titter uncontrollably.

While this is going on, I ask Johnny Goss to play something on the piano; I give him the sheet music.
I get up on stage and sing,

“School Days, School Days,
Shooting craps and pool days,
Chugging-a-lug at the local bar,
Shooting it up from a hopped-up car.
You were my tramp from head to toe,
I was your two-bit Romeo;
You wrote on my slate, ‘Be careful, Joe,
Or we’ll have a couple of kids!’”

The group laughs.
“Where did you get that?” asks Sylvia, taking notes.
“Dougie_monty posted it as a song parody on www.amiright.com,” I say.

Now Joe and Jane return, Joe has ugly warts on his face, one side tooth blacked out and long scars on his arms and chest. One scar just misses the likeness of Jane on one arm. (Joe, incidentally, already has a beard.)
Alice goes in next, carrying her bag from Roy’s Outlet.

Meanwhile, the garishly caparisoned Susan Bradley approaches George Sharp. She is out of “biker” character and gently squeezes his hand. He blushes deeply. :slight_smile:
“When I finish up at Spike’s—wanna go over to Hiram’s for dinner?” she says sweetly.

“Uh—sure,” says the surprised George.
Now Alice returns. With Mary’s makeup job, and the biker clothes, and her hair matted down, Alice combines the most grotesque elements of the appearance of Phyllis Diller, Cher, and Gloria Grahame’s Violet Bick (in the “unborn” scene in It’s a Wonderful Life). In short, she looks horrible. Just as she hoped she would.

Now it’s my turn. I go with Mary back to the wings. She chides me gently about how I blush—actually, just about all males who see Mary blush, including her husband Bob and their two boys.

I get the full treatment from Mary. I change into my biker getup, which goes along with my beard, tattoos, scars on my face and chest, and scabs and warts on both arms. When we return I get a shocked reaction from nearly everyone as I stride in. Jeanette is so surprised she splits a seam in her dress, exposing her boobs. Claudia, Susan, Joe, Jane, Alice, and I stand together; Jane won’t be on the mission but she looks shocking herself. Alice’s brother Arthur, finished with the Harley, looks at the small group, standing with the over-exposed Jeanette. He says:

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“You all look like a movie poster for some biker flick from the 60’s that was directed by Russ Meyer.”

“I don’t know if I’m exactly big enough to be a Russ Meyer movie,” Alice comments.

Fred arrives on the scene and inspects us.

“Good,” he says, “if a bit over-the-top. ____, how good an actor are you?”

“Well, I haven’t really done any acting since I was in a school play,” I inform him.

“The reason I ask is that I was wondering if you could convincingly stagger around while you’re at Spike’s,” Fred explains, “like you’re drunk or stoned.”

“I can give it a try,” I say.

“Okay, let’s see you reel across the stage,” Fred states. “But don’t be too theatrical.”

Trying my best to look sloshed, I unsteadily walk from stage left to stage right.

Fred gives his assessment…

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“Well, you could do better. It looks like you’re doing a strange dance from the early 70s.” This gets a laugh, from Fred and almost everyone else, including Alice.
I remember something. I change my stance and stagger from stage right to stage left.

“That’s perfect!” says Mr. Stanhouse. That’s straight out of Ray Milland in Lost Weekend. Where did you learn that?”
“That’s the way my drunkard stepfather walked when he was almost falling-down drunk,” I reply.

“What do you drink?” Sylvia asks.
“Sherry,” I say. “I’m used to it. I suppose I could down three cans of Budweiser without batting an eye.” Fred nods.

Alice now asks, “Fred, do you want meto do a drunken walk?”
“No,” he says. “I’ll explain in a minute what I want you and Claudia and Susan to do. Right now—Joe Bradley, on stage. Do a drugged walk.”

Joe, in his biker getup, steps onstage and walks back and forth a few times as if he has been shooting heroin. His performance is so good and he looks so pathetic that Jane and her kids are on the verge of tears.
“Very convincing, Joe,” says Fred.

Joe says, “Thanks, Fred,” and, now out of the character, strides over to Jane and embraces her. She and the kids seem still on the verge of tears. “It’s OK, Jane, honey,” he says tenderly. “I was acting.” She pulls herself together.
“Now, Alice, Susan, Claudia, front and center,” says Fred. They go on stage, and stand at “parade rest,” facing Fred.

“I want you to assume postures suggesting you are streetwalkers.”
Susan signs this to Claudia. Then all three of them stride back and forth on the stage in lady-of-the-evening postures. Their hips swivel wildly and they thrust their breasts forward; Claudia is not very well endowed in that regard, but she acts as though she really is. The whole group going on the mission, including me, now stands onstage. The group in the seats applauds, as if this were Ted Mack’s Amateur Hour.

“You may want to practice the movements and postures,” says Fred, “until Parker or Breastly contacts us to say it’s time for the mission—that should be within the next few hours, of course.”
“Oh, Mr. Moreland,” says Jeanette, her bosom still bare, “Speaking of Russ Meyer…”

As if on cue, all the persons present under 18 leave the room; my Mom and Grant go with them, to the conference room. All the females remaining step onstage and face director Stanhouse.
“Now!” says Jeanette. All the women onstage expose their breasts! :eek: They just stand there as if posing for a picture.

Stanhouse laughs. He says facetiously, “I didn’t know what you gals kept under those tops!” All the women laugh.
Alice tells me to get her Minolta from her purse. I do so; there’s one unused exposure left on the film. She says, “Get a picture of us.”

Surprised, I comply and snap the shutter. Then the women all cover themselves; Jeanette takes a bobby pin from her huge purse to tie the fabric together where the seam split. They return to their men, or sit alone.
“Let’s get this developed,” says Alice. We go a few doors down the street to Max’s Photo Shop; Max is an old friend of mine.

On the way back from the shop, we hear a scream in Kerrie’s place, followed by the loud, angry voice of Quincy Davies.
“Good God!” says Alice. “He must be robbing the place!”

Out of the corner of my eye I see a police car approaching. Bob Long and Winifred are in it. They park and run into Kerrie’s place.
Suddenly, a passing car veers, and its brakes screech. It skids and hits a lamppost. Winifred and Bob return to the street; Bob has Davies in handcuffs. Winifred goes to the car that plowed into the lamppost. The driver is unconscious and Winifred calls for paramedics. She gets the wallet of the driver: It’s Pula Kinlai, the tiny man Alice chased through the catacombs!

Alice mentions “Threshold!” and Quincy Davies moans, “Oh, no!”
The paramedics and Winifred leave with Davies in the ambulance; he’ll go to the jail ward. A tow truck comes to haul Kinlai’s car away. Alice and I figure Kinlai and Davies must have escaped custody.

Bob Long goes back into the Morpheus with us, back to the stage area.
He prepares to tell us about getting the goods on Davies, and on Kinlai—when Bob patted Davies down, he found a letter from Kinlai—very incriminating to Kinlai and Davies—in a pocket of the Cockney’s slacks.

The letter has the same Threshold logo that was on the fax Long had sent us.
So we prepare to discuss the apprehension of Pula Kinlai, and ask Jeanette why she got all the women to show their boobs.

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I should have said that Kinlai was going to the jail ward; Davies was not injured and is just going to jail.
On with the story:

837

“Oh, it was a response to something Stanhouse said backstage,” she explains.

“What did he say?” I ask.

"He said…

838

“He wanted us all to behave in a ‘more feminine’ manner,” says Jeanette. Aware of the presence of Grace Tolliver and Samantha—who also got on stage and bared their breasts—Jeanette makes a point.
“Remember when I came into Eloise’s kitchen and Lupe called me an ‘effeminate man’ in Spanish?” Jeanette asks. “I exposed my bosom, to show her I was not a man. Granted what I suggested here and now was contrived, but I wanted to suggest ‘positive reinforcement’ of the female’s proper status, while also giving the others something to laugh about.”

“Very eloquently put, Ms. Strong,” says Mr. Stanhouse. Grace and Samantha both nod. The married women sit with their husbands, who embrace them closely. The second generation—the children of the five married couples who remained, being over 18—seem to get the message. Andy Sharp squeezes Joanie’s hand. Cornelis Oranjeboom kisses his wife Hannah, who is quite obviously heavy with child and did not get onstage. Jeanette sits with Jerry, Johnny, and Phil; Alice steps off the stage and clings to me.

Now Bob Long speaks.
“We found some suspicious documents on Pula Kinlai besides that letter, when I patted him down. Winifred just radioed me that she has already gone to the District Attorney’s office to start the ball rolling on a search warrant for Kinlai’s home.”

“It’s very likely he’s a ‘big man’—well, you know what I mean—of Threshold,” says Fred.
Now Joan Breastly arrives. She wears a gold lame dress and gold pumps and has her hair done up in a fancy hairdo. She looks as glitzy and sexy as some of the women who attended the recent Emmy ceremony; she surprises even George Stanhouse and Lorraine Adler. She calls Alice and me to the back row now.

We get there and sit with her.
“Here is your mission,” she says. “There are four people—two men and two women—who frequent Spike’s Pool Emporium, whom you are to investigate. You are to find out whether they are Threshold agents. You may follow them around, pick their brains, and ask around about them. But don’t confront them! They may just peg you as nosy bikers if you follow our procedure. And remember the book What to Say.”

“How do we contact you?” Alice asks.
“Use your telepathy,” Joan says. “If your message is not too sensitive, just call me on my cell phone.” She gives us the number on her card.

Now she hands us each an envelope. Inside is a check, for each of us, for $1000. “That’s half the money,” she says. “You get the other half when you finish the mission. And use this log to write down the data you gather. Good luck.”
She gives us the DXM handshake, and ambles down to Bob Long, to talk about Pula Kinlai.

“Ten to one she already knows about Bob and Winifred collaring Pula,” I say.
“Let’s save the gambling for the mission,” says Alice, squeezing my hand.

We put our biker clothes back on and take Alice’s talking Beetle back to the Sharps’ place, where we’ll pick up the Harley.
The car speaks, still in the Fran Drescher voice.

“Ms. Breastly had one more bit of DXM info for you,” says Car. “If you want to gamble, tell Spike ‘Bottled by blondes’; that’s the gambling password. If he gives the countersign, ‘Under USSR Government Suspicion,’ you may gamble at the pool tables—but only then.”
I use telepathy to confirm this with Fred; he tells us Car is correct.

At the Sharps’, we park the Beetle and the Pinkerton guard directs us to the Harley-Davidson “hog” we’ll use. It’s full-size, professionally equipped, and glistens in the sun. We climb on the bike and don our helmets. Alice clamps onto me from behind.
I fire up the motorcycle and we roar away. We get out to Spike’s Pool Emporium. Oddly, it’s nearly empty right now. I park the cycle and Alice and I go in.

Spike Grant, in overalls and red T-shirt, stands behind the bar. We stride over and we each order a can of Budweiser. With the cans we walk over to a table near where Leroy Sims, who resembles Beetle Bailey’s Lieutenant Flap, plays eight-ball with an unidentified opponent. They’ve just finished a set. Alice and I follow Parker’s orders and introduce ourselves to Leroy, with our code names, Dave Monaghan and Andrea Teller.

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“Wanna play?” Leroy asks as applies chalk to his pool cue.

“Sure,” I reply. “Can I break?”

“I wasn’t asking you,” Leroy curtly says. “I was asking your friend Andrea.”

“I’m game,” Alice enthusiastically answers. “But what do you say we toss in $20 to make it interesting.”

“Let’s do it,” Leroy replies as gathers up the balls into the rack and the sets the orange striped apex ball on the foot spot. “Do you want to break?”

“Yes,” Alice calmly answers as she takes a cue off the wall.

“Are you sure you don’t need a stool or something?” Leroy cracks in reference to Alice’s diminutive stature.

“No, that won’t be necessary,” Alice cooly answers as she takes aim with her cue, shoots, and sends the balls scattering all over the table. One–the solid scarlet red 3-ball–goes into the upper right pocket.

“You’re stripes,” Alice says to Leroy as she takes aim at the solid purple 4-ball. She shoots and banks the ball off the top and into the center left hole. Then, without pausing, she aims at and knocks the solid blue 2-ball into the lower left pocket. I look at Leroy and see he has both an impressed and surprised look on his face. Alice, meanwhile, with her concentration entirely on the pool table, continues knocking the balls into the holes with only one shot–finishing off all the solids (except the 8-ball) and then moving on to the stripes. Leroy now has a stunned and dumbfounded expression on his face.

“Damn,” he murmurs.

Alice sinks the 8-ball and collects $20 from Leroy. He did not shoot once during the entire game.

Leroy looks me over and says, “Do you want to play, Dave?”

I answer…

840

“Well, I’m game too, Leroy,” I say with a quiet smile. “You break this time.”
Leroy sets the balls in the triangle, removes it, and shoots first. With this first shot he knocks one solid ball into the far right-hand pocket. He shoots again, and again, and again, knocking all but one of the solid balls into the pockets. Then I take aim at the striped 10-ball, and deftly shoot it into the right-hand side pocket. I shoot the 13-ball into the far left-hand pocket and aim at the 15-ball, to hit it into the near right-hand corner pocket. I miss and knock the cue ball in.

“Damn,” I say. Leroy smirks.
He takes aim at the last solid ball and knocks it in. Then he puts the remaining striped balls in, one by one. And with a flourish he taps the 8-ball into the left-hand side pocket. He chortles and says, “Your turn to pay up, Monaghan!” I sigh and hand Leroy a $20 bill.

Now a few other people come in. One I recognize as Mabel Fafoofnik, from the picture Parker provided. In fact one of her nipples keeps poking out of her tube top.
“Cool it, Mabel,” says Spike. “I had to have my last pair of overalls dry-cleaned.”

Mabel, with a cigarette dangling from her lip, gives Spike a look suggesting what he can do if he doesn’t like it.
“Heya, Leroy,” says Mabel. “Who’s ya friends?”

Alice and I introduce ourselves.
Mabel inspects my tattoos.

“A butterfly?” she says with a laugh. Well, My Dad had to deal with this.
“Glad to meet ya, Ms. Fafoofnik,” I say, giving Mabel a quite firm handshake.

She is taken aback by my grip; I guess I am the strongest “butterfly” she has ever met.
“Do you or your pipsqueak lady friend play billiards?”

“I do,” says Alice. “Call me Andi.”
“OK, Andi, ya pipsqueak,” gushes Mabel. They walk over to a billiard table; Mabel picks a cue stick. Before they can start, however, a drunken older man staggers into the place. He flashes Alice and Mabel and then vomits slightly on the floor. Spike sees this and grabs a dirty old rag and a seltzer bottle from behind the bar, and strides angrily over to the drunken visitor.

“Hey Rummy—didn’t I tell you never to come panhandling around here? Huh?” Spike then gives the man a strong squirt of seltzer. Leroy and Mabel laugh wickedly. The drunk crumples to the floor and starts swearing at Spike.
Alice and I get paper towels and clean up the mess. Spike hustles the drunk out the door. He sits against the wall and starts talking to himself. Spike calls the cops.

Now I get a telepathic message. This is Joe Bradley, _____, he says. I’m next door at Rhex’s Bar. Bob Long and Winifred will be out here to pick that tosspot up—and they know you’re on a DXM mission with us.
“Who is that guy?” I ask Spike.

“His name is Garry Warner,” says Spike. “He sold the place to me 20 years ago. Since then he seems to have nothing better to do than get sozzled at Rhex’s place—then he staggers back in here and usually attacks me, claiming he still owns the place. They must have tossed him out next door.”
Now Joe Bradley comes into view; he’s apparently done for now in Rhex’s Bar. He leans against a lamppost and lights a cigarette.

“And that’s all Warner does, eh?” I ask Spike.
“Well, lately, I also see him talking to two guys down the street in a black limousine,” Spike answers. “I don’t know what they want with him.”

Warner may be another bindlestiff recruited by Threshold, I think to Alice.
You’re right, Honey—they sure know how to pick ’em! she replies.

Now, at Herman’s Cycle Garage across the street, I see a scuffle between three young women. I recognize two of them as Susan and Claudia, apparently trying to defend themselves against a scrappy redhead who resembles Pink. Joe sees this and stands ready to help his daughter and her friend, but the other woman runs across the street into Spike’s place. Susan and Claudia catch their breath. Spike blocks the redhead from coming in; he bellows, “I told you no fighting in here, Gertie! Get out!” He pushes her out. Joe beckons to Susan and Claudia; they come across the street; Joe glowers at “Gertie.” He protects Susan and Claudia as they come into Spike’s place, peacefully and politely.

Now, just before starting her game of billiards with Mabel, Alice asks Susan, “What was that all about?”