JMJ


                                                              For you Jacquie

                                                             JOURNAL TWO
                                                               of two journals


                                                                INFILTRATE
                                                                         aka
                                                           MISSION TWITCH
copyright 1996/2010
bill crumish/Jacquie Avril

c/o Shadow Trackers
PO Box 11
Howes Cave N.Y. 12092

Continuation of Journal One: The Cobleskill Proposition aka 'The Big C' Proposition.
Declassified  March 2010: DoD.

Journal Two, is late due to water damage, coded entries and intercepts and pages covered in coffee stains.

                                                                   PROLOGUE 
In the search for Martin Bormann: Magie Carousel and Steve Ptah have studied *'The Life Past & Future, Mind & Conduct of Nazi Party Reich Minister Martin Bormann.'  The technique of this report was developed by ancient history professors and  used by American and British intelligence experts, during and right after World War Two and is known as prosopography. It's purpose is to painstakingly make a missing person like Bormann come alive as if Bormann spoke acted in Magie and Steve's company. *(The Bormann Brotherhood by William Stevenson.)

If this Herr Schutzstaffel was Bormann  and kept at a constant age of 45 years old, when he vanished from Berlin in 1945, by telomere research and breakthroughs performed on poor souls at   Nazi Concentration Camp by torturous criminal  so called doctors (Dr. Nadich) Josef Mengele and other notorious Nazi criminal doctors and sadistic Nazi scientists, wanted for Crimes against Humanity,  Doctor Magie Carousel's theoretical hypothesis shows that it may effect brain functions and personality of the Reich Minister.  And his 'fruitcakeness' may be exasperated by Dr. Magie Carousel's uncanny look-a-like appearance of Martin Bormann's sweetie-mistress Manja Behrins as she looked as a young beautiful woman back in the late 1930's and early forties.

If not,  his prosopography shows him to be psychologically astute with the instinct of a dangerous predator for sizing up individuals.  Perhaps this is why so many Government Agents from many allied countries have disappeared over the years which their governments have kept secret.  If it is not Bormann the governments would appear foolish and incompetent for spending so much money for a fruitless search.  If they were sure it was Bormann it would be difficult and extremely expensive to prove it.  After all Bormann and his evil and nefarious machinations today would not be relevant in an increasing amoral world.

Therefore only a bizarre and most successful finger unit that falls between the cracks of present Government Intelligence obesity and for all intents and purposes does not exist  and reports only to (REDACTED) is capable of  making sure *George Santayana's profound and 'grizzly' prophesy does not come true again. 'Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it.' *  That United States military finger unit is called  'The Cloakroom.'   *The Life of Reason.

                                                                        ***

The World in 1994: Grizzled thinking Boliviating scientist Couchie Soleshoe  demands the worlds population must be cut in half immediately if not sooner otherwise the earth will run out of resources in 3 years. 'Think kill. kill. kill. But not me, I'm too important.'
 Laureate Belle Lolly states 'warming of the planet will account for unusually blow zero weather on earth for the next two centuries. Her statement to the Nobel Prize Committee ''Are you going to feel what I tell you to feel, or, are you going to feel what you really feel."
   The war in the former Yugoslavia is almost over.  Maybe?
   The war in the Mideast is almost over.  Maybe?
  The war in Somalia is almost over. Maybe?
  And 'No one noticed the war in Irian Jaya ever happened,' so states Swiss Cheese magnate and scientist Doctor Hibou Whoo.
  Experts predict 'The Ford Edsel is making a comeback.'  Maybe?
  Lum Pratfall announces to the world  'He does not have irrefutable proof that it hasn't rained on the planet Mars in over three billion years.' This caused a Worldwide  protests by numerous Martian invaders disguised as human mental patients.
 More Washington DC politicians are coming out of the closet and declaring themselves 'openly stupid.' And so it was in 1994...
                                                                           
                                                                               ***

Some of the happenings when we left Journal One in February 1994. Magie Carousel and Steve Ptah had their merengue dance master Datu bestow a most painful 'Datu Limp' upon them as they prepared for a mission into the past.

'The Noggin' Magie's sage, in the part of his huge mansion that was not destroyed by the explosion of numerous hydrogen filled Barrage Balloons in the mansion's main ballrooms, was giving instructions to his goombah crew, Goombah Wong, intern goombah Myron Insolentt, head of one of the most secret government research centers in the States between Middleburgh and the 'Big C,' Ganadage frau Puckarber, 'The Noggin's' (I was in Switzerland during WW2) housekeeper and Phibbs, 'The Noggin's British manservant and savant when Phibbs announced in that 'British Stuffy' accent that 'I believe someone is shooting at us.'

Molly, the owner, violently denies being the owner, of Molly's Irish Tavern located at Icelickers Mall on the east end of the 'Big C' was putting together a file from her source Goombah Wong on the activities of Magie Carousel and her partner Steve Ptah possibly for Herr Schutzstaffel in Panama City Panama and trying to fulfill her assignment from the IRA to assassinate a 'Big C' resident.
Herr Schutstaffel, who may be Martin Bormann the worlds most hunted Nazi war criminal, is also the worlds champion merengue dancer in the turbulent underworld of unofficial merengue dancing and can find no one good enough to dance with him so he's entering the championship merengue dance contest by himself, again.

Acid Burns air raid warden for 'The Big C,' waitress for Molly's Irish Tavern and believes she is a Peacock from ancient Mesopotamia or Brooklyn was searching the night sky for 'blitzkrieging' Messerschmidt aircraft.

'The Tongan' yelled in pigeon Tongan "Eufa Eufa Po Aufa" (A guy named Shmoe) before smashing through a wall of Magie's third floor apartment, giving Magie and Steve a clue of immense stupidity.
.
Reentry (Leader of the New Age movement) Molly's bar patron, and just recently came out of the closet and announced to the world he holds the rank of exalted  doofus in the New Age movement is still missing after he thought he could fly.

Judge Quackers, on 'The Noggin's' payroll among other payrolls supplied 'The Noggin' some dooming information that effects the happenings in Panama City, Panama and concerns notorious terrorist Carlos 'The Jackass' Illich Sanchez Ramirez  known for his braying before he strikes.

                                                                             ***
JOURNAL ENTRY:

Wednesday
01 June 1994
8:10PM

American Airlines Flight 111
Airline  seats 6A and 6B
Twenty Two Minutes from Landing at Tocumen Airport
Panama City, Panama

'Emanuel, Magie.... Emanuel.'

"We'll be landing in a short while," Magie commented looking out her 737 window at the carpet of green below her.  "I hope we'll be able to see the Canal before it gets too dark."

"We'll see it," Steve said, glancing at his watch that contains a miniature white noise interference signal that distorts any close range passengers hearing if they try to listen in but does not effect routine aircraft operation.  "Now just one more time.  Remember whether this is Martin Bormann or a delusional nutcase Herr Schutszaffel he is a goose stepping homicidal maniac horror story."

"Steve, you think this Herr Schutzstaffel, no matter who he is, might have heard of me?  I mean after all I'm famous not only for my theoretical physics but also for my advancement in telomere research among many other achievements and many accolades I continuously receive."

"Yeah, yeah, I know you're  great."

"Steve you know material awards or social applause have no interest for me.  You know that."

 "Yeah, I know that Magie.  I wish I didn't but I do.   We've spoke about this before Magie and the answer is still the same.  There are too many variables.  If he is Bormann and through some freak of telomere science with Stumfegger and Mengele's ghastly medical experiments... well even though Bormann is a homicidal  maniac he's not stupid.  Martin Bormann, known as the grinning lunatic has or had street smarts--"

"I wish you would stop using the phrase 'homicidal maniac," Magie's tone shuddered a bit. "Oh there's the Bridge of America's

"Aw that's just 'mission twitch.'   I'm hoping if it's Bormann, when he sees you... well you look more like his only true love Manja Behrins than she looked like herself back in the late thirties in Germany. And discreetly let him know your birthday is the same as his...at least the day and the month seventeen June.  That should knock his socks off."

"Steve, you're not helping my 'mission twitch' with those archaic sayings from the past.  Next you'll be telling me to 23 skidoo whatever that means and I don't want it explained to me."

"Look at it this way, if it is really Bormann maybe with all the drugs and whatever else it takes to keep those telomeres form getting short and freezing the aging process... well maybe it has affected his mind and he became stupid like you hypothesized.  Even... Fuhrer stupid.  And if it's not Bormann... just he and his cohorts pretending to be him then I'm sure they probably don't even know what a telomere is. Or who Manja Behrins is...was. Just remember everything you learned about Bormann."

"Steve, I have come to realize how may things can you be so sure of that is not so.  Besides, everyone knows what a telomere is."

"You still have a hang-up with details Magie.  Forget details just remember--"

"Steve, we've been over this hundreds of times," Magie whispered back still looking out the window as the aircraft began its slow decent.  Bormann aka Schutzstaffel rules by Devine right, omnipotent, avatar, resolute leader, psychopathic brilliance, spots weakness in others, a psychopath above average intelligence, highly manipulative, convincing, seeks out human weakness, has the peasant strength and body of a bull and has a magnetic personality.  His main weakness is lack morality, sings off key, claims Jus Primae Noctis.

 You know Steve, except for his having no morality, being a homicidal maniac  and his claim of Jus Primae Noctis  he could be your twin.  And I'm not too sure about the homicidal maniac."

"Very funny," Steve said, adjusting his sitting position. "But you forgot the most important thing.  His reptilian stare.  It's mesmerizing, hypnotic, part of his lunatic grin."

"Steve, I haven't forgotten that reptilian stare.   And I know: One, we are to become participants rather than observers  of  Herr Schutzstaffel's activities and interests.  Two, interaction with subjects and third parties is sought. Three, Initiate and direct conversations  to further objectives.  Four, document cover which was your job. Five, government trained individuals and local individuals are not suitable for this type of operation because their arrogance would blow their cover and besides they have all fallen in love with their own letterhead the kiss of death for government undercover agents and all politicians.  See Steve, I remembered the whole book  Infiltration 101--"

Magie's dissertation was interrupted by the thump of the landing gear being lowered and the slowing of the speed of the aircraft from 585 miles per hour made the aircraft feel as if it was coming to a stop in mid-air.

"And I still think I should use Manja Behrins birthday12 April 1918 for me and not my real birthday.  "I'm mortified the real Martin Bormann  and my birthday coincide."

"I don't think so Magie.  That would be too many coincidences.  Let hope if it is Bormann he has fallen in love with his own letterhead."

 " Maybe? That's the Canal now much closer," Magie whispered in a soft but excited tone  "It looks like we can all most touch it. And the Bridge of America's again way over there now.  We must have circled. Steve as I questioned before I would think if this nitwit is Martin Bormann he is irrelevant by now.".

"Sure he is, but his legacy lives on Magie.  If he is Bormann and he has found a way to stop his telomeres from shrinking and stop his aging process, or, worse yet somehow scientifically increase the length of his telomers and, as crazy as it sounds, become younger, with all the loot he has stolen what's to stop him from recreating another Nazi catastrophe killing millions again using another nut puppet like 'Dolph' sitting on Bormann's lap?"

"It's not so crazy Steve.  Don't forget one of my Ph. D's is in Ancient Middle East culture and--"

"Middle East... what does that have to do with...please, I don't want to know.  No more perverted lectures on--"

"When's the last time you read a book Steve?  And I don't mean a comic book.  Listen Steve take that 'Vacancy Available' sign off that thing that's supposed to be a brain.  Stopping the shrinking or even lengthening telomers to stop aging has been theoretical but now possible.  I told you my research was being indirectly financed by the Bilderbergers headquartered in Luxembourg.  When I surmised what they were planning I gave them useless findings that will take them up wrong trails for years.  And keeping my real research secret."

"Ya know Magie, it's too bad a big secret organization like the Bilderbergers can't just stay with making the finest hamburgers in the world."

"And investing in Roller Derby teams.  Don't forget my sage, Doo Doo, wants me to convince this Panamanian Roller Derby team to, as you would say, saddle up with my sage."

 'Dangerous Magie, Dangerous. Too many things happening.  You have a strong faith based belief in God.  Use your saying of the Rosary as an inexhaustible '50 round clip of ammunition.' "

"My prayers to the The Eternal Father and to The Blessed Mother, The Immaculate Conception is the only thing that helped me with you being my partner all this time."

"I'm not that bad Magie... Am I?"

"I still remember that cold winter night when that idiot Datu, smashed my left foot with that rubber mallet.  The pain was excruciating. 

"Our left foots... I mean our left feet Magie.  Our feet.  Besides we offered up the pain to a good cause. To all the souls in purgatory, the sick and so on.  Now remember," Steve said, as the tires of the 737 touched the tarmac giving up a short squeak.  "Objective," Steve said. "Intelligence is getting something that someone else does not want us to know.  Two, knowledge is the  synthesis of intelligence, information and data. It comes from out of our heads not out of papers.  And of course my secret escape hatch plan."

"Yes, you nut.  'If anything goes wrong...run.'  What kind of secret escape---Wow.  I can feel that heat and humidity and the doors are not even open yet.. Steve, stop worrying about me.  And stop reading the riot act to me we'll be fine," Magie said as the plane was taxing then coming to a full stop and the orders for debarking is being announced.

"You remember what's going to happen now."  Steve said to Magie as they walked toward the door of the aircraft.

"Steve," Magie said touching his right arm.  "Emanuel.'

"Steve smiled at her and answered, "Emanuel,  Magie  Emanuel."  As Steve exited the door, again he turned his head slightly to Magie.  "Oh I may have forgotten to tell you, expect to be arrested before we get out of the airport."

"Whaaa?" Magie looked as if she was unexpectedly hit in the face with a cactus filled cream pie.
***

JOURNAL ENTRY:

Wednesday
01June 1994
8:45PM

Tocumen Airport Arrivals, Panama City Panama. A Marimba troupe on a motorized float maneuvered through the hustling crowd playing 'The Jerk in the Black Cape'    Humid and hot 92 degrees on the tarmac.  The arrival lounge a pleasant 76 degrees is bustling with passengers meeting relatives, friends, business connections, seen and unseen enemies.

"The Boobie brothers have been activated."

"Did you see them?"  Steve asked in a low growl, he is dressed in a khaki light jacket with desert tan pants and swede, light tan cowboy boots, complements of  'Mays' Department Store, Nevins street downtown Brooklyn, as they headed into the Arrivals Area after Immigration and a sort of Customs then spotted  the signs to the very distant long white and carmel colored hallway toward the taxi stand.  The whole area of the Arrivals center was dashing but yet something about ambiance seemed unstable.  Steve gestures and walking were different, not like a jungle cat in Journal One back in the 'Big C.'  This time a little nerdy, dark-humorous kind of way.  Magie's style was still elegant as usual.  They kept their heads down when the spoke to thwart airport cameras and any lip readers lurking about.

"See who? Magie asked, her touch of mesmerizing Tanzanian He He tribe Phantasia almost nonlethal perfume complementing the white cotton dress, matching light hand crocheted designer shawl all by Rainforest  Calm.  Finishing out her ensemble  faux Yenta Yoiks whimsical tan flats.  "What was that scent out on the tarmac that hit us when we dismounted from the aircraft and were walking to the terminal?"

"The three Boobie Brothers," Steve said, his senses on high alert. "The assassin's I told you about.  There not really brothers--"

"What?" Magie questioned.  "More of your escaped lunatic acquaintances no doubt. Can you still notice my limp?"

"What limp? Oh, that was the sent of insecticide mixed with the jungle heat and humidity."

"You mean Rain Forest."

"Huh," Steve grunted in a whisper that denoted he wasn't really listening and turning the three hunters into prey without them realizing it.  A stranger approaches Steve and Magie as they enter the main passenger area crowded with humanity rushing to and fro. Steve could tell by the stranger's attire he was a local.  He was wearing an extremely large red sombrero,  gray thin shirt, probably a knockoff of Akenfeet or some other halfwit designer that Magie is always talking about. A prison number, PCJ 00014 over the left torn chest pocket and on the back 'Guest of the PCJ.' his matching gray pants held up by clothes line suspenders covered in grease and soot with the odor of Freon. His jowls and belly shook as he whispered in a Cuna Indian accent.

  "I am a gay Forest Green, shrimper to the world. You and the little senora in the market for a kitchen sink?"
***

JOURNAL ENTRY:

Wednesday
01 June 1994
8:52PM

U.S. Army base Fort Yuma, Arizona, electronic intercept telephone conversation per NSA P-145.  Airport and hospital videos added to intercept at Ft. Yuma dubbing.
From: Goombah Wong, Panama City Airport, Florida (extremely noisy.)  To: Doo Doo 'The Noggin' Fazoo's hospital room, Private Receiving Emergency Hospital, Bull Weed Road, Psychiatric ward room A-1 'The Big C.' (Much yelling.)

'A 'Flyin' Pancake, a Python, Goombah Crackpola and The Stroll.'

"Phibbs told me I could get a hold of ya here," Goombah Wong screams into the Panama City, Florida airport payphone  "How'd ya get back in the nut ward again 'Noggin.'  You sneakin' in those hydrogen Barrage balloons the Fed's stopped you havin' with that 'restrange' order?" Goombah Wong, holding the phone goombah style (like a Aly Oop club) shouts over the din of passenger joy hysteria.  "Ain't seen no monkeys yet but I stepped on some Lowland gorilla spoor."

"Bark louder ya ferbonie I can't hear ya too well ya ferbonie."  'The Noggin' is dressed in one of his stylish smoking non-tied-yet straight jackets with red fighting dragons on a silver-shimmering background complemented by his usual wearing of elf-dragon pointy-toed slippers that still make that dragon, with laryngitis, roar as he hops around.

Goombah Wong hysterical-screams his question again as the 1960's 'pre The Stroll' dance music is piped in throughout the 'Big C' Private Emergency Receiving Hospital rooms and hospital hallways.

"Naw ya ferbonie. I was sellin' one of 'The Noggin's' paintings, ya know ya ferbonie, the ones 'The Noggin' mixes  'The Noggin's' paint with nitroglycerin... the paint so bright it explodes off the ferbonie canvas to that ferbonie Insolentt and he dropped it as 'The Noggin' was handing it to him.  The next thing 'The Noggin's' knows 'The Noggin's' back in the Private Emergency Receiving Hospital with that ferbonie Insolentt.

We should get out in a few goombah days as soon as our hearing clears up, 'The Noggin' can't hear 'Goombah-Crakpola,' and our eyebrows start growing back... We lost all our toenails and a few other damaged parts gotta be goombah fixed.  That idiot ferbonie Insolentt ruined one of 'The Noggin's best paintings.  Where are you?  You got my sweetie Magie and that bonehead Ptah in ya ferbonie sights?"

 "Now now Mister Fazoo," nurse Tight screamed as nurse Whi approaches rapidly to help her colleague, seemingly yodeling as she raced over, "Now, now Mister Fazoo, you don't want us to put your custom designed Fratajay restraints back on if you get excited again."

"You two ferbonie floozies don't know me well enough to call me 'Fazoo.'  Call me 'The Noggin' ya ferbonies.  Is it really necessary to post armed febonie guards with order to shoot to tranquilize at 'The Noggin's' hospital room door ya ferbonie floozie."

"What's goin' on 'Noggin' I ain't no floozie.  I'm Goombah Wong."

"They're there for your protection Mister Doo Doo.  You know how your adoring public and the paparatzzi can't get enough of you,"  Nurse Whi groaned as recently hired Head Psychiatric nurse Werdmeharpgo as she enters 'The Noggin's' rubber incased hospital room tearing  her deportation notice into shreds.

"Listen ya ferbonie, Where are ya?  You keepin' Magie and that idiot Ptah in you ferbonie sights like I told ya?"

"Yeah, yeah 'Noggin,"  Goombah Wong tries to scream over the airport noise, his split tongue smoothing back is hairy eyebrows   "There's a huge crowd shouting  at the arrival of 'Blivetzee,' the mysterious  graffiti artist that leaves unwanted nondescript atrocious drawings on any blank wall he encounters. Plus The Loyal Order of Oddvarks conventioneers arriving at the same time.  "I'm callin' from the Panama City Airport.

 I tried to take a cab to the Caesar Palace hotel and wait for them there likes we planned but the mutton head cab driver calling himself Old Loaf of somethin' said there ain't no Caesar Palace hotel in Panama City.  When I tell the jerk I works for 'The Noggin' and I'm gonna goombahrize him if he ain't takin' me there,  this Old Loaf yells 'Yummpin Yimminy into his cab radio.  Next thing these taxi drivers and the Old Loaf guy toss me outa his cab. I need a hand to find the stupid hotel."

"A band?"  'The Noggin' yells in a Goombah soprano timber as he tries to hear over the shouting nurses trying to dislodge the phone from his hand not realizing he has a goombah grip on it.
"Band ya ferbonie?  What band?  I didn't say anything about a--"

"Drop the phone Mr. Fazoo," Doctor Toot said in Mandarin,  North Beijing slang, betraying his plastique surgery and now wearing his deadpan face and 'ra-tat-tat' drum voice.  "Or I'll be forced to tranquilize you with my Russian Dragonov sniper rifle."

"Speak English, Doctor Toot,"  Nurse Tight said, her words sounded like flute notes."

"I am speaking English you horsehead,"  Doctor Toot growls in Mandarin.

"'The Noggin' turns toward Myron Insolentt whose feet are in traction from the painting exploding when he dropped it.  "That ferbonie wants to hire a band to follow Magie and the idiot Ptah."

"I don't want to be connected anymore," Myron Insolentt moans in his XXX hospital greens still designed by Aunt Nila's Hospital Duds.  Ever since I became a goombah and even as a 'swabee'
goombah-in-training I have been continuously blown up, shot at, numerous motor vehicle wrecks-- I've spent more time in this nut house than at my job ya--""

"Ahhh shut up ya febonie.  'The Noggin' needs ya, ya ferbonie to bring 'The Noggin's' Panamanian Bilderberger's roller derby team into the States and get a personal intro that ferbonie Carlos 'The Jackass' Illich Ramirez Sanchez to get rid of Ptah."

"Hi everyone, you remember me of course Mister 'Noggin,'  No need for you all to come to attention.  My Ober-Fuher days are in the past. Of course you all know me, Doctor Bull Weed the President of the Private Emergency Receiving Hospital, they named the road to here after me.

 I am introducing a head psychiatric nurse I just hired," Bull Weed, a member of the 'Tall Administrtors Club of  'The Big C' '  said in a cheerleading  singsong voice, his eyes balls shifting continuously in 'rabid'  from side-to-side in ceaseless motion. "She is head nurse Wander Werdmeharpgo. Or something like that. You may call her 'Boss.' Oh I see she is here already sticking...are those pins Head Nurse Werdmeharpgo in your doll ... that amazingly looks like me?

 She is from a disputed unnamed island no one wants to claim, first settled by the Vikings four thousand years ago not too near the island of Bipi part of the Admiralty Islands in the Bismark Archipelago where she was not only in charge of a one hut for the insane but she was also a patient there at the same time before the volcanic eruption. And something about a giant gorilla. So you see she knows both sides of the situation of helping the criminally insane from both sides of the situation. Or did I just say that?

 Anyway, none of you can never say again you never saw a real Viking.  You will notice she is still wearing her straight jacket from her previous engagement.  I believe that speaks for itself.   I hired her on an administrators whim.

 Would you like to say a few words to your staff nurse Werdmeharpgo or something like that. I am told over the phone from the Smithsonian's director oft extinct languages that her language has not been heard on the earth for over 5000 years. A dialect of  modified Loony-Dani. And she should be in a museum."

"Phee Fi Fo Fum." Head nurse Werdmeharpgo mumbled then threw black soot into the air and screamed, as she bit her curled index finger with gusto and made pointed gestures at the assembled group of patients, nurses, the two outside the door armed guards and a discruntled doctor Toot.

 "Thank you nurse Something about Werdherharpwent.  Pleasure to have you aboard."  President Bull Weed still stood over seven feet eight dressed in what can only be described as an Abraham Lincoln outfit sans the top hat and wearing his bright yellow 13 foot long, two hundred and twelve pound pet Python Chester Meinhamn as a necktie. "Don't forget our Limbo party tonight.  I live to Limbo."

"Ditch the band ya ferbonie,"  'The Noggin' knuckle sandwich punches his order into the phone speaker as another ward nurse Feudal along with recently hired Head Psychiatric nurse Werdmeharpgo picks up 'The Noggin' and, using the new 'Goon Therapy' body slams 'The Noggin' onto Myron Insolentt.

"My feet, ya stup--"  Myron Inoslentt screams in foot-pain.  "Get off my feet ya--"

"Well I see you are all busy," President Bull Weed said.  "Just stopped by to thank you Mister 'Noggin' er Fazoo for the new state-of- of -the-art fluoroscopes and newest open-air MRI.  Well Chester and me are off to... ah, gee I forgot.  Where are we off to Chester?" President Bull Weed asked his pet Python as they did The Stroll out of the chaos of  'The Noggin's' rubber padded room.

One could barely hear the President chatter away as they continued The Stroll down the darkened hallway.  "I think you're wrong Chester. 'The Noggin' doesn't look like Fearless Fosdick's arch enemy 'Bombface'...at all,  Perhaps if he had that fuse protruding out of the top of his head... Do you hear metal garbage cans clanging?" Then a choking sound.  "Stop it Chester I can't bre..."  Then gurgles,"I order you Manheimn you schweinhund  stop I...can't bre..."

"'A band," Goombah Wong yelled into the phone.  "Ya want me to hire a band?  Are you doin' The Stroll Noggin?' I hear The Stroll music.  Ah, that brings back monkey memories..."

'The Noggin' reaches for the phone as floor nurse Feudal prepares  to perform a floor nurse 'Flyin' Pancake' wrestling move only floor nurses can do with perfection as she builds up her. 'Fajing' wild nurse animal response.  "Ditch the band ya ferbonie, 'The Noggin' hysterically bellows into the receiver.  "Magie and Ptah are bound to pickup on a band following them ya ferbonie.  Ditch the band.  What ferbonie told ya...  Hey Feudal get ya size 15 canal boat feet out a my face ya ferbonie.
...to hire a band ya ferbonie."

"Okay 'Noggin, I'll find a band but... but where am I gonna get a canal boat?  I ain't hearin' ya too well, the Oddvarks conventioneers are shouting 'Death-to... someone?  I guess you know what you're doin' 'Noggin' but we is gonna be awful con... er, con... constipated-uous following Magie and that idiot Ptah with a band and a canal boat. But I always said 'The ways of 'The Noggin' are not known to us mere mortals or to be questioned.  'Noggin?'  'Noggin'  what's all that screamin?'  "You there Noggin?"  Hello.  Helloo...  Hey 'Noggin' some jerk is painting graffiti on me  Get that paint bruff adda ma blouth--"
***

JOURNAL ENTRY;

Wednesday
01 June 1994
8:53PM

Tocumen Airport Arrival approaching Hallway to exit.
Panama City Panama.  Can feel the 92 degree heat and humidity trying to force its way in.  The Boobie Brothers following the scent of potential victims.

'Thoughts about Halloween.'

"Hey Hatch," Trap Boobie snickers as they move along the long, wide arrival hall trying to stay in any shadows as the ceiling lights threw off a tired glare helping the Boobies to be almost absorbed by various potted plants, then the Marimba band motorized float that's laying down a destroyer's type smokescreen of burning an leaking excessive amount of slippery motor oil, and having braking problems, and then the Boobies continued  mingling with other passengers. "The Yanks are coming."

"Where?" Hatch Boobie snorts.

"Over there, over there," Prize Boobie responds in a singing tone.  "Over there, The Yanks are coming and they won't be back until 'it's' over, over ther--"

Prize Boobie was stopped by a powerful blow on the top of his bean by Hatch Boobie.  "Shut up ya moron."

The Boobies are dressed in traditional beige mushroom hats worn by a particular sect of unbalanced tribes in Pakistan called the  Bam Bam for the Taliban.  Long black robes, matched their dyed Hitler type mustaches and unruly short beards.  There foot attire was original pea soup colored Yenta Yoiks bathhouse sandals with customized painted-on flames spouting almost  like wings from the sides of the size 18 sandals.  "Me and Prize just came up with a great idea for Halloween but we got a problem."

"Don't bother me Trap, I'm in my hunting mode."  Hatch lets out the muffled cry of a leopard in pain.

"Listen Hatch," Prize Boobie whispers, trying to uncross his eyes while rubbing his head, whispers like a ballroom dance swish.  "Me and Trap are going to dress up like the 'Three Tons of Fun' for Halloween, but we can't figure out how many of us it takes to dress up like that."

"Look you morons did not you guys learn anything in school?  Weimar Republic New Math Cracked Strudel-Core Curriculum states the answer to any arithmetic problem is always five hundred and seventeen.   Now don't bother me with that. We got a job to do here."

JOURNAL ENTRY:

Wednesday
01 June 1994
8:55PM

Tocumen International Airport,
Terminal Area heading to far exit corridor
Panama City, Panama.

'You must have said something...?'

"What going on?" Magie nudged Steve.

"He says he's a happy shrimp.  Wants to sell us a kitchen sink."  Then turning to Forest Green said,
"What? Do I have a sign on my back attracting happy nitwits you--"

"I'm not happy.  In fact I'm unhappy you... I'm a gay kitchen sink seller," Forest Green mumbles now in a Spanish accent. "And,  I'm a shrimper not a shrimp, I'm over five feet seven give or take a few incheros, Yanqee Chow Chow."

"Chow chow...? You can't be gay and unhappy at the same time," Steve said, still walking as he and Magie carry a flight bag apiece. Magie's flight bag is wine colored with two silver lightning strikes on each side designed by 'The Marginally  Tolerated Professional Sissy,' Marcus Malice   Steve's flight bag is stealth grey with what looked like several bullet holes and a dull machete slash designed by Bargan Bernnies House of Junk.

"Is this beautiful senora the little woman?  you look like you would be interested in a kitchen sink senora." Forest Green whispers in a heavy Portuguese accent.

"It's senorita," Magie countermanded.

"Ah good.  I was worried for a moment.

"What happen to your Spanish accent?" Steve growls under his breath.  "Or your Cuna--"

"Steve, stop that," Magie sweet snarls in the honey drip voice with a French accent.  "I might be interested in a fregadero--"

"What?" Steve chokes his word out.  "Magie, we're on a miss-- I mean in a dance competition.  I'm not gonna lug a kitchen sink around.  This twerp can't even make up his mind if he's happy or unhappy... What am I talkin' about?"

"I have no idea," Magie said. "but after The Tongan I had to not only replace my window and part of my wall but 'It' damaged some of the plumbing jarring my kitchen sink and I never liked that cheap replacement you got me."

"Cheap replacement," Steve challenged as they stopped walking.  "After that short cut of yours I hardly had any money left when they pulled my classic Road Runner out of that snow filled attic."

"I believe you had the bill sent to me," Magie stated, stamping her foot.  "Which reminds me you owe--"

"Oh... yeah ... I forgot about that but a kitchen sink--"

Forest Green signals to several of his friends attired in similar prison clothes, by taking off his Sombrero and yelling 'Yiii Carumba'  to wheel a large heavy wooden crate resting on a squeaky crate mover over to them while singing loudly, 'The Shrimp Boats are Comin' They're Sails Are In Sight' as the motorized Marimba band shot by  knocking over several passengers who stopped to goggle-eye at Forest Green now twirling his huge red sombrero.

 On top of the wooden crate were four huge100 pounds sacks of ripped spoiled shrimp leaving a trail  of slippery crustaceans mixing with motor oil. The wheels of the crate mover begin to protest loudly as they lumbered across the now frictionless brown marble floor causing the rushing crowed and a few well armed police persons dressed in ominous black to take notice. "Here, we will open the top of the crate so you can see the style and color."

"No,"  Steve commands.

"Steve," Magie said in that voice that drives men to come too close to the rocky shore as she countermands Steve's order.  "Panama City, Panama is the kitchen sink capital of the world just like 'The Big C' is the capital for spats and buggy whips and.... It's like being home."

Steve starts to say something but thinks better of it, leaving him with that bewildered just been hit with a flyin' industrial sized mallet look splashed over his mug.

As the rejected ripped shrimp sacks are flung aside and the  top of the crate is preyed off an intense crowd begins to form. slippin' and slidin.'

"Oh just what I wanted Steve.  The color, octave maroon, will match my decor.  How much?"

"Octave mar--" Steve's sarcasm  was cut off unceremoniously.

"This model sells for over a thousand dollars in the States but you can have it for three hundred dollars American cash.   And, I give Green Stamps with each purchase."  Forest Green announces as he gives a loud 'Yipee Yie Yow' shrimper shout and a jump for kitchen sink joy.  He hurls his giant sombrero on the crowded tile floor as he and his cohorts attempt do the Panamanian Hat dance around it on the now traction-less floor.  Similar to the Mexican Hat dance but with much more violence, falling and screaming hysterically.

"Green Stamps too Steve," Magie sang.  "Just like the  'The Big C' gives stamps for our war rations booklets.  "Steve , it's like we never left 'The Big C.' "

"What's is happening here?"  One of now a dozen police and armed soldiers, slip-slidin' on pieces of rejected shrimp turning the terminal floor into an ice skating rink, asked as camera lights begin to flash, passengers starting to slide into each other and horrendous, shrimp throwing and wrestling scuffles occur.

Somehow the word got out that the beautiful movie actress Carmen Meranda was giving away free shrimp to promote her next movie, 'Cow-Eyed Shrimp men are a Comin'.'  Pure, unadulterated Mort Plopp pandemonium ensued. A large charter group of New Age Shift Changers just entering the terminal tried to shift-change themselves into grotesque medieval gargoyle  statues but couldn't make the transition in time and were trampled by berserk Carmen Meranda fans and kitchen sink aficionados.  As the evening wore on it galloped amok.

"Hey Senor, a man fights his way through the melee.  "I got a Icebox the little senorita will just love.  Just a hundred bucks American. Okay, Pancho wheel it over here.  Okay Cisco I'm coming."  Unfortunately the heavy 1930 Icebox somehow still containing a 50 pound block of original un-melted 1930 ice  in it tips over and becomes a sliding unmanned projectile  knocking people  over as it slams into the sink crate.  "Oh Pancho."  "Oh Cisco."

"I must examine that icebox ice core for the presence of only1930 pollutants,"  Make believe scientist Doctor Warpo Repulso skate-runs on the greased terminal floor in pursuit of the icebox now turned lethal weapon.  Unfortunately make believe scientist Doctor Warpo Repulso himself turns into a lethal weapon on the shrimp-grease covered floor as he shoots past the speeding icebox like a berserk missile interceptor into a lost world of utter pandemonium.

More whistle blowing police arrive, a man dressed in a heavy brown winter overcoat and sporting an 'Elmer Fudd' hunting hat with the name 'Donald' imprinted in white letters on the front screams, "My ducks.  Where are my prized Pavlovian ducks?" Then slides out towards the exit hallway leading to the outside curb empty handed. A little bunny scurried after him just barley avoiding being stepped on by the celebrity enraged mob.

The mobile Marimba band float, now unable to be controlled caused the Marimba band leader to give the order to 'abandon float.' Marimba players in an orderly well mannered procession ejected themselves from the float,  The zigzagging pilotless piece of deranged machinery now searched for a new target on the terminal floor.

As Magie and Steve are driven away in the back of a non-air-conditioned 1994 black and white Yugo police car in handcuffs a crowd outside the terminal exit explodes after the police car with many signs stating 'Welcome To Panama  City Steve and Magie World Champion Merenge Dancers' and 'The New Beloved Fuhrer Is Just Staying Long Enough To Take A Bath.'.  There was also a counter protester sign stating, 'MY SHOES ARE SO TIGHT I HAD TO WEAR THEM A DOZEN TIMES BEFORE I COULD GET THEM ON. DO NOT BUY YOUR SHOES AT DRENAJE'S SHOE STORE.' The dancing mob blowing bugles, beating drums and yelling Steve and Magie's names into electronic loudspeakers and hurling spoiled shrimp into the night air follow in bizarre flash dance mob style.

"What did you say?" Magie asked Steve in a menacing sweet low voice that would make 'The Four Horsemen of the Apocolypse' shutter.  "You must have said something."
***

JOURNAL ENTRY:

Thursday
02 June 1994
10:00AM

Molly's Irish Tavern
Icelickers Mall
'The Big C' New York.

'Goombah Express Mail.*  So fast it gets there before it arrives.'

"Get this out right away Acid," Molly yelled to roller skating waitress Acid Burns, 'The Big C' Air Raid Warden who believes she is an ancient Peacock over the din of the crowd.

 Molly's  rebuilt Tavern, with her now sweeping panoramic front window view of the parking lot, route 7, two medium size fuel storage silos and the railroad tracks where Reentry was last seen flying over after the last explosion, is alive with the usual locals. No Zoot Suits today because it's Black Bottom Dance Revue held every June 2nd always a week before the 'Idiots Ball' one of Molly's most heavily attended functions. When some pathetic poor soul nut Bill Crumish is always proclaimed 'The King of the Idiots'  Then back to the Zoot Suits farrago.

  Everyone is arriving early as today Molly is making 'Bathtub Gin' and sitting next to her new huge panoramic picture window and on her brand new Verwundet Grand Piano  next to the bathtub full of gin as Ace Blindfolded Chef Carnarge pours another jug of bubbling white foam liquid into the tub causing the carbon monoxide alarms to go off.  Little attention is paid by the swarms of patrons as the carbon monoxide alarm is a usual occurrence at Molly's.

"What in Molly's parachute size bloomers did I just pour in there?"  The Blindfolded Ace Chef Carnarge mumbles to himself as he finds it difficult to breathe.

The dress today for Molly's patrons 'reflected the mood of dress after the War to end all wars still being celebrated in 'The Big C.'  The men wore raccoon coats. knickers with golf sox, balloon pants known as Oxford bags because of their British origins, loud blazers and sweaters.  Women expressed their dress with flat chests, short skirts or low-waist dresses, petite tight hats over bobbed hair and silk stockings rolled below their knees.'*  A mysterious beautiful person was at the door enforcing dress code with brass knuckles and a blackjack called R. Clement.*  The unknown beautiful  stranger always appeared on this date at Molly's Black Bottom Dance all day & all night revue.

"It's that report," Molly coughs holding a paper bag to her nose and mouth to help her breathe.  "that half-baked lunatic Goombah Wong prepared this spring on doctor Magie Carousel and her dimwit partner Steve Ptah is... I never got a chance ta look at so just send it as is to Panama City Panama, Goombah Express* so it gets their before it arrives .  It's expensive but The Leprechaun and the IRA council will be impressed with me. The addressee info is all on the package."  Acid gives out with a postal tough guy peacock cry of 'Get out a my conga line ya..."

 Molly,' discards the now disintegrating paper bag, as she samples the bathtub gin leaning over the piano and swishes her glass with a swinging elephant trunk movement scooping up a glass of the festering and something that resembles parasitic bluish white lice  homemade gin.  After swallowing the gin in one huge gulp her facial skin begins to break out with severe acne.  "Not strong enough Carnarge ya miserable... a touch more kerosene. Molly flings her empty glass against the far wall.  Upon impact it explodes like a miniature shaped-charge  causing a hole in the new tranny restroom knocking the sign off the door which stated 'RADIOS VERBOTEN IN THE TRANNY.' The two other restroom marked Sheiks and Shebas  for Black Bottom day only sustained minimum damage.

And then a rousing cheer goes up as Howdy Doody's picture (Molly's Hero) is unveiled by Molly herself, and before she slides off the piano into the bathtub of foaming silver-gray gin, she shows a picture of Mister Bluster, Howdy's sometime nemesis and the locals boo as they scream hysterically, Howdy, Howdy, Howdy. A few anti Howdy protestors show their displeasure by countering with signed 8 by 11 glossies of Rootie Kazotie and his dog Galapuchi Pup but were soon beaten into submission by a cadre of mounted  broomstick rider old timers who claim to be survivors of the 7th Calvary.

 No Kookla, Fran and Olie or Time for Beany and Cecil the Sea Sick Sea Serpent, or even DuPont's Magic Cottage supporters dare to counter with their Heroes although a "The Magic Cottage'  picture was tolerated as was a signed picture of Herb Sheldon showing children how to break bread at lunchtime. Not realizing what happened to her Molly is hoisted out of the gin by her petard of numerous weightlifting bodyguards she hired from the West  African Wolf tribe known for their strength and intelligence and she begins to sing  'Minnie the Mermaid' in high Gaelic.

A few bodies, as usual, were strewn about of unconscious Clod dancers that were swamped in the morning mass of humanity and errant mimes that insist on sneaking into Molly's like mice trying to disguise themselves as sparrows in a kindle of hungry male kitty-cats.

"How do ya like my wistful torch singer fire red long side-slit dress outfit?" Molly, her gown now wet and slimy, asked the crowd who just finished throwing a barrage of clocks and time pieces at Karaoke singer  Sung Tuu when he asked his trademark inane question 'Hey kids what time is it?'  Molly started to hear a deluge of 'honks' from the ever mauling crowd.

"Ya miserable skunk smellin' Edgar Allen Poe creatures. I know what ya 'honkin' means" as she reaches for her unborn fawn leather holster and quick-draws her new Chin and Less automatic  bullhorn."

"Everyone do the 'Black Bottom," Molly, yelled through her bullhorn blaster, the high pitch breaking some beer mugs near her. The wet large  bullhorn batteries sending a mild charge through her body momentarily setting her bobbed 1920's hairdo on fire killing any possible lice before going out.

"Now listen Acid, this afternoon I'll get my first load of Wannabe terrorists IRA cahoots from the Four Squares Laundromat in Belfast via  Canada to here.;.  I'm to get them all to Central America by tomorrow to a terrorist camp-jamboree  code named called Yeowser Central.  Now get me the Charter bus schedule for Pomona Kansas right in the heart of Central America."

"What happened to your hair Molly?"  Acid chirps.

"What a ya mean?"

"Er... nothin'. Okay Molly,"  Acid peacock struts in agreement yelling,'  Im carryin' enough peacock gat to blow them away in such small pieces ya won't have to worry about disposin' any of them..  "Ya can't get more Central America than Pomona Kansas unless ya sendin' the pieces ta Wheatfield Indiana."

"What are ya  chirpin' about ya have-baked birdbrain.  We gotta get all these pathetic nitwit screwballs ta Kansas in one piece so they can begin terrorizing Central America.  And get that one nut al-Sahir somethin' into 'It Pays To Be Ignorant' exclusive club that all those Washington politicians belong.

  Goombah Wong, before he left for Florida, got that other nut 'The Noggin' to write a letter to  The President of the Club... what's his name?  Ya know the jerk that's always voted 'King of the Idiots Ball' to recommend that other pea-brain ah... Sahir... Baggy-Pants for membership."

  Molly, takes her favorite black iron 1940's frying pan she always keeps close buy and cold cocks an errant mine that, mimed his way past the beautiful stranger bouncer by pretending to  mime he was leaving by miming he was a breeze but made the mistake of wandering over to the bathtub full of  gin that was now  'geysering' and began miming he was drinking some of the 'not ready yet' bathtub gin as the piano player starts to play one of the 1920's favorites and still on 'The Big C' hit list, 'Playboys & Flappers.

 Acid rapid peacock stampedes through the crowded tavern carrying Goombah Wong's report to be Goombah Expressed* shouting Messerschmitt sighting 'out-a-my-way,'  pepper spraying customers who were not fast enough to get out of her rant-charge,  Molly, sitting on her grand piano that was wedged into the front of her establishment, cold cocks the piano player with her black iron fryin' pan and began singing her torch song 'Minnie the Mermaid'  again now in English when she was hit by a drive by sarcophagus thrown through her new prized  raised sweeping panoramic view picture window.
* Many thanks to R. Clement for all the hard work for the 'Roaring Twenties. Revue'  Kudos.
* Goombah mail is so fast it gets to the intended recipient before it's even mailed. Something
   about postmarks.  Your contact for more info is the Duchess of Sherwood, Hyde Park London, Eno for Upset Stomach soap box on path to boat house.
***

JOURNAL ENTRY:

Friday
03 June 1994
10:33AM

Herr Schutzstaffel Palatial Suite
Private 13th Floor
Caesar Palace hotel
Panama City, Panama.

'Unt child could do it.'

"Ja ja. Where are those dummkopf Boobie Brothers now Stumpfegger?"  A sunglass swastika emblazed  monocle wearing Herr Schutzstaffel snort-strut-paces on his veranda facing the old dock area of Panama City, Panama and then the Atlantic Ocean, as he ducks attacking pigeons and nest building oropendolas who seem to have developed a bird-turd storm of hatred for the new beloved Fuhrer.  Herr Schutzstaffel, his burning eyes fire glare as he occasionally  glances back into his morose cavernous cold black marble floors, a dusty cloud ceiling and gold and silver adorned suite on a background of brimstone colored walls.

"Ja ja dummkopfs do  something about these schweinhund pigeons unt oropendolas."

 He is attired in a white military cap with an emblazoned pure gold deadhead insignia on the front, a white military sports jacket with red black and yellow trim with a small blood and dagger medal over his right button jacket pocket. His  silk white swimming trunks had matching red, yellow and black matching Fuhrer stripes along the sides by Dolph of Argentina und Hohokus. All complemented by Yenta Yoiks jackboot flip-flop sandals  with heel taps.  "It is almost time for mine beloved Fuhrer walk through the swimming pool area so mine minions ist throwing admiring glances at me."

"The Boobie Brothers ist still being in the hospital, mine new beloved Fuhrer," Herr Ludwig Stumpfegger,  said, cocking his fez, physician style. Now known to his cronies as 'Mule Face due to an alleged botched operation he performed on himself at the Deckung Fun House(The only place in the Capital that had unbroken mirrors.  Unfortunately  they were all Fun House mirrors.) just before Berlin fell. Always wearing a red fez, a white dishdasha (a long ankle-length Iraqi nightshirt for street wear) Yenta Yoiks red, black and white hobnail colored sandals with painted all seeing eyes on the sides. "I ist understanding they were attacked by a float containing Marimba  musical entertainers then someone ran them over with a 1930's icebox.  And of course there is their ghastly allergy to shrimp."

Ja ja.  Incroyable. Dummkopfs. The Boobie Brothers are trained assassins that have never ist failing me, the new beloved Fuhrer before.  All I, the new beloved Fuhrer, ist asking  to size this upstart merengue team arriving at the airport unt put a little Beloved Fuhrer scare into the man... this Steve Ptah by breaking his legs.  Unt child could do that. Where ist that blithering head dance team now? Unt those three dummkopfs ist in the hospit--"

"They, the woman and the galootenzie have been just released from jail earlier this morning mein new beloved Fuhrer the Panama City Canal Blast newspaper has arrived," Frau Guntheri Gleeflee, a gray soldiers forest cap over her short brownish gray hair, gray dress and black 1939 schoolteachers shoes, is Herr Schutstaffel hall monitor, and member of the Nazi Dementia Paralytica Club which all Nazis had to swear allegiance said in sandpaper working on rust removal voice and in excited mode as she hands paper to her new beloved Fuhrer.

"Unt  package for you mein new beloved Fuhrer," Frau Commandant Porcha the new beloved Fuhrer's chief Fedayeen bodyguard. She is dressed in tweed riding attire and a pork-pie hat tilted over her right eyebrow and a out-of-place protruding Adams Apple and feet that could stomp two large barrels of grapes at the same time.. Unable to sweat due to a rare medical condition called 'Sweatless Histolytica'  the hot humid air outside does not seem to bother her in her smart tweed wardrobe. But in an air-condition environment she only suffers from occasional lapses of memory and infrequent fainting spells her gruff choking voice reminds one of someone trying to swallow a pomegranate whole while attempting to speak. In fact she looks like a man that is trying to disguise herself as a woman who really wants to look like a man.  "Just arrived by goombah express.  It has been postmarked the day after tomorrow.  Now we ist being able to know all about this fools of World Champion merengue team."

"Herr Schutstaffel Fuhrer rips the paper From Frau Gleefee's hand.  "I ist wanting to be seeing the newspaper first dummkopfs.  Pictures of the woman I must be seeing now."  Ignoring the headlines: 'World Champion Merengue Dancers Arrested at Airport Riot' the new beloved Fuhrer throws papers aside until he comes to the pictures of the horrendous melee.

"Liebchen..."
***


JOURNAL ENTRY:

Friday
03 June 1994
1:00PM

Magie & Steve's Suite
Concierge level 7th Floor
Caesar Palace Hotel
Panama City Panama

'When it's impossible to arrive by stealth arrive in a explosion'

Steve, fresh from the shower, damp hair combed back late 1950's DA style, he is now in cowboy jeans and white tropical Mays Department store shirt not tucked in and shoeless and sockless is leaning on the balcony rail of their seventh floor concierge suite overlooking old Panama City and Panama Bay and the ocean; the midday sun causing the tips of the  turquoise swells to look like millions of candles being lighted and then quickly extinguished.

"What  a you see Magie?  as Steve stares out at the dancing sea.

"God," Magie answers as she moseys on up from behind. "I can never mosey like you Steve.  And you Steve.  What do you see?"

  "Ah, Scotland," Steve sighed audibly as Magie, hair gleaming brunette shorter hair style still wet from her shower and barefoot silently as a leopard walking on sand finishes, still trying to figure out how he hears her nonexistent pratfalls  'ankels'  up beside him in her cotton bathrobe with the words Caesar Palace Hotel on the back. "Ancient home of my ancestors--"

"This is Panama Central America," Magie sighed softly.  "Not Brooklyn. Not Scotland.  Panama City, Panama is one of the almost romantic cities in the world and I'm stuck with an idiot.  How can life get any better? But I have to admit we do need this lead time to acclimatize. This is brutal."

Steve points to a small listening device his miniature detector hidden in his belt buckle which detected listening devices throughout the suite just as their contact Heavy D, Hotel Crises Front Desk Manager, predicted. No video devices were detected.

Magie shakes her head in the affirmative, then said," Let's go back inside before I'm tempted to hurl you off the balcony.  Anyway it's too hot out here even with the awning providing shade."

"Steve responds with a sturdy, "Hoot mom."

" 'Mon' knuckle head, not 'Mom.'  'Hoot mon.' "

Inside and the balcony door closed, with the air conditioned now cooling at 72 degrees, she gives him the all clear signal.  Holding out her right fist then hitting it with her left fist, swings her right arm all the way around in a half circle and slamming Steve on the head as she just shakes her head with a hopeless eye roll.

"Steve, we have to change your signal system," Magie said in a sweet condescending tone.  "I mean it's stupid.  Really stupid."

Steve looked at her questionably like a puppy trying to figure out what the human is talking about.

"That was one blast of an arrival," Magie said in a sugary quiet tone as she fetched the iced honey tea she had brewing. "There's hot coffee if you want some."

"Black like I like it? I thought Forest Green did a fantastic job causing the airport riot," Steve said proudly in a tone whalers would use when they spot the giant mammal surfacing at sea.

"Yeah, the gay shrimper.  I'm glad you briefed me about that before we arrived. And thanks for the lead time letting me know we were going to be arrested before we left the airport.  Were all those nuts from your Cloakroom team?"

"The crazy ones?  Yeah, pretty much, except for the Boobie Brothers and the Carmin Meranda fans and the police, military and the travelling passengers."

"And that mob of nuts outside?  You didn't tell me about them?"

"Oh the PGPO, the Professional Greeters and Protesters Organization.  Didn't I mention them?  Must a forgot.  They're. all unionized.  We were lucky to get them, they're booked well in advanced for State Capitols and DC Greets and Protest.  Uncle Sam flew them down  on a C-130, bet that shook them up, to Ft. Glick a few miles from Tocumen  were we arrived.  Shuttled them over to Tocumen, very discreetly of course, supplied them with signs and more spoiled shrimp.  They should be all back in the States by now."

Magie sighs one of those long never ending sighs.  "Well I'm glad the Embassy got us out of the hoosegow quickly.  And your Hotel Crises  Manager friend, Heavy D, she is so beautiful, got us this lovely suite.  Now I understand your fascination for full figured women."

"Don't start that nonsense again. She  works for JSOA--"

"Joint Special Operation Agency," Magie Interrupted.

 "Yes, and is very valuable to Uncle Sam.  If something happens to me she's your go to person. You have to control your jealously."

"Jealously?    Yeah right,"  Magie laughs softly.  "You really are nuts if you think I could be the
least--"

"Everything in its place?" Steve asked in that low determined voice. "I suppose I have to get my own coffee. On the way to pour his coffee he stops and fumbles a 30 pound sculpture that didn't seem to belong in the Cuna Indian motif of the suite.  What in blazes is this supposed to be?  A fat pretzel? "

"You are a Neanderthal Steve," Magie announced in a soft noncommittal voice. "It's by the famous Malmo Swedish sculpture artist Saint Louie Sal and it's entitled 'Nothing, nothing at all.'

"Saint Louie Sal... hmmm.... aka The Ho-ho-kus Canary no doubt. I seen him/her wrestle under the name the Canarsie  Drill Press...  he... maybe she was great.  Well he, or, she sure as heck accomplished their goal naming this piece of junk." Putting the sculpture down and mumbling something about a 'fat pretzel' and continued to the fairly good size efficiency kitchen counter in an off-room.  Retrieving his steaming black coffee and returning to their shared living room sat down next to Magie on the couch. "Magie tap that pen on the table for  a moment or two."

"Why?" Magie asked in that come hither soft annoyed voice as she complied.

"In case there is a Dictaphone planted in the wall... the continuous tapping will break up any sound waves,  I'm surprised a big brain like you didn't know that."

"No one knows that except a nut in very deep psychological torment.  Besides no one uses a Dictaphone anymore."

"Are you kidding me?  'The Big C' is the home of Dictaphones among other things. Where else in the world can one go to buy a Dictaphones, spats and buggy whips and Philco Radio Tubes in one shopping spree?"

 "You do  realize you're insane,"  Magie sighed   "Now try to concentrate.  The white noise will drowned out any conversation we're having and all any one listening in will hear is hours of distorted Scottish parliamentary political bickering that stops when we leave."

"Like I said,"  Steve said sitting  back on the large, soft spreading Mayan motif couch and reading the Canal Blast newspaper headlines. "back in the 'The Big C' Magie... if it's impossible to arrive by stealth arrive in an explosion."
***

JOURNAL ENTRY:

Friday
03 June 1994
5:18PM

Tocumen International Airport Arrivals lounge, Panama City, Panama.


'Hey you Bozo,  where am I?'

"What happened here?" Goombah Wong said to a mop carrying bald head airport employee who is built like a child's minature knock down clown punching float named Lord Byron guiding a disoriented Goombah Wong and the other arrival passengers through the repair work going on. 

"Don't tell me.  Those freakin' Messerschmidt's are everywhere. Looks like you Pomeranian's got blitzkrieg." Goombah Wong is attired in the same black suit he left 'The Big C'  with but now adorned with a graffiti drawing on it of what looked like Mussolini scratching his head in yellow ink-paint, shinny black patent leather shoes showing drops of yellow paint that look almost like toenails, but not quite, white shirt, black tie and a stylish homburg hat and his mouth painted kind of a sick Oyster white,  black mustache and black horned rim eyeglasses drawn on his face.

"Huh?  Who you callin' a Pomeranian Yanquie swine?" Lord Byron grunts as if he was sucker punched in the breadbasket.

"Hey buddy, you want that homburg blocked?" A heavy breather voice asked from behind some hanging thick plastic sheets the workmen put up. "I got a special on blocking Homburgs today."

"Hey  you Bozo, you got any idea where I am?"

"You playin' me Yanquie?"  Lord Byron asked in a deep freeze tone.  "Why do not you grow your own muff and buy a pair of real glasses and wipe your face off after brushing your tooth  And what is with the suit and fancy yellow toenails on those glossy shoes?

"Ahhhh," Gombah Wong groaned in his 'Big C' goombah twang as his split tongue searched the air for monkey scent.  "I was grafitied, Blivitized by some jerk who mysteriously draws graffiti on blank walls then disappears.  Never mind that baldy, do you know where I am?"

"What happened to your tongue?  Hey.  You are in Central America."

"You mean Kansas? What does it take in this schmuck world to get to the real Panama City?  You sure I ain't back in Florida?"

 "You really don't know where you are?" Lord Byron quizzed.  "What a you Senor, one of those professional highly skilled morons?"

"Alls I know is I'm tryin' to get out a Panama City to fly to Panama City. I didn't want a go to Kansas."

"You are not in Kansas," Lord Byron said in a now sympathetic syrupy manner.  "Is that where the mental hospital you escaped from is?"

"Never mind Bunion.  Is there a--

"Byron not Bunion ya... Lord Byron."

"Look whoever ya wannabe gringo," Goombah Wong doing a shout-out. "Is there a hotel in where ever I am that's named the Caesar Place?"

"You are the one that is a gringo, Yanquiee. You really are a professional moron, no?. Do you mean the Caesar Palace Yanquiee?

"Yea, yea that sounds goombah right.  Ya see any monkeys around here?  Goombah Wong test the air with his split tongue again as he hisses.

"What are you talking about?  Moon keys?  You are on the planet earth.  No moon keys here but we have doctors that keep moon keys in little padded rooms. Perhaps I should make arrang--""

"What a ya blabbin' about?  I'm talkin' about apes... Lowland gorilla spoor."

"Of course you are Yanquiee,' Lord Byron swallowed his words as he backed away now holding his mop like a rifle with a bayonet on it ready for business.

"How do I get there?"

"Where... the moon?"

"What a ya nuts?  You expect me ta believe I'm on the moon?" Goombah Wong said, turning around giving every one the suspicious alien goombah-stare.  "This place don't look like any pictures of the moon I saw.  Look ya bozo I just want ta get ta Caesar's hotel.  Ya know the one he stays at whenever he's in town... what ever this town is.  But first ya know where I can pick up a band, ya goofball?"

"The one Caesar stays at when he is in town?...   Si okay Yanquiee.  And a band.  You mean a rubber band or a musical band?"

"Yeah, 'The Noggin' might a meant a rubber band.  I don't know ya meathead."

"Riiiight."  Lord  Byron spread his word like a baseball player starting his not-allowed slide into first base from home. "Take a taxi at the taxi stand in front of the airport,  Caesar's has a gift shop with lots of rubber bands.  And here is a card with a Marimba band's phone number on it.  They lost their gig last night in the riot. Give them a call, they are looking for work.  I never did like those Marimba showoffs anyway." Lord Byron responds trying to rid himself of the 'goombah effect.'

"Okay, squirt, maybe I'll do both... but if the taxi driver yaps at me that there ain't no Cesar's Place in Kansas City, or tries to yap at me that I'm on the moon I'm comin' back to 'goombarize' ya, ya peeled potato head."

"You are not in Kansas ya... and you senor are not on the moon,,, and it is Caesar 'Palace' not 'Place' ya nasty nutcase."  
***


JOURNAL ENTRY:

Friday
03 June 1994
6:32PM

Herr Schutzstaffel,s
Private 13th Floor Palatial Suite
Caesar Palace Hotel
Panama City, Panama

'Your elephant troubadour's are here....'

"Ja ja I ist must being sure, Stumpfegger," Herr Schutzstaffel ordered in a Gestapo  voice that is telling prisoners  to line up against a wall... any wall.  "Have that dummkopf in charge of my Fedayeen Commando special Fuhrer operations 'finger unit' unt messenger Abu Bakar Bashir bring Magie unt this Steve down mine personal beloved Fuhrer invitation to have repast with me the new beloved Fuhrer in the hotels 'Garden of Uber Intelligence' section at 2200 hours this evening."

"It shall be done mein new beloved Fuhrer immediately if not Fuhrer sooner mein new belov--" Stumpfegger starts to say.

"Ja ja, enough with the beloved ist being already."

 "Unt Abu Bakar Bashir your Fuhrer-messenger ist practicing jumping out of that ancient Arado 96 aircraft un a Rocket Stick so when ist you having your beloved pre-victory party you... mein new beloved Fuhrer Herr Schutzstaffel ist being making one spectacular entrance on your yacht.  Except it will be Bashir eater of Goat Cheese Terrine  traveling at 180 kilometers un hour on his control Rocket Cello Shaped Stick landing on your Fuhrer Yacht The Thirteenth Ordinance behind un curtain where you mein new beloved Fuhrer will be hiding then stepping out from behind the Fuhrer curtain unt everyone on the yacht ist being thinking it ist mein new beloved Fuhrer Herr Schutzstaffel that is riding the Rocket Stick out of the night sky unt you mein new beloved Fuhrer will have your yacht guests Fuhrer- applauding, maybe even burning books in your honor--"

Ja ja, doofus, ist you ever hearing of periods, takinzee a breath.  Ja ja, now  Stumpfeeger mein hideous faced doctor your new beloved Fuhrer- me ist not being hiding butinzee cleverly concealed.  I ist hoping there ist being much fog that night.  That ist being make my fiery entrance even more brilliant.  But the Rocket Stick looks too much like un broom. I ist not being wanted to be mistaken for un witch riding un broomstick.  I ist wanting it to be more cello shaped so everyone ist being seeing I ist having Fuhrer-class."

"Mein new but, dear beloved Fuhrer," Commandant Porcha said before passing out, "we ist have our top rocket scientist, Bach Zelewski working on that problem now.  He ist may being able to makenzie to be being like un cello which will give Bashir... I ist meaning you mein new beloved Fuhrer un better seat on your Rocket ride down to your yacht."  Commandant Porcha collapses as an errant Philly-Loo bird flies into her forehead at ram speed.  As Philly-Loo birds only fly backwards at tremendous speeds ther was no damage to bird.

"Ja ja,' Herr Schutzstaffel decried not paying any attention to what just happened.  "Unt the song that ist being emenated out of the loud speaker on the Rocket Stick as  I, your new beloved Fuhrer spiral down doing acrobatic  flight patterens before I ist landing behind the curtain ist the Horst Wessel song."

"Jawohl mein new beloved Fuhrer," Stumpfegger yells giving the new beloved Fuhrer Curtsey* (See Log One)  salute. It ist being... although that Zelewski ist prefering the music coming from the Rocket-Stick ist being 'The Sleigh Ride' by un Mussorgsky."

"Ja ja unt?"

"I ist shooting him witenzie mein paint gun.  Gotenzie right between the eyes."

"Ja ja, zehr Gut.  Stumpfegger cutenenzee out all that 'enzee' stuff."

"But you ist say... Jawohl mein new beloved Fuhrer."

"Ja ja, remerenzee, we ist being Irisch. Notenzee Schwein Amerikaner."

"Mein new beloved Fuhrer, gut Fuhrer news, Hall monitor Frau Guntheri Gleeflee announces in an abrasive tone that states 'The fat lady' finally sings. "The elephant roaming troubadour's ist being arrived unt waiting for the new beloved Fuhrer's, Fuhrer inspection.  Unt they are trained to sit on the nearest peanut whence they ist hearing the one word command 'Bully' just as you ist having ordered mein new beloved Fuhrer.  They ist on your, the new beloved Fuhrer's yacht moored by the Canal.  All ist being Fuhrer ready for my new beloved Fuhrer's pre-victory party."

"Sehr Gut, I the new beloved Fuhrer ist being to 'wow' mein schwein guest with mein parlor deck tricks. But now I, the new beloved Fuhrer ist having no time for roaming, instrument playing, peanut sitting elephants.  I ist must read this report I received from my IRA contact in 'The Big C' has sent me, the new beloved Fuhrer on the activities of Steve Ptah unt Magie Carousel.  I must be Fuhrer prepared when I ist meet them tonight for my Fuhrer repast unt to see un Fuhrer person if this Magie Carousel ist un reality mein Liebchen Manja Be--  Fuhrer yikes... Was ist dies?"
***

JOURNAL ENTRY:

Friday
03 June 1994
7:38PM

Caesar Palace Hotel
Convention guest 2rd Floor
Goombah Wong's
Room 212 Chiller Room
Panama City, Panama

Electronic Intercept U.S. Army Base Fort Yuma Arizona by NSA P-145 between Goombah Wong Caesar Palace Hotel guests room 212 (called 'the chiller room' because the air condition is always stuck on high. For some reason no human has been able to fix it.)  Panama City Panama and Sir Doodoo 'The Noggin' Fazoo at the Private Emergency Receiving Hospital, 'The Big C' Upstate New York

'Send me my winter duds...'

"Let me yap with 'The Noggin' ya pea brain,' Goombah Wong demands of Nurse Tight, who is sitting back on a chair in 'The Noggin's and Myron Insolentt's private secure hospital room A-1 on the West Wing.  An out of breath Nurse Tight is trying to get a white nylon stocking off her head as she examines her haul of Pall Mall cigarette cartons.  The police and animal protection units are scouring the darkened floor unable to find a functioning light switch.  No official seemed to notice the several broken baseball bats strewn about. Or even head psychiatric nurse Wander Werdmeharpgo brewing a cauldron of bubbling liquid and mumbling unfamiliar sounds on a large hot plate; nurse Feudal showed her how the hot plate worked. Head psychiatric nurse Werdmeharptgo, fascinated by the heat of the invisible fire spit at the hot plate and howled some terrifying howls as she pounded a seemingly satanic drumbeat on the black tile floor with painted phosphorus footprints  on it that could only belong to an inebriated giant Yeti with fallen arches.

" 'The Noggin' has retired for the night." Nurse Tight speaking into the receiver in a ruffled tone as she tries to remove the clinging stubborn nylon from her mangled barbwire hair. "He's been sedated.  Mister Fazoo will be out until late tomorrow morning."

"Hey nourse lady," A deliveryman, Dil Picilo, constantly sneezing thunderous, time consuming buildup  sneezes,  in bib overalls, knee length rubber boots and a straw hat wheels in soda machine.  His low brogue was reminiscent of someone trying to fake a  Grand Army Plaza Brooklyn accent.

"Who?  I ain't wantin' to yap with a Wazoo ya moron. I wanta yap with 'The Noggin.' "

"No.  You have the wrong floor."  Nurse Tight yells at Dil while attempting to cover the cartons of Pall Mall ciggies.  'Look idiot, I'm telling you Mister Doo Doo Fazoo is incapacitated. He's out cold.  He's non compis mentis."

"Okay nourse, I'll just leave the soda machine by these two schmucks with lumps on their head strapped in their beds"

"Look  ya doofus, I ain't knowin' any a these saps ya yappin' about.  Let me yap with someone that yaps English.  How about that ham-bone Insolentt?  Myron Insolentt and God Bless You."

"I'm not sneezing you idiot it's... never mind. Look Mister Wong or whoever you are, Mister Insolent has also been sedated for the night.  Would you care to leave a message?  Will somebody find where those two armed guards went.  I got a nut on the phone.  And will you stop sneez--""

"Morning Street Pizza delivery,' A  man wearing sandals a paper hat in the shape of a medieval helmet and dressed in shorts and a T-shirt with a calliope piazza (pizza) being twirled by a guy in a sinking gondola yells in a 'Yumpin' Yimminy' tone.  "Which one of you eraser heads ordered a dozen of our famous Morning Street calliope pizzas?"

"Take them to the rec room," Nurse Tight yells still attempting to spread herself over her hot cartons of Pall Malls.  "Two floor below."

"Okay, I'll just leave them outside this door in the hallway. We put it on ya tab.  This place gives me the 'Herbie Werbies.'  Why is it so dark in here?  Some weirdo experiments.  Don't tell.  I wanna know nothin'."

"Okay, must be a full moon back in 'The Big C' nut bin.  Okay what's the message you want ta leave with me?" Goombah Wong asked.

"I don't want to leave a message with you.  How stupid can you be?" Nurse Tight  demanded to know, her voice like she was biting on a bullet."

"How stupid can I be?  Look ya slug. I ain't reached my full potential yet but I see ya have."

"I'm recording, Mister Wong."

  "Whose this Mr. Wong ya?... Tell 'The Noggin' when he gets un-capitulated that Goombah Wong is in room 212 at Caesar's place, the only room they had left, and I'm freezin'.  Send me my winter duds it's 20 below in this icebox.  I ain't knowin' if ya wanted ta get rubber bands ta follow Magie and her idiot sidekick or a music band so I got both.  I hired a Marimba band but they had trouble puttin' wheels on somethn' called a xylophone and hired some dock workers to carry it around when the blockheads is playin' it.

So I'm all set ta follow Magie and the boob.  I'll let ya know as goombah soon as I can when ya sweetie makin' contact with ya roller derby team as soon as Magie and Ptah stop anyplace where they have  a goombah phone.  I just gotta figure if I'm in Kansas?  Some potato head tried to tell me I'm on the moon.  'Noggin' I gotta slap leather I'm gettin' the scent of a troop a baboons just--"

"Stop,  I can't take it ya..." Nurse Tight screamed violently her voice like a file cutting metal bars as she drops the phone to the floor and lights up a Pall Mall to relax her first draw causing the padded room ceiling water sprinklers to burst forth and fire alarms to belch a roar as a long yellow python begins to wrap its sinuous body around the leg of the chair Nurse Tight was collapsed in, gibbering unintelligible maniacal  babble about doctor Toot being her fence and Chester Manheim begins its slow crawl up Nurse Tight's left leg.

"Yuel never take me alive ya flat footsies," Doctor Toot yodeled in the rainstorm of fire sprinklers as he skidded  by the open door of 'The Noggin's' padded room, shooting toward that always unseen staircase aided by a dozen Morning Street calliope water soaked pizzas, his secret Beijing identity revealed by Nurse Feudal. "My disguise is foolproof ya American swine," Doctor Toot's yodeling fading away as he trips over a horizontally prone Bull Weed, nut ward administrator, Bon Vivant and all around the Town doofus. Both now moving horizontally at ram speed toward that always darkened staircase and oblivion. 

"Disguise?  Ya want me ta wear a disguise?  Is that you 'Noggin' yodeling? Ya want me ta disguise myself as an American swine.  Hello, 'Noggin' is that ya?  Hellooo, anybody there?  Helloooooo"
***


JOURNAL ENTRY

Friday
03 June 1994
7:45PM

Caesar Palace Hotel
Steve and Magie's Suite
Room 717 Concierge level
Panama City, Panama


'Maybe he was on stilts...'

Their spacious suite has one main living area, two bedrooms, on opposite sides of the living room each with private bath, a large efficiency kitchen and of course that balcony with a view of old Panama, Panama Bay and the Atlantic ocean.

"Steve where did you go sneaking out like that?"Magie  queried with annoyance.

"A little extra psychological warfare insurance Magie.  I sneaked up to the 13th Palatial floor through the locked stairway rang Herr Schutzstaffel's doorbell  and ran before anyone could answer.  That'll unsettle him."

"I don't know what's worse," Magie moaned in a French accent.  "You being stupid or just insane.  Why didn't you tell me you were leaving for a moment to do that?"

"Well, I thought you might think I was insane or just stupid.  But that's not all.  I stuck this pin sized transmitter near the door bell and by just pressing the button on  this garage opener I got I brought with me we can ring his doorbell any time.  Cool, no."

"When...if we get back to 'The Big C' I want you to promise you will start seeing my psychogonist,  Doctor Ba'ath House Dipp,"

"As soon as they release her from the nut house I'll be first in line to fight for her recommitment. I promise Magie."

"Swine."

 " Now I want to go over this once more,"Steve said, in a low almost guttural tone, attired in a gray T-shirt with sporting a picture of one of his few friends 'Mighty Mouse, over the caption 'Relax guy's I'm here to save the day,' jeans and lite white socks, clothes designed by his hamper, his blackish silver-gray hair combed back DA style, as Magie sipped from a glass of bottled water.  Dressed in lite sandy slacks a white blouse and barefoot she sat back on the couch.  Her clothes designed by Deefen Dockers, for women who like to civilize their surrounds.

"I know,' Magie whispered nonchalantly into her glass.  "We've gone over this a thousand times.  We are here to infiltrate the target and decide if he is Bormann or a nut that thinks he's Bormann.  Interact with target and 3rd parties.  Initiate and direct conversations to further our objective--"

"And Foxley 2 has been reactivated.  Kill Bormann. If he is Bormann he is a goose stepping horror story."

"The part that I object to is even if we can't decide he is the real Bormann or the ersatz Bormann we kill him anyway."  Magie said in a hard tone, any softness in her voice gone. "I mean if he's the real criminal lunatic Bormann that tortured and murdered all those poor souls well...  but if we can't be sure.  I don't want to kill anybody.  I pray the decision will be taken out of our hands."

"I know," Steve said, his voice sounding like a boulder being smashed by a sledgehammer. "but you know what we talked about the idea that would destroy him with out killing him. Or, turn himself against himself.  Just keep your eyes open for an opening and--."

A knock on the door interrupts  their confab.  "I'll get it," Magie announced, moving as fast and silently as a hunting jaguar.

"Find out who it is before ya fling the door wide open,"  Steve's voice peppered with frustration as he leaped to the other side of the door.  Magie giving him one of her 'relax Lone Ranger' looks.

"It is I Abu Bakar Bashir eater of Goat Cheese Terrine," came a high pitched voice barely heard through the thick hardwood door with Mayan Indian artifacts carved in it some protruding dangerously out of the hall facing Mahogany door. " I bring you Grub Deckung."

"Grub? Goat Cheese? We didn't order any room service Steve mouth whispered to Magie.

"It's German for 'Greetings Take cover'  moron."  Magie gave Steve a quizzical glance. "Did you order Goat Cheese?"

"Goat Cheese?  Yukster." Steve just shrugged with that 'I forgot if I tied my shoelaces' look.  "I guess it replaces the old Heil Dolph salute?"

"Of course you remember me." Abu Bakar Bashir's voice sissified as it tried to squeeze through the heavy wooden door with all those Mayan faces with protruding tongues carved into the mahogany.

"Look through the peep hole," Steve chattered like a stuttering Magpie.

"Will you please top giving orders.  Remember I'm in charge."  Magie's tone was that of a drill sergeant dressing down a recruit.

"Yeah, but I'm the boss," Steve pounded back or is it visa versa?'

Magie held up a small hand mirror that was on a entrance table Steve had placed there earlier.  This way she could look through the peephole at the reflection on the mirror in case the visitor on the other side had a small caliber pistol to fire into the eye of someone on the inside looking into the peephole.  Standard operating procedure in Steve and Magie's world.

"Who?"  Magie asked  Then looking at Steve opposite her whispered,  "It's some guy with a, a white beard--"

"If you say Santa Clause I'm gonna have your psychogonosist Tutel doctor Ba'athhouse Dipp arrested for--"

"Will you shut up... thick glasses a white Philip Morris bellboy cap and looks like he's wrapped in a white sheet."

"We don't smoke," Steve said in his most annoying tough guy voice.

"It is I, the notorious but famous Abu Bakar Bashir eater of Goat Cheese Terrine, you have heard of me of course, we have met in Vienna at the University--"

"I never been to Vienna... moron," Magie's tone was soft but condemning.

"Of course you have,"  Abu Bakar Bashir vollied  back bowing graciously and cracking his head on the thick hardwood door rendering  himself unconscious.

"What's going on?" Steve demanded.  "All you had to do is answer a door."

"He vanished," Magie said her tone slightly startled but still keeping her presence of command.  "As he disappeared I hear a hard knock on the door."

"Maybe he was on stilts and --" Steve started say in a whisper that showed controlled panic."

"Stilts," Magie questioned showing her tolerance for stupidity was growing short.  "Get control of yourself.  If we have this much trouble answering a door how are we ever... Forget it."

Magie slowly opened the door with Steve on her tail marginally pushing Magie a head of him.  "He's unconscious Steve."

"Who?" Steve whispers.  Magie couldn't tell by his tone if he was being sarcastic or been chewing on loco weed again.

"Who? Steve, don't make me hurt you."

"Why'd you knock him out?  Steve asked his demeanor now relaxed.

"How could I have hit him through a closed door." Magie said harshly.  "Besides, if I touched someone there would be no mark. Look at that growing red knob on his bean.  Now I'm starting to talk like you.  That darn osmosis.   What's this?"

"Maybe he found the way you answer a door slumbering and he fell a sleep?  That could account for that mysterious knock on the door as he dozed off."

"You should have been a detective Steve."

 "When were you in Vienna?"

"Steve... my last warning. Don't make me hurt you," Magie said reading the  invitation she took from Abu's clutched fist.  "It's an invitation from your buddy Herr Schutszaffel for dinner tonight at 2200 at the hotel's restaurant Garden of Uber Intelligence. That could be a problem for you Steve... Steve what are you doing?"

I'm writing a note of our acceptance... here stick it in his clutched fist," Steve snapped as he picked up the phone to call room service to have Abu's still unconscious body returned to the Palatial Suite level."

"Shouldn't we at least bring him in our suite?"  Magie asked in her soft caring voice.

"Naw, he'll be fine.  Besides this guy looks like he likes to lurk in the halls of hotel hallways.  Did you say something about a problem with dinner?""

"Steve,"  Magie's tone was soft ,sympathetic and hopeless.  "according to the hotel's restaurant guide I read that section is only opened to very Intelligent individuals. You have to pass an extremely difficult one question test to be seated there.  I mean that section discriminates against you... er, no offense intended."

"Huh?" Steve asked, a bewildered look on his face as if he just received a knockout left hook from Ingemar Johansson.  "I don't understand?"
***

JOURNAL ENTRY:

Friday
03 June 1994
8:41PM

Caesar Palace Hotel
Herr Schutzstaffel's
Private 13th Floor Palatial Suite
Panama City Panama

'Takenzie it to the Panama City Simian Research Center to being translated by that dummkopf ape they ist having there.'

"Ja ja, I, the new beloved Fuhrer ist not making any sense out of this dummkopf five month report on this Magie unt Steve background that blunder-head IRA they ist calling the Cockatrice  er,   Molly back in 'The Big C' ist sending me. Ist you making any Fuhrer-sense out of this?  Who ist ringing the doorbell?""

Stumpfegger, adjusts his fez linguistic style. "Nein, mine new beloved Fuhrer. It is being obviously written by un idiot perhaps un monkey.  To me it ist looking like monkey scribble  some dummkopf  ist taking pictures of  writing  on the sides of... of cows...Holstein cows."

"Ja ja, Stumpfegger.  Cows?  Monkeys?  Who ist ever putting this report together ist being un Fuhrer moron.  Unt this Molly must be un Ober-Fuhrer nincompoop for sending this gibberish  to me the new beloved Fuhrer."

"Perhaps it ist being in code mein new beloved Fuhrer," Commandant Porcha said in a powerful Gestapo  pomegranate swallowing hole wave crashing voice."

"Ja ja.  Takenzie it immediately to the Panama City Simian Research Center.  They is having un ape that knows over a thousand words unt can finger Sprechen. Fuhrer see if that stupid ape can make anything out of this monkey droppings gibberish.  Unt find out who ist ringing that schweinhund doorbell."

"It is being sehr gut you had that Fuhrer moron Molly assassinated by  being Fuhrer hit on the head with that mummy case you sent Reverse Goombah Mail," Commandant Frau Porcha gasped before fainting.

"Ja ja, now no one can link the new beloved Fuhrer me, to that IRA hysterical nut-job Molly the Cockatrice.  Death by sarcophagus thrown through this bubble head  Molly's Irish tavern picture window, but it ist not being Fuhrer confirmed yet by the mouse we have in 'The Big C.'   Until then your new beloved Fuhrer me ist considering it being un open question."

"That ist why you  ist being the new beloved Fuhrer, Danke mine new beloved Fuhrer Herr Schutzstaffel." Stumfegger said turning his Fez assassin style.

"Ja ja," Herr Schutzstaffel grunts picking up his black pearl handled face mirror and kissy-poos himself.

"Mine new beloved Fuhrer," Hall Monitor Guntheri Gleeflee announces, "the head of your Fedayeen Commandos Bashir eater of Goat Cheese Terrine has returned... er, a... unconscious."

"Ja ja... unconscious... this ist being Fuhrer unconscionable.  I ist not giving that dummkopf Fuhrer permission to be unconscious."

"The bat boys brought Abu Bakar Bashir up from--"

"Ja ja. Bell boys you dummkopf Gleeflee. Un mistake like that ist being may be destroying mein new beloved Fuhrer cover.  Some dummkopf may ist being 'pinking up I, the new beloved Fuhrer ist not being un Amerucan with having un Irish brogue, dummkopf.  Now you ist being continue."

 "I ist Fuhrer apologizing mein beloved Fuhrer.  "Bell boys ist brought Abu being unconscious from the concierge level, mine new beloved Fuhrer.  He ist laying in the side hall parlor with un nasty Fuhrer Boo Boo on his forehead..  This ist being clutched in his hand."  handing  the note to Herr Schutzstaffel.

"Ja ja, this ist being un acceptance to me the new beloved Fuhrer's dinner invitation for tonight. 'Thank you for your gracious diner invitation for tonight.  Looking forward to meeting you in person.'  Steve unt Magies, world champion merengue dancers.'  This ist being outrageous.  I the new beloved Fuhrer ist being the worlds champion dancer.  Upstarts.  I shall Fuhrer crush them.  Will someone answer the door you dummmkops."

"Buten mein new beloved Fuhrer," Frau Guntheri Gleeflee muses, in a terrified tone, "There ist being no one there. I Ist suspecting ghosts."

"Ja ja, ghosts dummkopf  Gleeflee.  Mein Fuhrer security ist being penetrated.  Get Commandant Porcha."

"I ist Fuhrer mistaken about the possibility of these two idiot dancers here to exercising Foxly2  the killing of you Herr Bormann... Oops.  I ist meaning of your mein  new beloved Fuhrer.  This ist being unt very unprofessional move."  Commandant Frau Porcha mumbled as she is pulling  herself up from her fainting spell and grabbing on to the couch arm.  "Someone ist being at the door."

"Ja ja, I ist Fuhrer agreeing.  No one ist being in their right  mind, beating mine delivery person to unconsciousness then ist accepting mine Fuhrer invitation...but no harm ist coming to mein possible Liebchen.  Raise the temperature to slight defrost un mein goosestep Fuhrer freezer unt be ist placing the Tongan un mein Fuhrer-holding deck.  I your new beloved Fuhrer may ist being needing   the Tongan' at un Fuhrers-notice."

"Un Fuhrer- notice," Hall Monitor Gleeflee snapped.  "That ist being faster than un Fuhrer min--"

"Ja ja, should you not be guarding mein, the new beloved Fuhrere's hallway dummkopf.  Some idiot keeps ringing mein doorbell unt then hastens away. What ist this Fuhrer security I ist having?"
***

JOURNAL ENTRY:

Friday
03 June 1994
8:47PM

Caesar Palace Hotel
Main Lobby area and Refreshment Center
Panama City, Panama

'Squeeze.'

"Ohhhh, Mister Wong... Mister Wong," 3rd assistant manager Jose Aiiie, whisper-shouts as Goombah Wong maneuver's through the crowded lobby, carrying large open packages of rubber bands leaving a trail even a blindfolded Hansel and Gretel couldn't miss and disguised as an American swine fencing instructor being followed by a 5 piece marimba band and four husky dock workers carrying the xylophone through the ménage of hotel guests as the band belts out marimba tune 'The Jerk in the Black Cape.  "You cannot bring your playing band through the Refreshment Lobby knocking over hotel guests, drinks tables chairs and leaving rubber bands all over that are clogging our vacuums and restrooms and--"

"It's okay Pedro," Heavy D hotel Front Desk and all around crisis manager said Marlene Dietrich style, a short heavy very attractive woman dressed in a storm-blue blazer designed by El Fuji-Yamo over a white pearl open neck by Solly Tude shirt, panther black slacks by Dorka of Sudan Fashions and Yenta Yoiks black mid-heel shoes, ordered in her halting, presence of command, timbre.

"Senorita Heavy D, my name is Jose."

"No it's not." Heavy D said, her voice was curt.  "Mr. Wong has a plutonium credit card. All damages  and everything else related to Mr. Wong and his room is being charged to his plutonium carte blanche charge card.

"A plutonium charge card.... that's leaves platinum cards in the swamp dust,"  Aiiie cried out... "But, Heavy D he cannot fit all these people, band instruments and baggage in room 212, the chiller room.  It is so crowded in the chiller room no one can sit down."

That's is why Pedro, we are putting Mr. Wong in one of our honeymoon sweets that just came back on line," Heavy D said gleefully in that halting sing-song voice."

"Who is this Pedro?"  Jose questions as he looks around suspiciously.

"Wait a minute,"  Goombah Wong fires his volley into the conversation  "Who's this Mr. Wong your putting in a just-got-hitched 'sweets?' "

"You," Heavy D snaps in a sharp but soft tone.

"Me?  what are ya nuts.  I'm Goombah Wong.  Not this pinhead Mister Wong. Ya meat heads  got the Wong Wong.  I'm Goombah Wong not Mister Wong or am I?"

"Huh?"  Heavy D and Aiiie blast at the same time.

"I'm not married ya bean brains.  Did you Pasquale's marry me when I wasn't lookin'?"

In Spanish Jose Aiiie states out of the side of his mouth, "This idiot is deranged.  Perhaps I should get my fishing nets drying out back behind the laundry area and tie him up."

"That's why you will never be a hotel crises manager Pedro, no one who holds a plutonium card is never nuts.  They are just... whimsical."

"My name is Jose."  Jose Aiiie blurts"

"No it's not, now stop this nonsence." Heavy D anoints. " Just get Goombah Wong to his honeymoon suite...quietly."

"If I just got hitched where's my wife?"  Goombah Wong parries?"

"Well you got me on that,"  heavy D snorts.

"I can't fit all of these nu... I mean whimsical characters in the special elevator to the honeymoon suites," Jose Aiiie pleads.

"Squeeze Pedro," Heavy D sings as she prances through the refreshment Area lobby like a skillful water horse surfacing for air...  "Squeeze."
***

JOURNAL ENTRY;

Friday
03 June 1994
8:51PM

Garden of Uber Intelligence Restaurant
Herr Schutzstaffel's  Fuhrer table
Herr Schutzstaffel, Ludwig Stumpfegger Fuhrer Physician, Frau Porcha, Fuhrer Body Guard, Abu Bakar Bashir. Commander of Fedayeen commandos and messenger.

'Yes, we have no bananas.'

"Ja ja. Ist you being Fuhrer-sure that this ist being all that dummkopf-stupid ape at the Panama Simian Research Center ist making from this monkey writing report that idiot IRA Molly sent me, the new beloved Fuhrer?"  Herr Schutzstaffel is adorned in his usual white military cap with 'Dead Head' insignia. A formal white military uniform with the usual red and black and sometimes yellow stripes, matching jacket and pants stripes.  A chest full of medals from the  Iron Cross to a Tom Mix, Ralston cereal good cowboy badge which was the reason he goose stepped, the weight of all the medals, making him hunch forward a bit. And his fingernails painted in 'Fuhrer-blood polish, he must have copied from Hermann Goering.

"Jawohl, mine new beloved Fuhrer, Commandant Porcha, incased in a beautiful white gown with extremely long trestle, by 'Dolph of Argentina,' a diamond encrusted Tierra, belonging to Helena of Troy one could possibly say 'on loan' from the Berlin Museum last seen in 1944 and Yenta Yoiks white jeweled, stilleto-heeled shoes reinforced due to her large man-size clodhoppers.  All complemented by a white Ivory fan now yellow with age, possibly belonging to Marie Atoinette  that The Louvre' is still looking for, confirmed.  "One of my 'foul-weather troopers'  gave me this report just before we descended on the Fuhrer lift to the Garden of Uber Intelligence.."

" Ja ja dummkopf.  I ist knowing where I, the new beloved Fuhrer ist being going to the Garden of Uber Intelligence.   Ist you meaning to tell me all that dummkopf zoo ape could decipher from that 300 page report ist 'Yes, we have no bananas?'  I the beloved new Fuhrer ist not knowing what that ist even meaning."

"Perhaps this professional idiot Steve Ptah ist having un appetite for not having bananas?"  Stumpfegger grumbled, adjusting his fez plantation style.

"Ja ja, we ist having to go with that."

"Ah, here ist they coming to the gate of the Uber Intelligence," Frau Commandant Porcha said before fainting head first, fan and all, into her dish of 'stewed prunes hullabaloo.'

"Ja ja.  Stumfegger, you ist being Fuhrer sure you ist fixing the question that my possible Liebchen's partner this accursed Steve Ptah cannot possibly answer unt not be allowed into mein uber intelligence dining area?"

"Blasphemers," Abu Bakar Bashir cried as he chowed down on his Goat Cheese Terrine.

"Jawhol, mein new beloved fuhrer," Stumpfegger said, laughing manically in his heavily starched white dishdasha  adjusting his fez adjunct-professor style.  A sign appearing on the back of his dishdasha after he sat down that his body heat developed the quote.  'I Ist being With Stupid.' "There ist quite un crowd in the uber intelligence dining area.  Un assortment of egg-head professors unt Wolf man-type debutantes,  dimwit politicians who we ist accepting bribes to allow them entrance so they ist being seen by there being more dimwitted supporters--"

"Ja ja, not bribes dummkopf.  Fuhrer-donations Stumpfegger."

 "Jawohl, mein a...er...  Unt celebrities like un Sunny Salacious that ist being charging everyone a thousand Balboa's for him to being haunting a house.  Unt that psychic Stubalena Toez that  ist saying she ist  predicts over 50 % of her prediction ist being proved stupid unt the rest wrong unt amazingly she ist being always right.   Unt let us Fuhrer-see how long it ist being for mein new beloved Fuhrer's possible Liebchen to being solved one of the worlds most difficult formulas?"

"Ja ja.  Fabelhaft Stumpfegger.  Was ist this?  There ist seeming to be un Fuhrer-commotion."
***


JOURNAL ENTRY:

Friday
03 June 1994
9:55PM

Garden of Uber Intelligence Restaurant.  Main Entryway
Caesar Palace Restaurants Area
Panama City. Panama

'I'm just a guy from Brooklyn.'

"Yes hi,"  Magie said in a soft tone with just a hint of a French accent. She is wearing an elegant slim black dress neck high flowing to her ankles designed by Les Shoppe de Gifts with matching black semi-high heels designer Faux Yenta Yoiks. No jewelry, a small silver clip of The Devine Mercy over her heart and her glistening brunette hair swept back flowing  a bit over her left shoulder offering just a hint of Phantasia. All this nothingness, making her girl-next-door stunning in addition to drop-dead gorgeous as usual. "We're guest of Herr Schutzstaffel."

"Ah yes,"  the Maître D' Ponce answered in a voice that told the sad story of a goose flying the skies solo in search for mother.  " 'The Champion Merengue Dancers' that were arrested at the airport for causing a riot--"

"The 'World' Champion Merengue dancers arrested at the airport for causing a riot," Steve corrected. He is attired in a black jacket, by Unknown, a dark gray shirt by same Unknown, black boot cut Chinos, by 'Made in Japan by 'Bangladeshies' working in China' and black Roy Rogers classic cowboy boots. (Magie always describes Steve in her writings as the most intelligent moron she has ever known; the ugliest handsome guy that has no idea he is so horribly good-looking.)

"Yes, of course,"  the Maitre D' said.  I am your Maitre D'--"

"Well 'By Granny' little 'pardner.' I know your wife Heavy D. Now I don't know the lingo in El 'Espanoil'  what 'Maitre' means but we met your sweetie when we checked-in. She told us all about you being hit on your head with a parachute."

"I beg your pardon sir.  I am your Maitre D'--"

"Yeah, Pancho, I know that. I just said me and Magie, or is it Magie and I? Steve points to his right eye. "Get it Mister D?  'I' 'Eye' ? Anyway we  met your wife Heavy D when we checked-in earlier."

"No sir, you do not understand I am Ponce your--"

"Yeah, that's sweet you havin' a sweetie name for your wife Heavy--"

"Sir, I am not married to--"

"Better not let ya wife Heavy D hear you taklin' crazy like that.  But I guess the parachute accident would explain ya incoherent babbling."

"There was no parachute--"  Ponce the Maitre D' started to say.

"Please.  Stop," Magie said turning to Steve. "I'm getting dizzy.  Can you just show us to Herr Schutzstaffel table."

 "Si Senora  But--"

"Senorita," Magie corrected

"Si Senorita, my apologies and my congratulations, I was worried for a moment.  But first you must take a one question test the  International ASSININE group, the most intelligent people in the world and perhaps beyond prepared and you must answer correcto to enter."

"Of course," Maggie said.  "I am on the board of 'Always Super Special Intelligent Naturally  Impatient kNow Everythings.'  You know that Steve."

"Yes of course you are Magie," Steve sighed. "I wish I didn't know that.  But, I do."

"Now Steve don't get embarrassed or cause a scene if you can't answer the super intelligent question you'll be asked," Magie's whisper was like a soft breeze of a speeding arrow penetrating an ear.

  "House rules but I'm sure the Senorita will have no problem,"Maitre D' Ponce said handing Magie and Steve separate question sheet pads with attached number two Ticonderoga pencils.  "Just write in the correcto answer next to the circle and this little machine here will see if your answer is correcto."

"Here, Magie said handing the paper back right away.

"Incroyable,"  the Maitre D' said as the machine bell, in F sharp, signaled a correcto answer as it gonged.   "You are correcto on the first attempt Senorita.  No one has ever solved this formula on the first attempt before.  And you Senor?"

"Show off," Steve whispered.   Correcto? Hanh? You babble in Spanish?  Here," Steve said, "I thought these would be tough  questions.  Everyone knows how much wood a woodchuck could chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood."

"Wouldchuck?"  The Maitre D' demanded to know.  "What is this this woodchuck? There is no woodchuck question on--"  The Maitre D' was interrupted by the machine's F sharp bell gong's  showing that Steve's answer was correcto.  "I...I, I don't comprehend--"

"Could you show us to Herr Schutzstaffel's  table," Magie said impatiently.

"Yeah," Steve said, gently pushing Magie through the Uber Intelligent gate.  "We're only interested in food."

"Si, of course," The startled  Maitre' D' said.

"How did you do that Steve," Magie whispers, her voice like an angel humming a Gregorian chant.

"Do what?" Steve grumbled or maybe that was his stomach growling

"I mean everyone knows you're an idiot."  Magie spoke in that angelic tone that puts the noise of a falling leaf landing on water to shame. "No offense of course." After all this time together they seem to know what one another is thinking.  They probably could hold a day's conversation without uttering a word.

"No time for your perverted Kudos Magie.  Not just an idiot but 'The' idiot.'  Steve boasts proudly like an Olympic Gold Winner telling the world how he or she is so proud.  Then quietly asked Magie, "What was your question that no one before was able to answer?"

"How many Frenchmen can't be wrong?"  Magie's tone carried the snap of a bullwhip being cracked.

"Huh?  How many what can't be what?"

"Who are you actually, Steve Ptah?  I mean besides being 'The' idiot we all know and almost tolerate. "  Magie asked her tone now showing again a touch of  latent suspicion.

"I'm just a guy from Brooklyn. It's not who I am that is important. It is the One 'I Am' who has sent me that's important but you always knew that."

Approaching Herr Schutzstaffel's table, Magie whispers to Steve, "What?  Oh,there's that aroma of evil again."  A group of 'Shutzstaffel Youth Girls' in formal attire representing the jesters of King Arthur's Court came out dancing 'The Twist' to greet the new guests of the new beloved Fuhrer singing:  'Herr Herr Schutzstaffel is the man.  If the new beloved Fuhrer cannot do it, no one can.'  Then doing a French 'in line' Can Can dance swirling and kicking off as quickly as they arrived.

"What the..."  Steve started to say, or, maybe it was Magie.

"Ah, Herr Shutzstaffel's table," Ponce the Maitre D' announced.

"I got it," Steve yelled causing Herr Schutzstaffel and Doctor professor Stumpfegger and Commandant Porcha and a frowning Abu to defy gravity for a moment. "Frenchmen.  Fifty thousand.  Am I correcto Magie?  Wait.  Fifty million.  No. Fifty thousand. Wait--"

"Will you please shut up Steve," Magie's words were like pinballs in an off kilter pinball machine rushing to and fro whacking the cracpola out of all present at the table until they hit Steve.  His physiognomy took on the appearance of the word 'Tilt.'

  Herr Shutzstaffel and Ludwig Stumpfegger, who adjusted  his Fez 'Grub Deckung Ma'am style, stand up to Fuhrer greet Magie both  with a Fuhrer heel click. Commandant Porcha remained seated biting into one of her prunes causing prune juice to squirt. Abu, not looking up from his Goat Cheese Terrine lamented "Blasphemers."

  Herr Schutzstaffel became almost speechless, as his reptilian stare at Magie was just starting, unable to complete his Fuhrer heel click, as he sees Magie's face in person  and close up.  "Ja ja Liebchen... it ist being fablehaft time.  It ist being mein--" the new beloved Fuhrer started to say.

Then there was a high pitched extremely audible shriek and a sound as if someone had jumped on a chair.
***


JOURNAL ENTRY:


Friday
03 June 1994
10:03 PM

U.S. Army Fort Yuma Arizona phone conversation electronic intercept NSA P145
Video dubbing by Ft. Yuma intake dubbing between:
'The Noggin's' mansion, East Wing, Spirit Road, 'The Big C.' and
Caesar Palace Hotel Honeymoon Suite 807, Panama City Panama.


'Ya married a jerk in a black cape?'

Look ya ferbonie  whada ya mean ya got married ya--"  'The Noggin' started to scream hysterically into the goombah phone.

" 'Noggin' I thought you're in the nut ward again.  You and that nitwit Insollent?  Goombah Wong interrupted." Very loud marimba music playing in the background with yells as the marimba players snap rubber bands at each other from thousands of rubber bands strewn about the Honeymoon suite.

"My feet ya moron are on fire," Myron Insolennt yells as Frau Puckcarber pours more cold water in his foot bath adds Epsom Salts and more lighter fluid to cause a surface flambé* as she ignites the fuel floating on top of the footbath water.

*An old Nazi recipe for countering hotfoots.  Dolph (Adolph Hitler) loved to sneak up behind his Generals, especially as the Russians were fighting their way into Berlin, when they were looking over maps and give them hotfoots. Gestapo Muller, whose feet were like two overcooked badly burnt baked potatoes and eventually moved his office into a Fuhrer swimming pool, got so fed up with the Fuhrer giving everyone hotfoots that he Gestapo ordered, way back in 1938, the top doctors and scientist to come up with an antidote to the Fuhrer's infamous full immolation  hotfoot.

  "You got my hospital PJ's on fire ya..."  The scream of pain emanating from Insolentt's lips was horrific.

"Will ya shadup ya ferbonie, I'm on the Goombah phone, 'The Noggin' announce in Goombah speak. "Listen ya ferbonie, there was so many disturbances up on 'The Noggin's' woodpecker floor it woke 'The Noggin' up.  Cops and Feds and animal capture units running around yellin', some ferbonie floatin' by 'The Noggin's' room sittin' on another ferbonie usin' that ferbonie  as a ferbonie kayak.

  That ferbonie Nurse Feudal in a ferbonie death struggle with a long yellow ferbonie necktie.  Screamin' panic   'The Noggin' grabs  that ferbonie Insolentt, stopped for a Calliope  Morning Street Pizza that were all over.  Ran into old man Grunt lurking near the entrance shadows waiting to give piggyback rides and 'The Noggin' and the ferbonie Insolentt were  piggybacked to 'The Noggin's' mansuion.  It was goombah horrific."

"You say something 'Noggin?'  Hey ya meatheads keep it down.  "I'm on the goombah phone with 'The Noggin.'  These morons are always practicin' the same marimba tune, 'The Jerk in the Black Cape.' "

"What are ya ferbonie nuts, ya married a jerk in a black cape. What about 'The Noggin's' Panamanian roller derby team, 'The Bilderbergers ya ferbonie?  I'm comin' down."  'The Noggin's' voice changed in mid-bellow to a high operatic note as he slams  the goombah phone down.  "Hey ya  Ganadage Frau Puckarber,"  'The Noggin' hurled,  "ya forget about that ferbonie Insolentt's' clodhoppers, put out that firestorm in that ferbonie Insolentt's foot bath and get 'The Noggin' goombah group tickets to Panama City,  ya ferbonie."

"Okay Mister Numbchucks--"

"Noggin' ya ferbonie, 'My name is 'The Noggin."

"Fire.  Fire. My hospital pajama bottoms are on fire ya stupid..."  Insolentt screams, as smoke alarms wail the hysterical high pitch, that only dogs and pubescent Walruses  can hear, a goombah oath so loud, that Phibbs, 'The Noggin's manservant and savant ears begin to bleed as he approaches with an official goombah fire extinguisher.
***

JOURNAL ENTRY:

Friday
03 June 1994
10:05PM

Molly's Irish Tavern (Temporarily Closed Due To Assassination Attempt.)
Molly is recuperating in the Private Emergency Receiving Hospital.
Icelickers Mall
'The Big C.' New York

'I use to be an Apache scout and in my spare time a Ninja..'

"Frankly we at  National Security Agency called you Commissar Otnot at INTERPOL in to investigate the attempted assassination of Mesquite Molly by a hurled sarcophagus through a... a new, expansive  wonderful view picture window: and because this situation involves an active international mission we at  National Security Agency are not able to deal with this much... flummery," Inspector Annuit Coep'tis, a non-discript man in a grey, all labels removed suit and non-discript shoes with shoe size scratched out, dispatched his words with all the power of a federal reserve note.  "I mean the whole thing reeks of nincompoopery."

"Yes, reeks Kemo Sabe," Commissar Otnot mumbled deep in thought, also dressed in a non-descript suit and shoes, except for his  hint of a grayish blue muff and a dueling scar in the shape of a feathered Z across his left cheek.

"What 'id you call me? Who?"  Inspector Annuit Coep'tis challenged.  "The card glued on to the mummy case read--"

"Don't tell me," Commissar Otnot bellowed.  "Allow me to introduce you to my faithful assistant Pluto Vance.  He's a clarifying-buoyant--"

"Don't you mean 'clairvoyant?' " Inspector Annuit Coep'tis interrupts.

"Certainly not," an annoyed Commissar Otnot his words left teeth marks on all who heard. "Pluto Vance brings clarity to the surface.  Go ahead Pluto tell the inspector what the attached card had written on it."

Pluto,  a slender man with a wet nose and a silver mustache and wearing a forlorn 1920's gray hat with black belt around the brim, the whole thing pulled down on the left side of his head, long tan mohair coat that fell just above his shiny white spats partially covering his black oxfords.  "Okay Pop. It read," looking out the broken picture window then quickly a 180 degree spin, "Bon Voyage, Admiral Nelson."

"Not even close," Inspector Annuit Coep'tis said, shaking his head.  "Is this your son?"

"Then I was right," Pluto Vance said.  "perhaps Inspector you have seen my latest movie, 'The Green Murder Case.'  I noticed it's playing now in 'The Big C' when we arrived.  These off Broadway towns always get the latest movies first."

"I believe that movie was released in 1929...and the detective was Philo Vance you--" Inspector Coep'tis sadistic words were cut off.

"Then I was right again," Pluto Vance boasted with glee.  How can I be so good."

 "I can smell the reek but the reek of stupidity masked by clever nincompoopery.  There is lunatic intelligence behind this reek.  By the cheery-by do you realize my name spelled backwards is 'Tonto?'  I use to be an Apache scout and a Ninja in my spare time. In fact I took this case to visit 'The Big C' Ninja store on Morning Street." Commissar Otnot clamped his mouth shut, held his nose with his fingers and blows clearing his ear passages with a loud popping sound.

"What a you talking about Otnot?  There is no Ninja store in 'The Big C.' " Inspector Coep'tis said in his finest 'up against the wall' blast.

"Only Ninja's can see it on Morning Street,"  Commissar Otnot fired back.

"It's disguised as a--"  Pluto Vance started to yell in his 'spill the beans.' hysterics.

"Now do we have a first name for this assassin known to you at NSA as Sarcophagus."  Commissar Otnot questioned.

"First  name? Yeeees," Inspector Annuit Coep'tis murmured, in a suspicious tone.  "I suppose one could deduce its first name is 'Egyptian?  You realize of course we are speaking of a mummy case?"

"Egyptian Sarcophagus, hmmm... Devoted to his mother, no doubt. Sounds as if the assassin could be possibly foreign. I will put out an international INTERPOL warrant for Mister Sarcophagus immediately.  He will not escape  Thank you Inspector Annuit Coep'tis,"  Commissar Otnot snapped.  "That little piece of info will be of great help.

 I see Commissar Otnot, G2 (Army Intelligence)  has sent us the right... Apache scout.  Now let me fill you in..."
***


JOURNAL ENTRY:

Friday
03 June 1994
10:06PM

Garden of Uber Intelligence Restaurant
Caesar Palace Hotel
Panama City, Panama
Main Entrance

'Hehnder vehk.'

"Steve," Magie growled softly in a French southern accent.  "Get off that chair.  Everyone is looking.  You are embarrassing me."

"Magie, I thought I saw a mouse.  Maybe a fast moving mole?"

"What ist going on here?"  Commandant Porcha asked pulling her mug out of her prune dish.

"Ja ja, unt moose?'  Herr Shutzstaffel challenged, as his prearranged drum and bugle core goose stepped surrounded the table and began playing the new beloved Fuhrer's song entitled:  'When Herman Goring does the Nazi Jig He Resembles Herr Porko Pig.'  All 30 band members begin to goosestep march around the table as other guests began looking under their table.  What ist this nonsense.  'Getenzie' off that teuer chair dummkopf."

"Not a moose ya fraternal fathead a mouse," Steve blasts still on the chair pulling his chinos up to his ankles as if he were showing off his RR cowboy boots. It was hideous."  Steve screams again.

"Steve, stop that you're shrieks are hurting my ears,"

"No," Steve gags in horror.  "There it... it is again.  "It surfaced on that chair.  It's now wearing a... a, Fez."

"What are you hysterical about," Magie yells over the drum and bugle band and Herr Schutzstaffel banging on the table and screaming in high German 'Hehnder vehk' ( 'Keep your hands to yourself.' ) Why he was yelling that no one knows.)  Magie looks over to were Steve was pointing and she momentarily gasps, with a yelp.  "Get a doctor.  That man just took the full power of a swinging wrecking ball in the face."

"Fuhrer Physician Ludwig Stumpfegger,  turning his Fez operating room style, screeches, "I ist a Fuhrer doctor where is this person?"

"What ist going on," a still perched Commandant Porcha bellows blowing prune pits out of her mouth.  I ist not seeing with this prune juice ist being in mien eyeballs. Unt the prune juice is sticking mien eyelids together.  What ist being happening here?"

Abu Bakar Bashir leaps up on his chair pulling his dishdasa over his head yelling "Blasphemers." His Tidy Whites showing arrows for right and left side for wide turns and back and front.

"Your order of mashed creamed turnips, Commandant Porcha," Garden of Uber Intelligence Scandinavian waiter Idarenotleaveda Helm announces.

"Hehnder vehk.  I ist Fuhrer saying hehnder vehk."  Herr Schutzstaffel Fuhrer panics. 

"I ist not seeing any wrecking ball head person," Herr Stumpfegger panic-calls.

"It can talk," Steve yells, the drum and bugle corps still playing and marching as if nothing had happened.

In the chaos of Uber Intelligence Restaurant patrons stampeding toward the the only Uber Intelligence gate as an hombre dressed as an American swine in a fencing suit and a unfurled foil followed by a marimba band and brawny dock works carrying the xylophone while the band is playing 'The Jerk in the Black Cape' force their way against the rapids of the fleeing, explosive  diners screaming "There is a moose loose in the Uber Intelligence restaurant."

"Steve, " Magie said in a hurried but calm voice.  "Don't just stand on a chair screaming.  Do something. 

Steve yells to the Ponce the Maitre D' to call his wife Heavy D to restore order.

"Please sir I am not married."  then Ponce seeing the marimba band being led by a fencing instructor  entering the Restaurant of Uber Intelligence, runs toward the marimba band yelling , "No marimba music is allowed in the Garden of Uber Intelligence Restaurant.  Only in the Vestibule of Composers restaurant next to the  Hallway of Plain Schmucks Restaurants.  Stop.  Stop," before Ponce the Maitre D' entered the world of Mort Plopp and Reentry never to be seen again."

Herr Schutzstaffel, having a flashback thought Ponce the Maitre D' was yelling "No Russians allowed in Berlin."

 "Ja ja, the Lehrter railway station. I ist being able escape unto the subway station,"  his panic statement almost lost in the stampede of the uber intelligentsia as they screamed incorrect quotes from 'The Fairy with Turquoise Hair' did not go unnoticed by Magie.   Then the Garden of Uber Intelligence Restaurant lights went out."
***

JOURNAL ENTRY:

Saturday
04 June 1994
10:00AM

Molly's (Temporarily Closed) Irish Tavern
Icelickers Mall
East end of 'The Big C.'

'It must be something in 'The Big C' water.'

"Look Commissar Otnot,"  NSA Inspector Annuit Coep'tis said, his voice showing the possibility of annoyance or upset stomach.   "I wanted to fill you in last night but but you were afraid of a cave-in--"

"Concerned," my dear Inspector Coep'tis.  Not afraid."

"Then this morning we couldn't wake you or your sidekick... Pluto Vance and I have several witnesses waiting here for you to question.  So can we proceed."

"Of course, Inspector... er  what did you say your name was?"

"Coep'tis... Annuit Coep'tis."

"Yes of course, I knew that. I was just testing you.  I never have trouble remembering Irish names.  And once I, Commissar Otnot solve this case you will receive a mechanized call from INTERPOL to see if you are satisfied with the service you received. Now what I want to know is, what about the brief case.?"

"Briefcase? What briefcase--"

A frantic knocking on Molly's Irish tavern new door.  "Let me in.  Let me in."

Inspector Coep'tis retreats to Molly's front door and opens it.  The scent of Spring pushed its way in followed by Pluto Vance.  "Pop, Pop, somebody hit me on the head and stole the briefcase."

"What briefcase?"  Inspector Coep'tis called out as if he was ordering a hot dog at a crowded Coney Island boardwalk hot dog stand.

"Did you see who it was that took the briefcase?"  Commissar Otnot  demanded an answer in a voice that wouldn't wait for an answer."

"Pop, I was unconscious, Pop."  Pluto Vance cried out.  "Let me get in touch with my mind reading- mind blinking ability."

"Forget it" Inspector Coep'tis pleaded.  "Now what's all this about a briefcase?"

"The attempted murder weapon, my gosh man have you forgotten about the most important clue already"  Commissar Otnot blurted.

"The attempted assassination weapon was a Sarcophagus a drive by 'Sarcophagusing' thrown through that now boarded up broken picture window.  These witness I have here saw what happened.  They are ready to be questioned.

"Are you sure," Commissar Otnot asked a high note of concern in his voice.  "No offense to you old man but your witnesses look stupid."

"Why you staring at me Pop, I'm not a witness," Pluto Vance fired.  "The witnesses are behind you."

"Ah, so they are but a... this Mister Sarcophagus, you seem to dismiss so lightly Inspector Coep'tis... well this briefcase he was carrying... they can be easily be confused with each other."

"Confusing a Sarcophagus with a briefcase, Otnot.  You know this kind of nincompooery I expect from the highest levels of NSA management.  How disappointing it also effects INTERPOL," Inspector Coep'tis voice carried tears.

"Quiet you fears Coep'tis," Otnot decried.  "I am sure my faithful Companion Pluto here will pick up the sent of the stolen briefcase soon. Nothing in the heavens can escape Pluto."

"What briefcase?  Pluto? Are we talking about a dog?  A planet? Or something that might be marginally human?  What? It must be something in 'The Big C's' water. Yes I'm sure.  Nobody drink any more water--" Inspector Coep'tis began when there was a high pitched Raptor cry and what sounded like a fluttering of wings."
***

JOURNAL ENTRY:

Saturday
04 June 1994
10:03AM

Concierge Level
Blue, White and Beige Trim Breakfast Room, 7th Floor
Caesar Palace Hotel
Panama City, Panama

'Call me a frail once more and--'

"I can't believe they didn't throw us out of the hotel last night after that fiasco at the Garden of Uber Intelligence restaurant," Magie said sipping green tea with a spot of honey.  She was sitting back looking relaxed in her ankle length white chiffon dress by Panama Sweets Fashions and Faux Yenta Yoiks white sandals.  Her hair in a ponytail corralled by her handmade tiny emeralds round scrunchy.

A tame Macaw was reciting the Russian alphabet backwards.  As Steve, in an open at the neck white shirt by 'Who Knows' and Khaki Chinos, one of four chinos  'Made in USA' and soft light brown swede, riding heel by RR cowboy boots.  "Ya know Magie, just sittin' her taking a slug of my black java--"

"I know black without milk or sugar," Magie remembering how he ordered coffee back in 'The Big C.' "

"Magie, I've come to the conclusion that that Macaw is smarter than me.  Or should it be 'I?'   I can get Z,Y, X in English but then--"

"Excuse me Senor and Senora but--"  Alurea the breakfast concierge in matching decor uniform began to speak. "I apologize for the window washers on the scaffold out side blocking your view...  Ah, they are finished and moving to the floors below Senora--"

"Senorita," Magie corrected.

"Oh, that is a relief I was a little concerned.   But I was going to say the little boy over there, Bismark just spilled all his marbles, blocks and ball bearing there on the side and toward the automatic doors open to the veranda area so please be careful.  It is very, how does one say?  oh yes, very slippery."

"Yeah, we heard the kids blocks on wheels game collapse. Make the kid pick them up, there has to be a thousand marbles and ball bearings all over." Steve inserted in a voice that one uses when one is use to giving orders.

"Oh no senor.  Bismark is the nephew of one of our most important, corrupt and hated political bureaucrat's. We must clean up after him as we do for all politicians who...shall we say 'lose their marbles.'

"Like we in the United States have to do after our well meaning politicians... after they depart stage left into the dust bin of 'Who was that mentally disturbed person?' " Steve remarked sadly.

"Cheer up Steve,"  Magie chirped. "Of course it's all  your fault for being a  non-informed when you vote."

"Can I help you clean that mess up Alurea," Steve asked.

"Oh no, thank you but we are unionized.  If I started to clean this dangerous situation up or the union master saw you picking these marbles and ball bearing up... there would be a immediate walkout.  And we would have to bus in The Professional Greeters and Protestors Organization folk from New York."

"The PGPO," Steve sighed.  "Yeah, they can be expensive not to mention their benefit packages... which is better than our Congressmen and Senators receive."

"Congresspersons," Magie injected with a hard push.  "Remember one always has to be Gender Neutral."

"Don't start that nudist talk again," Steve slammed his words as one slams a door.

"Huh?  Thank you Alurea," Magie said, her voice registered appreciation. Then turning back to Steve,  "Something strange happened at the dinner that never was last night," Magie's tone now was thoughtful as she gazed out the large terrace window at Panama Bay careful to avoid the sun that was in the process of gathering its energy for the noon day over heated oven blast.

"Do tell," Steve said closing his eyes and taking in the aroma of fresh cinnamon. "Honestly, you frails. I didn't notice anything unusual about the 'almost dinner' last night.

"Since when are you afraid of a mouse, moron?  And drop the Bogart vernacular. I'm still not sure what century you belong to?  Call me a frail once more and--"

"Mouse?  I, like Herr Schutzstaffel, thought it was a moose or a militant, radical...mole."

Towards the end of the Farrago you caused, Herr Schutzstaffel panicked and said something about escaping into the Lehrter subway station," Magie stated flat out in that now  swooping Irish/French accent."

"The Lehrter subway.  That was in one of those briefs  we studied.  Perhaps this a clue?"  Steve surmised as he pondered the continuous battle between gravity and the electrometric energy holding crushing force of gravity at bay.  Or something like that.

"Or perhaps he said it on purpose to see our reaction, idiot. And then for a moment towards the end of the chaos I thought I saw--"

"If your gonna say 'a putty tat' I'm gonna--"

"That marimba band we saw at the airport."  Magie chimed in her voice black hose interrogation style but deceptively friendly.

"I'm sure they have dates to play all over," Steve said.  "But now that you mention it before the lights went out it looked like they had big guys carrying the xylophone behind the idiot in the American swine fencing costume swinging his sword."

"That's it," Magie shot forward in her sitting position.  The idiot in the fencing outfit sticking people with his foil.  I could swear that was--"

"Did you get a chance to feel if Herr Schutzstaffel may have had a broken collarbone at the almost dinner last night?"

"Of course oh great brainless one. In the chaos of the moment last evening didn't you hear me tell the new beloved pumpkin face that holds all the evil in the world in his eyes and then some to stick his tongue out and say aaahhh before I gave him a complete physical."

"Good," Steve said smacking his lips in anticipation of Magie's diagnosis.

"You are such a, a...professional blockhead.--"

"Thanks Magie but save your Kudos for after the mission. You know Magie, there was something about that seed spitting Commandant Porcha. She reminds me of a guy I saw someplace.  Did you notice her feet.  I mean they could meet the official requirements for clown feet."

"All I noticed was scaring from burns on the soles of her feet when her chair was knocked over in the riot and her shoes came flying off.  Why? Do you--"

"Excuse me. There is a man with a pulsating knob on his forehead who wants to see you folks," Maria  another breakfast concierges attired in her blue, white and beige traditional hotel uniform said in a hushed and frightened sigh.

"It's Abu... again," Magie said standing up.  "Oh Abu we want to apologize for the misunderstanding yesterday afternoon and your boo boo..  Steve stand up and apologize to Abu for his boo boo."

"You're not going to start that baby talk again,' Steve said in a annoyed voice as he refused to stand up.

"Here, blasphemers," Abu said handing Magie another invitation for dinner tonight at 9 PM in Herr Schutzstaffel Palatial suite this time. "Now I must use your veranda to praise the new beloved Fuhrer Herr Schutzstaffel before it becomes unbearably hot.

"Blasphemers?  Oh be careful Abu the child spilled his marbles and ball bearings all over--" Magie started to say.  And then the scream.
***
                                                               
JOURNAL ENTRY:

Saturday
04 June 1994
10:42AM

Caesar Palace Hotel
Herr Schutzstaffel's
Private 13th floor Palatial Suite
Panama City, Panama

'Sie pfalumenkopf.'

"Ja ja I, the new beloved Fuhrer ist not understanding what ist being happening last night.  Tell your new beloved Fuhrer Herr Schutzstaffel how did dummkopf  a... a, Steve Ptah gain entrance  to the  to the Garden of Uber Intelligence. Dunderheads, Bumblers,"  Then using a predicate adjective. "Stumpfeggers?"  I ist supposed to be having mein dinner with mein Liebchen.  You ist being in charge of the question to answer to  gain passing ? Unt where ist it being that dummkopf Maitrd D'?  I ist Fuhrer sending for him un hour ago.  Who ist ringing the doorbell again?"

"But mein new beloved Fuhrer. I ist hearing a Fuhrer rumor that Ponce has married the hotel assistant manager Heavy D'. He he has not been found yet.  We ist having rescue crew searching the carnage of the Garden of Uber 'Fuhrer' Intelligence.  As for it being for that question... that question he answered about a woodchuck is not even in the Uber Intelligence machine.  I do not know what this... woodchuck is but the Uber Intelligence machine marked his paper correcto."

"Ja ja. Bah  bah, three bags full blacking sheep. Someone ist trying to pull Fuhrer wool over the new beloved Fuhrer's eyes.  Commandant Porcha, what ist being your Fuhrer explanation of the happenings last night?  Unt will someone answer the dummkopf door"

"But there ist no one ist being there mein beloved new Fuhrer," Guntheri Gleeflee pleads in a high pitched operatic  tone.

"I could not be seeing, mein new beloved Fuhrer because I ist having prune juice in mein eyes, but I ist believing  mein new beloved Fuhrer was Blitzkrieg last night.  Frau Commandant Porcha bellows."

"Ja ja, but you ist being mein bodyguard unt temporarily being un charge of mein Fedayeen commandos now that it ist being Abu ist recovering from his Fuhrer-boo boo unt ist only able to being doing light work. Nein Nien more eating prunes for you... Sie pfalumenkopf.  I ist been sending Abu Bakar Bashir again with another invitation to dinner this time being unt mein palatial suite."

"Sehr gut mein new beloved Fuhrer," Hall monitor Guntheri Gleeflee responded as she stood  at Fuhrer  attention.  "Mein new beloved Fuhrer ist un great thinker...when he thinks.  I ist hoping these two merengue dancers ist not attacking Bashir again when Abu ist bringing them mein new beloved Fuhrer's dinner invitation again."

"Ja ja, never be minding the Fuhrer compliments. No one is being that dummkopf to attack my special envoy Bashir again unt risk the wrath of the new beloved Fuhrer.  Again you ist not being in mein Fuhrer hallway to see who ist ringing the doorbell unt running away.  I ist Fuhrer sure they ist not knowing Bashir ist being under mein new beloved Fuhrer protection. Why ist you ist still being here Gleeflee  unt ist you not out in the hall doing your Fuhrer monitoring unt answer the door dummkopf."

"I ist returning right now mein new beloved Fuhrer.  I ist just wanting to tell the new beloved Fuhrer that the  Fuhrer caterers unt serving staff ist all set to be arriving after your Fuhrer walk through the swimming pool area so the young Frauleins may Fuhrer oogle your Fuhrer magnificence."

"Ja ja,   'Beloved new Fuhrer magnificence' Frau Gleeflee.  Stumpfegger, mein Fuhrer mirror so I ist looking at me the new beloved Fuhrer.  Ist you having unt surprise for that dummkopf Steve Ptah.  I must be alone with mein Liebchen to Fuhrer interrogate Mein Manja... I ist meaning this Magie Carousel.

 Unt I must know if they ist being here to ensnare your new beloved Fuhrer... me.  Unt Commandant Porcha I ist Fuhrer wanting you to sendout your Fedayeen commandoes to watch how good mein Liebchen unt her idiot partner ist doing the merengue un their rehearsing  this week.  Unt in writing unt report unt not on the side of cows...writing on paper so your new beloved Fuhrer ist being able to understand   Your new beloved Fuhrer... me ist not wanting to go to that stupid ape at the Panama City Simian Research center for another translation."

"It ist being done, mein new beloved fuhrer as sure as I ist not being able to sweat," Commandant Porcha stated just before she passed out again.

"I ist not thinking there ist anything to worry about, mein new beloved Fuhrer," Herr Stumpfegger said handing his new beloved Fuhrer the Fuhrer hand held Fuhrer mirror, as he Fuhrer curtsied  so Herr Schutzstaffel can admire himself before leaving for the pool area.

 "These two merengue dancers are blithering dummkopfs.  Just dummkopf merengue dancers.  No professional secret agents ist being able to allow themselves to be being so dummkofp.  Their professional ego ist not permitting that. There ist no threat here that our new beloved Fuhrer, Fuhrer movement ist being put in danger by these two idiots."

"Unt I ist Fuhrer concurring, mein new beloved Fuhrer."  Kommandant Porcha, lifting her head from the floor drawled. "These so called Special Agents from all these countries trying to capture you  fail because they ist all in  love with their letterheads.  Bozos with Special Egos, the dummkopfs.  Ahhh, why ist I am being on the floor?"

"Ja ja.  The downfall of the professional undercover agent.  Just like all the others who ist tried to penetrate the new beloved Fuhrer unt all ist disappeared.  Unt be Fuhrer warned Stumpfegger be ist careful with your words Stumpfegger.  You ist speaking of mein new beloved poopchen Manja Behrins.  Ist anyone hearing unt scream?"
***                         

JOURNAL ENTRY:

Saturday
04 June 1994
!0:45AM

Molly's (Temporarily Closed) Irish Tavern
Icelickers Mall
East end of 'The Big C'

'Maybe she melted.'

"Are  you the idiot that let out that horrible cry? And stop flapping your arms birdbrain." Commissar Otnot bellowed.   "My Brazilian nut got caught in my throat,  if it was not for Pluto here running into my back with his head I may have  ... well."

"It's okay Pop.  I watched how Elk ram the backs of tourist that get too close to them on the Palooka Channel.' "

"I am not your Pop," Commissar Otnot yelped.

"Commissar Otnot," Inspector Anuit Coep'tis said in a hushed tone.  "This is Acid Burns,  a waitress who  works here.  She also believes  she is an ancient peacock from Mesopotamia or, er...Brooklyn I believe."

"So Inspector, you believe her," Commissar Otnot questioned, a dubious look sucker punched into his mug.

"No, I didn't mean I believe her that she is a peacock.  I meant...  Just  continue your questioning.  I have to be back in Washington tomorrow.  Is this idiot your son?"

"I interrogate.  I never question." Then turning back to Acid Commissar Otnot said, "What do you know about this briefcase thrown through the picture window in an attempt to assassinate this Mosquito Molly person?"

"She knows about the briefcase Pop," Pluto Vance barked. "She knows about the briefcase weapon used in the assassination attempt on this Mosquito women.  I'm reading her mind.  It's an open book to me."

Inspector Anuit Coep'tis just shook his head in the negative.  "For the last time there never was any briefcase. And the victims name is Mesquite Molly not... Who is this idiot?"  Inspector Coep'tis asked pointing an accusing finger at Pluto Vance."

"What briefcase?" Acid squawked as she put her hands under her armpits again and moved them slowly up and down as a great swan would in a takeoff attempt.  "It was a mummy case that was thrown through the window and bludgeoned Molly."

"See I was right again Pop,"  Pluto Vance sang out. "How can one man be so clever?"

"Ahhh, only the eyebrows of youth would have the nerve to talk this way to the revered elder's beard of senility," Inspector Otnot mumbled before Acid started to peck at the top of his head.

"Stop that pecking you pecker head bird brain.  Do you not are realizing you are peckering an officer of INTERPOL?"  Commissar Otnot declared."

"She must have some woodpecker blood in her peacock ancestry," Inspector Coep'tis coughed.

"I'm tellin' ya, ya KGB goofball... Molly was hit on the head with an Egyptian mummy case thrown through the giant picture window and Molly fell into the bathtub of Gin... But now that I peacock think about it I did hear a braying just before--"

"That's right,"  witness patrons of Molly's all began to blast. "A braying."

"Shut up.  There is nothing worse than you serfs quacking all at once.  Was this alleged turkey gobbling coming from the briefcase?" Commissar Otnot bellowed.

"There was no turkey gobbling, just a braying before the mummy case was thrown through the picture window. There was no briefcase ya communist fruit cake," all the eye witnesses shouted led by Acid accentuated with the war cry of a fighting peacock.

"Do not believe them Pop.  They are all lying.  I have read their moronic minds."

"Not lying Pluto," Commissar Otnot cried out in a joyful canter.  "They were all deluded into thinking they saw this case full of mommies, when a briefcase was the attempted assassination weapon.  When this Mosquito Molly regains consciousness she will affirm."

"How could a briefcase break a reinforced for commercial use window Commissar?"  Inspector Coep'tis pleaded.

"Remember, Coep'tis it was a case full of mommies that were carrying the briefcase.  Are you sure there was no briefcase found at this crime scene Coep'tis?"

"No.  No bloomin' briefcase and no mommies. The only one that said anything about a briefcase was your nitwit son ya--"

"Who?  Ivan was here and no one told me?  Ah, yes this briefcase you are always babbling about Coep'tis. Probably over looked or misplaced by your people probably because you have women on your team. I suggest you double check your evidence locker again, "Commissar Otnot said snidely.   "I've heard of this phenomena before.  The infamous terrorist Carlos Rameriez Ilich Sanchez also known as 'Carlos the Jackass' because of his braying before he attacks or his bombs go off."

"Hi I'm Pinky Teapot,"  A regular at Molly's whose had 199 fights too many mousey squeaked.  "I had 200 professional fights and lost them all Commissar Rotnot.   I wasn't here at the time. Does that make me a suspect?"

"Don't answer this bean-brain Pop.  It's a trick question."

"Oh yes," Acid Burns peacocked screamed as she tried to fly off her chair and before crashing to the floor. "Molly's freezer door I found open a few days ago.  I forgot to tell Molly but the Tongan is missing."

"The Tongan Pop.  The worlds most notorious assassin.  Even more than the Jackass guy. So we cross paths with the Tongan again Pop.  It's lucky you have me Pluto Vance on this case.  I got it Pop. I'm reading the freezer door's mind.  It was open.   The Tongan melted."

"Who in Stalin's potato sack shoulders are you?" Commissar Otnot blasts trying to get the bad tastes of stupidity out of his mouth
***

JOURNAL ENTRY:

Saturday
10:47AM
04 June 1994

Airport Taxi Stand
Panama City,  Airport
Panama City, Florida

'Yumpin' Yiminy guys, another Caesar coming up but this time it is an army of magpies.'

"What is this a joke you magpies?"  taxi driver Olaf Funtleroy, dressed in a black derby two sizes too small with a 'Press' ticket stuck in the hatband Jimmy Olsen style,  white short sleeved shirt, tan slacks white Alpaca socks and blue swede shoes, compliments of several hotel rooms,   asked in a gruff manor.

 "It's against the law to have so many a ya magpies in the back seat of a cab.  some of ya magpies gots to ride with your baggage.

"Just takes us ta Caesars Palace, ya ferbonie.  how many ferbonie times have I got a yak at ya , ya ferbonie." 'The Noggin' gasped as someone  sat on his head.

"As sure as my name is Olaf Fauntleroy there is no Caesar Palace Hotel in Panama City.  I went through this with another nut just a couple of days ago. Said he was connected, workin' for some nut that calls himself 'The 'Hogman' or somethin' like that.  I dropped him off at the looney bin here in Panama City, but it was on the news he escaped or somethin'. "

"I'm 'The Noggin' ya ferbobnie,"  'The Noggin' and his entourage are all attired, head to toe, in African Bush country Safari clothes designed by Cartoon Character Anonymous of Wetdog Maine personally created for 'The Noggin' and his groupies and initialed by YS. All except Phibbs 'The Noggin's' manservant, Svengali and savant wearing his usual Emperor Penguin butler outfit.   "And this ferbonie is goombah in training Myron Insolentt and the rest of these pathetic ferbonies is my--" 

"Doctor Myron Insolent," Myron Insolentt boasted.

"I get it Doc. You had me fooled for a minute wearing that African hunting getup. Oh, I'm glad  these magpies is travelin'  with you Doc.  Is the Hogman  dangerous?"

"Only to the world," Myron Insolentt said.

"I mean Doc, should not this Hogman guy and the rest of these magpies have a straight jackets on?"

"Old loaf, don't forget our luggage," Ganadga Frau Puckarber ordered in high Prussian.

"Yes Old man, you didn't load it in your boot," Phibbs announced as if dinner was being served. "And pay particular attention to the swiveling highchair.  It's 'The Noggin's' heightening chair."

"I ain't wearing boots ya...I get it Doc, Olaf ginned nervously, "Sure you sissy talking Penguin.  I am going to put your luggage in my invisible boots. Listen ya magpies the taxis behind us are loading your baggage and will follow us.  I am not driving  no 18 wheeler  moving van to get all your household goods in ya magpies.  What?  Are you magpies going on a year long safari. You are taking them all to the mad house?  Sorry Doc, I mean the wink, wink. I er, mean Caears house."

"Hey, ya ferbonies stop tryin' to talk over 'The Noggin's' head.  Now ya ferbonie take us to the Caesar Palace Hotel ya ferbonie.  Hey who's this ferbonie on my head?"

 A short heavyset guy got in the cab with 'The Noggin' and his staff.  A guy that looked like he needed a heavy stubble shave with a machete. He was wearing a tough-guy cap from the 1930's had a cauliflower nose, ears and muff, a heavy buttoned up-to-the neck with collar up checkered black and white overcoat, probably designed by, 'Stop Thief' down to his ankles, white spats over the top part of his  brown leather ankle-high boots that looked liked they were dipped in bronze.

"Never mind the chatter ya creeps get a move on," The stranger snapped in a stiff scratchy voice that portrayed him as someone who hasn't spoke since the last Brooklyn beer garden closed on Vanderbilt Avenue, near the spot that PS 9 is now located on. "You mutts are dealin' with the Brooklyn Creeper."

"What 'id that ferbonie say?" 'The Noggin' bit back. " 'The Noggin' ain't likein' a fast shuffle."

"I get it Doc.  I get it.  You Doc's call the Panama City loony bin the Caesar Palace Hotel.  All these magpies think they are all this Caesar guy.  I'll take you the Caesar Palace place where I took the other nitwit," the taxi driver winked into his rear view mirror at Myron Insolentt who was now in extreme panic mode. It's right next to the Station House so if there is any trouble with this motley goon squad you will get plenty of help from the men in bl-- Hey there is  a Paddy Wagon  now.  You want me to stop him Doc?  I'll make my code-call ahead so they will be expecting a tribe of Caesars. Then squeaks into his radio mike.  Yumpin' Yiminy guys, another Caesar coming up but this time it is an army of magpies."

Olaf hears the back seat doors fly open and slam shut as he started to drive off. "What the... ? Olaf looks through his rear view mirror to see an empty back seat.
***

JOURNAL ENTRY:

SATURDAY
1:30PM
04 June 1994

Veranda of Herr Schutzstaffel's Palatial Suite
Caesar Palace Hotel
Panama City, Panama.

'The Tongan ist being set on low thaw.'

Ja ja.  What ist you wanting?  Who are you?"  Herr Schutzstaffel demands.  Sitting on his weaved golden straw and Panda hide skin Fuhrer chair, next to his  large white table umbrella as he admires, through a sunglass monocle, his shaded  painting in a surprise cooling breeze of  The Bath of Bethsheba by Jacob Zucchi last seen in Berlin just before the Russian assault forces began to encircle the old German capital. The 16th century masterpiece  disappeared from the Italian Embassy just before the fall of Berlin.

 The new beloved Fuhrer is dressed in an old ostentatious Panama hat that was made in Ecuador where all true  Panama hats are made; his usual white formal military jacket with numerous German medals white starched military style short pants with thin single red, black and yellow stripes along the sides, black formal jackboot sandals and a Fuhrer riding stick.  A glass of 1939 red Aide de Koolinze  rested on the table next to his Heil arm.

Kommandant Porcha, disguised as a Piggy Pudding designed by "I Can't Deal With That Now INC' (disguises for the discriminating bird watcher) her T-33 Yugoslav pistol at the ready in one hand and a 'How To Frighten Birds Nija Style' book by Brooklyn's own Eddie 'Why Me' Rabinowitz.  Kommandant Porcha is up to page 3 of the 210 page manual and believes she can fog the minds of birds so they can't see her. The Kommandant pursues this due to pesky Oropendala's constructing their hanging nest on the new beloved Fuhrer's palatial balcony and dive bombing pigeons who seem to have a deep hatred for the new beloved Fuhrer.

"It ist being I," Herr Stumpfegger yelled, in his white dishdasha and red Fez worn 'Don't shoot' style. "Do not be shooting."

Ja ja, who ist shooting dummkopf.  What is it you ist wanting.  You dunderhead, you know I ist ending mien stolen-loot-admiring time and entering mien preparing for the Fraulien's unt Frau's to oogle-eye  their new beloved Fuhrer being at the pool of swimming time. There is going that dummkopf doorbell.  Will one of you schwenhund's answer the door.  Ist hat being too much to Fuhrer ask.""

"I ist still being not able to sweat Stumpfegger," Kommandant Porcha shouts tying to sound like a tweet of a canary. Unt I hinking mein feet ist still growing. Ist you making progress with your formula for me to sweat?"

"You ist just being experiencing nominal Fuhrer-side effects from mine expert surgery."  Herr Stumpfegger doled out a bunch of medical words as he turned his fez unbalanced doc style.

"For almost 50 years you--"

"There ist no one being at the door again  mein new beloved Fuhrer,"  Ganadage Frau Guntheri Gleeflee terrified tone seeps into the Fuhrer balcony."

"Ja ja, dummkopf, the whole Russuian Army ist probably being at the front door unt you would not even notice.   How ist they getting onto mein secured Fuhrer-floor. I? Your new beloved Fuhrer found the 'Top Secret' NSA security plan un a  Laundromat bulletin  board that Noriega used.  Unt I ist using it un mein new beloved Fuhrer floor. Just be keeping those schweinhund birds away from me, your new beloved Fuhrer."

"Mien new beloved Fuhrer, your dinner invitees ist done it again,"Herr Doctor Stumpfegger  jackhammered the words out of his mouth.  "They ist thrown Abu out the window of the seventh floor concierge breakfast area.  Fortunately he ist landing on the window washers scaffolding being one or two floors below. The hotel doctor is saying he ist regaining consciousness unt a few hours.  This acceptance of the new beloved Fuhrer's... you--"

"Ja ja  dummkopf, I ist knowing I ist the new beloved Fuhrer."

"I ist not being able to be sweating,"  Kommandant Porcha's voice sounding like a dentist hitting a nerve with a hot  swirling drill. "I ist thinking I ist seeing mein feet growing."

 "Jawohl, mien new beloved Fuhrer.  This ist being found next to Abu's unconscious body on the scaffold  tied to a broken plate.  Mine new beloved  Fuhrer's dinner invitation card with writing they ist accepting your dinner invitation for this evening."

"Ja ja.  This ist being Fuhrer intolerable.  I ist dealing with them this night.  This ist being the night of the Fuhrer.".

"Jawhol, but what ist being this Fuhrer night?'  Herr Doctor asked turning his Fez 'it pays to be ignorant' style.

"Ja ja.  That ist for you to be knowing unt me your new beloved Fuhrer to be finding out.  Is the Tongan thawed out yet from mien new beloved Fuhrer freezer?"

"I ist having the Tongan set on low thaw, mein new beloved Fuhrer."  "Kommandant Porcha Condor chirps  shooting Herr Doctor Stumpfegger in his Fez.  "Un Oropendala was building a hanging nest on your Fez."

"Ja ja, sehr gut Stumpfegger.  I ist having a fuhrer plan to deal with these two merengue assassins.  You unt Kommandant Porcha ist Fuhrer buffoons ist thinking  this Steve unt Magie ist being here to assassinate your new beloved Fuhrer because they ist knowing mein true identity.  But they ist here doing this to intimidate your new beloved Fuhrer from winning the World's  Merengue Underground World Championship Dancing Contest again.  But, Your New Beloved Fuhrer ist not being there if no will answer the doorbell schweinhunds. It ist driving me Fuhrer-crazy."

"It ist being un short drive,"

 "Ist somebody saying something? I, your new beloved Fuhrer ist hearing voices." Unt I ist wanting the Boobie Brothers to follow this Magie unt Steve everywhere they go unt without being Fuhrer-noticed.  Unt tell the Boobies to be keeping the Lip Reader with them.  I ist wanting daily  Fuhrer-reports.  Verbal reports dummkopfs.  No more writing reports to your new beloved Fuhrer on the side of dummkopf cows."

"Jawohl mein new beloved Fuhrer. Unt should I to release the Tongan in the hotel tonight mein new beloved Fuhrer?'  Stumpfegger, tilting his Fez to night porter style.

"Ja ja.  Nein dummkopf.  it ist being too dangerous to have the Tongan released here.  Your new beloved Fuhrer ist could be being hurt in Tongan fury.  I ist holding the Tongan unt reserve just unt case.   But first I your new beloved Fuhrer ist calling mein Fuhrer pilot Smilin' Fritz Suckel unt  the Boobie brothers, if they ist being recovered from that airport fiasco, unt take  this schwienhund Steve unt mein Liebchen unt sightseeing tour over the jungle.

 The Darien ist being a dangerous place.  But it ist being no harm coming to mein new beloved Liebchen Manja... I ist meaning Magie Carousel.  Let us be seeing how this Steve Ptah enjoys the jungle.  I ist Fuhrer dispoing of him unt keeping mein new beloved Liebchen with your new beloved Fuhrer, me.  Put un zee Tongan Protocol unto Fuhrer effect Immediately."

"It shall be done Fuhrer Immediately if not Fuhrer sooner, mein new beloved Fuhrer. But mein new beloved Fuhrer, how ist the Tongan arriving here without being seen?"

"Ja ja dummkopf.  You ist knowing the Tongan ist a shift shaper unt her love to dance  The Stroll.'  Is she ist strolling sideways she ist not being able to be seen.  That is why the Tongan must always be frozen in suspended hibernation until activated unt kept in chains."

"Change?"  Stumpfegger mumbled to himself turning his fez Trolly Conductor coin change style.  "No one ist saying anything about havingzee coins for the Tongan."

 "Ja ja. Unt I Fuhrer order Kommadant Porcha to be having mein Fedayeen Commandos to stand Fuhrer guard unt meine soiree tonight.  Unt Stumpfegger ist there being anything to be reported about mein Fuhrer listening devices only picking up my Leibchen  unt her idiot partner still ist having over-heated discussions about Scottish Parliament. This Steve Ptah must be Fuhrer insane if it ist all they ist arguing about when they think they ist being alone.  Ahhh, mein  nose.  Schweinhund pigeons."

"Nein mein new beloved Fuhrer.  The eavesdropping  Herr Gazoner technician ist reporting all ist the same unt the listening device ist Fuhrer gut.  Always un a shouting match about Scottish Parliamentary procedures. Herr Gazoner can't stand listening anymore. He ist beginning to Fuhrer  crack. "

"Ja ja.  Idiot Americans.  I ist still not Fuhrer figuring out how they won the --"

An other errant heavyweight class pigeon flew into the left eye of the new beloved Fuhrer at flank speed ending the beloved new Fuhrer's Herr Schutzstaffel's soliloquy on idiocy and cracking his sun glass in his monocle.
***

JOURNAL ENTRY:

Saturday
04 June 1994
1:41PM

Molly's (Temporarily Closed) Irish Tavern
Icelickers mall
East End of 'The Big C.'

'...a dinosaur was uncovered in downtown Cairo.'

"The Tongan worked  in a section of Beijing known as Chinatown where the Tongan was known as
'Blossac Ha'sow,' "  Commissar Otnot surmised out loud.  "The Tongan is very dangerous."

"A section in Beijing known as Chinatown you--?"  Inspector Coep'tis started to say.

"Pop. Do not forget the Tongan is also known as 'Monsieur Cacahuetes'  when the Tongan was in Chatellerault France ,"  Pluto Vance hooted his hooter. "No pop the Tongan didn't melt. I am mind-blinking the Tongan  meta-morphed into  the brief case while clouding all the patrons mashuganar minds into thinking she was the mummy case they all claimed to see.  Look at these pathetic losers Pop. It would be a cinch to cloud these nitwits minds."

"You are looking at yourself in the wall mirror again Pluto. This is a game changer?" Commissar Otnot in a voice that Columbus's lookout  on the high mast of the Santa Maria when he shouted into the misty rain "Land Ho.  "I must find out where the Tongan is now."

"What's so important about this Tongan?"  Inspector Coep'tis asked in disgusted voice as he sniffed a broken glass that contained bathtub Gin. "This stuff 'ill kill ya."

"The Tongan is an obese enigma who can crush people in a single charge.  The Tongan slowly picks up speed doing The Stroll sideways like a steam engine until she can do the last 100 yards of her charge in 4 seconds flat.  That's when she turns full frontal.  No one can survive a full frontal blow.  The Tongan has been known to charge up a narrow long flight of stairs at a ramming speed reached in 3.8 seconds in Shanghai."

"An obese Tongan flying up a flight of narrow stairway in 3.8 seconds while doing The Stroll.  Don't you think that's absurd, stupid idiotic." Inspector Coep'tis pointed out in a tone that slapped Commissar Otnot and Pluto Vance across the face that left a double welt."

"A long staircase," Pluto Vance blurted while holding the side of his face.

"What you western intellectuals do not understand my dear Inspector Anuit Coep'tis," Commissar Otnot vollied back, "is that of the mysteries of the South Pacific.  It makes the mysteries of the Orient look like  'Bad Press.'  The Tongan is always proceeded by her legend. that is why this enigma is able to move so quickly."

"Huh?  'Bad Press?' " Inspector Coep'tis grunted.  "You're... This Tongan must be an urban legend that only exists in the minds of 'The Big C' population or if any outsider drinks water in 'The Big C.' "

"Enough," Commissar Otnot snorted.  "The Tongan is no turbine engine.  Even you cannot be that dumb."  Then turning to Acid: "You... You person that has been burnt by Acid.  Where was the Tongan planning to go before the enigma melted.  You must have heard some scuttlebutt."

"Pop.  Pop.  I was watching Pointless News or somethin' like that and ace reporter Mangan somebody reported that a Dinosaur was uncovered in Downtown Cairo where they are expanding the Egyptian subway.  The Dinosaur had--"

"Interesting Pluto but not relevant to our discussion."  Commissar Otnot decried and then said something in Russian that sounded like *'D-YAW-sha-va KA POO stih.' " *Possibly: cheap cabbage?'

"I can't get to Albany in time to catch my plane now being mired in all this stupidity," Inspector Coep'tis announced.  "Does anyone hear elevator music?"

"Hey, what's a matter with you flick?"  Acid Burns demanded to know. . 'The Big C' only has the  latest B-19 Army plane that leaves from 'The Big C' airport at 2:50PM baring bad weather, every afternoon."  Acid Burns  peacock screeched.

"There's no airport in 'The Big C' " Inspector Coep'tis said as if he was reading someone their rights.

"What are you piping up about," Acid Burns hiccuped peacock style.  "Old Man Grunt's Cow Pie Pasture International Airport.  Canarge take this goofus to 'The Big C's' International Airport.' "

"Old man who--"  Inspector Coep'tis parried.

"The guy with the snow shoe sized feet," Patched Upp, blowing on his blister breakouts to keep them cool, a felonious bar patron of Molly's sniveled. "Ever since some nut 'graffitied' all Old man's Grunts  cows he gives piggyback rides to and from different places, seein' our Mahout's  rickshaw service is temporarily--"

"I'm not going take a piggyback ride to some imagined airport on some poor old guy's back with big feet  and I'm not going to let a blindfolded chef obviously suffering psychotic delusions drive me." Inspector Coep'tis fired back.  "What's wrong with you people?  Your not 'pod' people are you?" One could almost smell the sulfur  charcoal and potassium nitrate from the Inspector's breath.

 Carnarge protested talking into the ear of  bar patron witness Patched Upp.  Yes, he is known for blister attacks when he periodically panics. "Ya don't need me ta find the airport.  Just up route 7 as far as the cock crows.  And ya can see the dirigibles from the road."

"Dirigibles?" Inspector  Coep'tis spit the word out.  "they don't make--"

"Hold it," Blum der Laden Baa Baa, exploded through the door still dressed in a World War One goggled flight cap, white silk scarf, long sleeves...tan flight shirt with buttoned up collar and now summer tan Yak leather pants and well worn Yenta Yoiks Pujie Pujie boots.  "I am Blum der Laden Baa Ba... I forgot...er, ah... you may call me Horst. Molly  killed Urk our New Age leader, Assassin's and Druses of the Put Down That Phone Nobility."

"Stop drinkin' the freakin' water ya fruitcakes... let me out a hear," Inspector Coep'tis yahoo's.

"What's wrong with him?"  Acid Burns peacock strut walks in an ever tightening circle decries.

"Ahh, a tourist," Carnarge bellows as he tightens his blindfold. "Whata they know."
***

JOURNAL ENTRY:

Saturday
04 June 1994
5:45PM

Restaurant Mayan
Plaza Boulivar
Panama City, Panama

'Another pass and the owner will think those idiots are picketing the place.'

"That was a most beautiful church, Steve.  I'm so glad you took me to the Igesa San Fancisco  de Asis.  And that ancient confessional inside built in 1736 almost 250 years old.  Just  think of all the people who found forgiveness  over the centuries  I still I don't know how you knew we would run into someone there to let us in and show us around.  And a priest that could hear our confessions in that historic confessional."

"He was a Bishop," Steve said.

They are the only twosome sitting at a modified sidewalk café and restaurant sipping two late afternoon Cokes that they had the waiter  Medesto Pared, dressed in a cubic wallpaper designed shirt of pastel pink, gray and blue cubes with matching slacks and shoes, open the bottles at their table.

The table and chairs were heavy green iron, and a blue and green striped awning protected them from the slow moseying sun. The front of the establishment was red and an ancient cannon ball was being used as a doorstop to keep the glass framed portal open allowing a warm wayward breeze to enter and leave, with whiffs of fresh baked bread, without acknowledging the two sitting patrons.

"Well the Bishop looked as old as the confessional  and so knowledgeable too especially of the seventeen hundreds. He told me my soul is possessed by God and that I was traveling with an Angel who was missing a few spokes on the old wagon wheel. I don't think my Guardian Angel appreciated that. We were so lucky.  What was the Bishops name again?   It was such a long elegant name.  I was so excited--"

"Bishop Francisco Javier de Luna Victoriay Castro.  No relation to Fidel," Steve smirked.

"Idiot.  Castro is an ancient honorable name.  There are always a couple of fruitcakes in the most noblest families.  Take you for instance."

"Aw shucks Magie I ain't 'noble.'  Maybe ignoble,' Steve took a sip of his bottled Coke.

"I'd like to come back here for mass tomorrow morning," Magie sighed finishing her Coke.

"Okay, but I was thinking you might enjoy a sunrise service at the Iglesia Santo Domingo Arco Chato.  It an ancient ruin not too far from here."

"I've read about that ruin on the plane, when you dozed off and I could enjoy a moment of solitary bliss.  The article stated that the church was closed and the famous ancient Arch Chato was in danger of collapsing."

"I fell asleep? Surely you jest.  I'm sure I was probably meditating.  I'm sure there will be a mass there at sunrise tomorrow and as far as the Arch collapsing... it still has a few more years before it goes."

"Well... if you're sure there will be a mass there.  I don't want to miss Sunday mass."

"I know you don't," Steve smiled.  "You know we're being followed by those three idiots, the Boobie Brothers. I know that woman that is with them.  A lip reader. Shall we give them a Scottish Parliament session."

"Sure," Magie said.  "Wait, I hear marimba music.  Oh no, the moron in the fencing outfit coming down the street  And that ape lope of his.  That has to be Goombah Wong.  Only you could be more stupid than he is Steve."

"No time for Kudos for me Magie.  They just might be street entertainers.  A lot of folks lope-walk like that and have marimba bands follow them especially in 'Transylvania and Hollywood, let him and his band pass."

Fifteen minutes later, Magie said, in between her Scottish parliament arguing, "That's the fourth time he and his nitwit marimba band passed us."

"Playing that old marimba favorite, 'The Jerk in the Black Cape," Steve proffered  in an Orson Wells tone.

"We better be going," Steve said.  "Another pass and the owner will think he's picketing the place.  Besides we have to get ready for Herr Schutzstaffel dinner tonight."

"I don't want to wear those stupid outfits you got for us," Steve.  They make us look like idiots."

"We are idiots Magie that's our profile."

"If I'm an idiot it's only by osmosis by being so close to you as I feared... from the beginning.  Now what?"  Magie asked as sirens blared several police cars pulled up along side the Restaurant Mayan.  I'm hungry for fresh baked bread."
***

JOURNAL ENTRY:


Saturday
04 June 1994
7:00PM

In Private elvator approaching Herr Schutzstaffel Palatial Suite.
Caesar Palace Hotel 13th floor
Panama City Panama

'The hour hand on my watch is missing.'

"I'm sure that was that idiot Goombah Wong leading that marimba band dressed as an American swine fencing master just before the lights went out in the Garden of Uber Intelligence last night.  I just feel it and besides his gait is that of a not-so-great ape.  He was following us. And that was him and that marimba band at the Restaurant Mayan until the police came and arrested him and his band for picketing without a license.

"Following us," Magie.  Get real.  Who would be stupid enough to follow someone with a playing marimba band dressed in a fencing suit and loping like an ape?  I mean you'd have to be completely insane and... You sure it was Goombah Wong."

"Who else?"  Magie asked.

"We'll deal with him later," Steve whispered while adjusting his golfing cap.

Maybe we can use him and his traveling marimba band," Magie suggested her voice denoting a plan. "And do I look as stupid as you?"

"Interesting thought," Steve whispered ignoring her question.  "But why would he be following us?"

"You forgot about the roller derby team I'm scouting for my sage.  Which reminds me I have an appointment with the Panamanian Bilderbergers Roller Derby team, Heavy D got for me, tomorrow as a representative of my sage."

"Don't start with your sage that Doo Doo Fazoo stuff again.  Why is this elevator so slow?"  Steve pondered aloud.

"You think this Herr Schutzstaffel will hold Abu's accidents against us? You know Steve hotels don't have a 13th floor."

"That's one of those suburban myths like a... a... snipe hunt." Steve decreed in his decreeing voice.

  Magie standing next to Steve, and the private mirrored elevator, continued  "Huh?  Do you mean 'urban' by any chance?  I mean first Abu is knocked unconscious by our door then this morning sliding on that Bismark kids marbles over the balcony just after he handed us that engraved invitation to dinner tonight.

 I'm so glad the window washers scaffolding the floor or two below stopped his plunge.  How do I look in this wraparound Scotch plaid skirt with this big silver safety pin by Hop Scotch fashions holding it together?  My Ghilles highland dancing shoes are a bit much.  Where did you get this idiocy we're all dressed in for a semi-formal carvery  rhapsody?"

"Car berries what?  What are you complaining about now  I don't want to know."

"I still think it was a bad idea to write 'We accept your thoughtful dinner invitation for tonight'  tie it to that breakfast plate and drop it down to Abu two floors below. I'm sure it broke."

"Nonsense Magie, I'm sure he caught it.  Besides, proper protocol and all that stuff."

 "Caught it?  He was unconscious you dork.  A similar condition that you're more than a little familiar with.  Do you think this nut Herr Schutzstaffel will try to poison us or put something in our drinks Steve?"

"Probably."

"You don't sound concerned," Magie queried in a nonchalant manner.

"I'm not, he could  have a set up to release poison gas into the elevator in which we could hold our breath  Or, have the bottom of the elevator fall open which I have absolutely no counter plan to escape plummeting 13 floors straight down." Steve snapped, his voice carrying the sword of a command decision that could only spell disaster for his troops  "You cut me to the quilt Magie.  But I have a plan for the most probable scenario him poisoning us."

"Quilt?  Don't you mean... forget it.  What's this ingenious plan?"

"Simple.  I'm letting you take a bite and drink first."

"You realize Steve I will have to kill you eventually."

"Ah, watch out for those mortal sins my dear.  They have a way of giving one a humongous  permanent immolation hot foot.  I read someplace that Dolph was always doing that to his Generals during their strategic planning sessions."

"Drat,"  Magie said sticking her tongue out behind Steve's back. "I feel off balance wearing this type of Ghiile Scotch dancing shoe," Magie blurted out as Steve looked  at his white noise producing watch.

"Make sure we only drink out of the same bottle our cracked but beloved host drinks out of and examine your empty glass before anything is poured into it for shredded glass or other substances."

"I know what to do Steve.  Assassinations 101.  I received the highest marks in my training back at Edgewood Arsenal's --"

"The hour hand on my white noise producing watch is missing." Steve interrupted in a suspicious tone that sounded like the whirring of a  drained battery in a happy chime doorbell ringing.

"It's always been missing,"  Magie said holding on to Steve's right shoulder as she attempted to adjust her left Ghiille.  "What's the big deal?  You can't tell time anyway."

"It's not that I can't tell time smarty pants, it's that well time has no meaning for me.  I'm always living in the present."

"Who cares where you live. And don't start spouting about growing up in Brooklyn, with Herman's Ice Cream Parlor and Jake's candy store on Underhill Avenue. I can't take your screwball reminisces.  You know Steve I'm sure I take a size 6 in a Ghilles.  This has to be a six and a half.  These Ghillies just don't feel... well you know...aboot "

"Aboot?  You're not going Scottish on me already? We're only playing the parts of eccentric Scottish Parliament golfers.  What are you griping...?  Hey I'm wearing Tartan golf slacks and Scottish Victorian golf shoes.  Those Victorians must have been pigeon toed and you know my abhorrence toward those flying rats.   You sure I look okay?"

"We look like idiots, you moron.  If we were on a Scottish golf course we'd still look like idiots," Magie pointed out in pains.  "Why do I let you talk me into this insanity?"

"Dynamite," Steve said turning and looking at himself and Magie in the mirror elevator door.  "And that white lace blouse sets your whole Je ne sais pas thing off."  Steve adjusted the wide plaid sash over his white shirt,  Still can't get use to these knickers with these long plaid socks tucked in just below the knee."

"Not to mention that glengarry black wool cap with a red bob on the top and those two black ribbons hanging down the back." Magie said, shaking her head in the negative.  Then just as the elevator stopped on the 13th floor Steve and Magie hit each others fist and said, "Emanuel."

 Then before the great mirrored doors parted on the Palatial Palace floor to the deafening sound of Swiss Matterhorn trumpets   Magie announced to Steve, "There's that smell again like sugar sprinkled on a torrid garbage dump."

"Evil Magie," Steve whispered.  "It repels yet draws one in at the same time."

"It will be a miracle if we don't wind up in the booby hatch before the night is over,"  Magie responded in that sweet French accent.

"Ah, you recognized my presence, "  a loud voice sounding as if someone was walking over a soggy  grass lawn with big rubber boots, came from  the full mirrored hallway as the Swiss Alpine trumpets became deafening.  The hallway lined by Fedayeen commandoes standing at semi-parade rest, wearing ear plugs, as they blew into their massive trumpets;  numerous hangings of Herr Schutzstaffel portraits, from the lighted green opaque ceiling,  as well as  dripping chandeliers and a long thickly plush  red carpet with black designs of Gargoyles wearing monocles applauding the arrival of food at banquet tables by second chefs who are trained to see everything all 'Blitzkrieging'   the senses at once.  "I am Hatch Boobie he said in that swampland, galoshes sounding tone knocking  Hall Monitor Guntheri Gleeflee aside into a darkened side hall as she was introducing herself and barking 'Advance an be identi... ahhhh.".

"Herr Schutzstaffel is the man.  If he can't do it no one can."  the same group of ear plug wearing cheer leading groupies step out from behind each semi parade rest Fedayeen Commando, cheering and waving confetti strips of various colors that they used at the first attempted dinner at what use to be the Garden of Uber Intelligence still screaming hysterically while doing a modified goose stepping Can  Can.  "Herr Schutzstaffel is the man.  If he can't do it no one can," over and over again almost drowning out the Swiss Matterhorn trumpets. Then the drum and bugle ear plug wearing band of 30 marching, now uniformed, in Herr Schutzstaffel Brown shirt Youth Corps marching in a synchronized motif goose stepped escorting Magie and Steve down the rest of the hall journey.

A short shadowy figure steps out of a darkened crevice and whispered, "Hey lady, Ya want to buy a swath, I got a million of them back here."  Unfortunately, with all the noise Magie and Steve couldn't hear what he was selling.  Magie's reflexes Dim-maked the swarthy vendor embedding him back into the crevice.
***

JOURNAL ENTRY:

Saturday
7:08 PM
04June 1994

Molly's (Tempoarily Closed) Irish Tavern
Icelickers Mall
East end of 'The Big  C.'

'It has to be something in 'The Big C's' water.'

"Look, Blum der Plum whatever your name is," Commissar Otnot cried out in exasperation. "I don't have time to investigate a routine local disappearance.  I've been telling you all afternoon I'm too important to be involved in local shenanigans.  This is a job for the local gendarmerie you nitwit."

"And I'm telling you, you... you bubble headed Ivan, I Blum der Laden Baa Baa, you may call me Horst, represent the Island of Coney Nedicks the Orange Place New Age 'Put Down That Phone' nobility  movement which is setting up shop in 'The Big C' and Urk our leader is missing and it is up to INTERPOL to find our great leader.  As I've been screaming at you his human name is Reentry and he always wears a smoking jacket or... er... he is so on fire with New Age brilliance his jacket is always smoking... with... occasional bursting into flame--"

"Pop, pop... I can clear buoyant the Tongan's mind she is in a...a  nut house some place in... in... no a place near a farm of old grunts.  No a smoked ham place of old grunts.   Wait the Tongan is morphing again into a  smoking ham hock.  Wait that can't be.  My  clear buoyance is being interfered with by something, something so horrendously stupid it defies all logic.  A mind so twisted --"

"Pluto,"  Commissar Otnot belted out a soprano  tone that sent Pluto Vance, Blum der Laden Baa Baa and other witnesses into momentary convulsions and a passing dog outside into fits of uncontrolled howling. "You are looking at yourself again in that cracked wall mirror?"

"No, no you Russian cheeska brain.  Your idiot dog-son is describing our New Age leader changing his shape to a... a sweating ham hock?  Where is this farm of old grunts?"  Blum der Laden Baa Baa races out of Molly's temporary closed tavern as Pluto Vance screams,  "We must go to Panama... Pop."

"Panama," Commissar Otnot shouts.  "why must we go to--"
 
"Because now that... that jerk that thinks he is a sheep is gone my clear buoyant ability is back on the trolley tracks.  It all makes hideous sense. The dinosaur remains found on the Cairo subway, the... Pop we do not have a moment to hesitate.  We can finally track down your elusive prey--"

"You mean Parcheska Dooplechickna the politburo chiseler  that owes me 50 rubles back in Stalingrad--"

"No Pop, Tug Boat Comrade alias, Blossac Annie, alias, Monsieur Cacahuetes alias the Tongan. I'll run out and get us two tickets to Panama City," Pluto Vance yahooed. " Wait Pop.  I just realized through my clear buoyant  mind.  Pop spelt backwards is, is...er I forgot but I'll remember.  I'm off."

"Maybe that NSA fool Coep'tis is right.  Could it be 'The Big C's' water," Commissar Otnot yelled to himself as he checked his visage for wart carrying Yellow fever.  "Pluto, make that four tickets to Panama.  We The Inscrutable Ones'  are taking hostages with us."
***


JOURNAL ENTRY:

Saturday
7:10 PM
04 June 1994

Caesar Palace Hotel
Panama City Panama
Check-in Registration desk

'It's Creeper ya moron.  The Brooklyn Creeper.'

"Look ya ferbonie weasel, I told ya you got a ferbonie that's checked-in here." 'The Noggin' bellowed.  "The ferbonie holding a suite for 'The Noggin' and his goombahs."

"Actually I'm not with this group of lunatics," Myron Insolentt piped up stepping forward.  "I'm just a goombah-in-training."

"I am telling you sir we have no Ferbonie checked in here, front desk supervisor Senor Horno Cubeta pleaded.  Nor do we have a... a, Noggin or a Goombah.  perhaps you are at the wrong hotel.  Perhaps the wrong City.  Maybe the wrong Country.  We have had a rash of real sickos lately of having Panama City Panama confused with Panama City, Florida.."

"Look ya ferbonie 'The Noggin' and his ferbonie crew have been through all that. How would you like to wake up next to a leaking Barrage balloon filled with hydrogen.  Believe me ya ferbonie 'The Noggin' can do it.  What's the ferbonie idea of havin' two Panama Cities.  'The Nogin almost was hijacked in the first ferbonie Panama City.  If it wasn't for this ferbonie the Brooklyn Creep 'The Noggin' and his crew would be still stuck in that other ferbonie Panama City--"

"Creeper ya lug," The Brooklyn Creeper grunted.  "Not Creep ya mug."

"Huh?  'This creepy ferbonie from Brooklyn found a ferbonie plane in that other ferbonie Panama City, rounded up a couple of ferbonie pilots and convinced the ferbonie pilots to fly 'The Noggin' and 'The Noggin's' ferbonie crew down to this ferbonie Panama City.  'The Noggin still ain't knowin' why 'The Noggin' and 'The Noggin's ferbonie crew had to make a run for it when 'The Noggin' and his ferbonie crew had a jump out a the ferbonie aircraft and hide in the ferbonie tall grass...grass that cuts--"

"Who is this Noggin? Who is this Ferbonie? Oh, manager,  manager."

"Si Cubeta what is it?"  Heavy D rumbled up like a diesel pickup hauling used Hops.

"I have been trying to explain to this... gentleman that we have no Ferbonie registered at the Caesar Palace and there is no reservation for any Ferbonie.  Or any Noggin's."

"Do you have any bananas"  Gananadage Frau Puckarber chimed in.  "I got this urge to have a banana."

"Si, si," Heavy D said as she dismissed front desk supervisor Cubeta.  "Si, we have a banana.  Cubeta before you attend other check-ins call the kitchen and have them send up a banana for the woman wearing the hobnail jackboots.  Now you say you are looking for a Ferbonie?'

"I'm not lookin' for a ferbonie I'm surrounded with frebonies ya ferbonie--"

"Perhaps I can translate 'The Noggin's' query into English," Myron Insolentt injected himself into the verbal sparring."

"Oh yes 'The Noggin--,' " Heavy D started to say.  "We have been expecting you but not--" 

"No one calls 'The Shlogin' queer," Ganadage Frau Pucukarber blasted.  "Hey you the creep gimmie ya revolver--"

"It's 'Noggin' ya ferbonie witch.  'Noggin.' " 'The Noggin' corrected as gunfire echoed in the lobby.

"Creeper ya witless floozy kraut.  I'm the Creeper.  The Brooklyn Creeper and get ya piggy fingers off a the trigger."

"Swiss floozy kraut Mister Peeper.  I'm a witless Swiss floozy kraut.  Eat hot lead  Leaper."  Ganadage Frau Puckarber blasted.
***


JOURNAL ENTRY:

Saturday
04 June 1994
7:23PM

Herr Schuzstaffel's Palatial Suite, enormous foyer bar eventually leading to the Palatial beloved Fuhrer dinning room.
Caesar Palace Hotel
Panama City, Panama.

'Aide de Coolenzie, Aide de Coolenzie...'

"That was quite a greeting, " Steve said, his ears still ringing as he shook his head and hopped   on one leg to try and dislodge the noise that deafened his aural comprehension."

"Ja ja, it ist being only fitting for people of your importance to be greeted with the highest honors." Herr Schutzstaffel said, wearing golden fig leaf and assorted fruit and nuts Nero wreath on his Fuhrer-head complimenting  his chest full of medals on his almost phosphorous white military uniform dinner jacket with thin red, yellow and black vertical sleeve stripes continuing down horizontally  on his white military horse back riding trousers. reflecting light from the recessed overheads.

  The new beloved  Fuhrer's red fingernail polish color, paying homage to an old glass door knob size gleaming and glittering diamond ring on his right index finger (Perhaps it was an old 1930's glass door knob) coordinated the red, back and yellow shimmering stripes and black riding boots. All capped off with a formal military hat with Dead Head insignia, worn over his golden wreath, military style, all fashioned by 'The House of 'Schingle-grouper' of Argentina Military Attire for Discriminating Beer Hall Putsch Boy's Who Had Too Much To Drink.' "You ist being dressed most...  Fuhrer charmingly in your little Scottish outfit mein dear."

"What did you say?"  Steve asked, his ears still ringing.  "I think I'm deaf.  Hey Herr Schutzstaffel where'd you get that black eye?  They making the keyholes bigger?"

Ja ja...huh?  Please sit down on mein Palatial veranda. Herr Doctor Professor  Stumpfegger will bring us drinks.  I ist taken Fuhrer liberty to order mein special beloved Fuhrer drinks, a concoction of mein own beloved Fuhrer drink.  I ist hoping you ist approving."

"What did he say?"  Magie asked.  "I can't hear?"

"What?" Steve asked.  "I can't hear what you're saying Magie?  Are my ears bleeding?"

"What?  Steve look at me when you speak so I can read your  lips."

"Did you say something? I can't hear what you're saying Magie."

"Ja ja, the Fuhrer drinks have arrived," Herr Schutzstaffel said as Stumpfegger arrived with a tray of 1939 Aide de Koolenzie, opened the sealed bottle with a corkscrew and poured the drinks directly from the bottle. Steve and Magie bolted upright as Stumpfegger's botched self-inflicted plastic surgery face came into view."

"I think I got my hearing back," Steve announced.  "Don't take this the wrong way fella, but your face scared my deafness away.  Is that possible?"

"I can hear," Magie shouted in that soft sweet southern French style that only a paragon could accomplish. "Nice er... hat  er... hats  Herr Schutzstaffel."

"Ja ja, Huh?  "Oh, they ist just being something I ist throwing on at the last--"

 The sight of seeing Herr Stumpfegger at the first attempted dinner in the restaurant of Uber Intelligenge, didn't lessen the shock of the second sighting. "Oh you poor soul, plastic surgeons can do wonderful things in reshaping heads and blasting boulders."

 "Yeah," Steve said..  "Just take a gander at Mount Rushmore."

"Steve, please" Magie said trying to hold back a sneeze.  I must be sensing someone's aftershave. Is anyone wearing 'Burnt Powder?'  This person, you Herr Stumpfegger, is a candidate for the tetartohedral procedure."

"Unt what ist this procedure ist being?"  Ludwig Stumpfegger demands in old Prussian tones."

"Prehistoric protocol," Steve volunteered examining his drink for any signs of shredded glass.  "Very hush hush."

"Please excuse my dance partner," Magie sighed in a soft southern French drawl.  "He has been diagnosed clinically stupid by a House of Griddles.  Simply stated it's a medical procedure having 1/4 of the face required by the maximum symmetry of the system to which it belongs.  It has been known to do wonders for your situation."

Finally,  Magie  could not hold back her sneeze any longer. She  lightly touched her beautiful Greek sculptured  nose with a lace handkerchief, a sneeze so soft it could hardly be noticed

"Blasphemer," Abu Bakar Bashir cried to the heavens.  "Your sneeze ist sounding like Albert choo."  Abu began to do a dance pulling his white dishdasha up to his knobby knees.  The dance included intermingling the fingers of both hands into a clove hitch as he spat out garbled words.  "Your sneeze offended Albert choo The Almost Great Except He Was Not Very Good,  you infidel." Abu screamed Blasphemer. Blasphemer."

"Abu, Abu, first grade baby stick your head in gravy."

"Who said that?"  Abu demanded to know.  "The voice seem to come from one of the great Chandeliers off the veranda.  "Is that you Albert choo?  My Captain Midnight socks... there gone.  Someone stole my Captain Midnight, America's Greatest Hero, socks right off my feet," Abu's voice was so high it broke a nearby empty cordial.

"Take it easy Abu, now who is this guy Big Al you say Magie's sneeze offended?"  Steve asked in a voice so calming it made everyone want to shoot themselves.  "And as for Captain Midnight socks I'm sure Magie here would love to knit a pair for you.  Can you describe them?"

"Steve, you're leaving us again," Magie said through closed teeth.  "Why don't you come back to earth and join us again.  I'm not knitting any--"" 

"Big Al you..."Abu rocketed into a fit of uncontrolled hysterics and convulsions until Stumpfegger struck him on his bean with a wooden mallet.  Abu sunk back into one of numerous Palatial chairs and went Dodo for a moment or two. "Now what ist this being about this procedure?" Stumpfegger asked, adjusting  his Fez Great Inquisitor style as he snake slithered the mallet up his long white sheeted arm.

"Is  Abu going to be okay?"  Magie asked as she seemed to glide over to Abu's chair.

"Ja ja.  Let me be being telling you for mein black eye boo boo," Herr Schutzstaffel started to say.  "It ist seeming un schwenhund pigeon is flying into-"

"Like I said, Stumpfegger," Steve reminded all parties.  "Shadow protocol.  Who is this Albert?""
       
"Ja ja,  he ist being fine  No one ist being Albert, un kumquat he ist being meeting while climbing a tree on the old Indonesian Island of Nias."

"A kumquat," Magie said," Her timbre carried the sting of a wet reed lash. "His easily offended friend he said that I blasphemed is a piece of fruit.  That is really stupid."

"I have to agree with Magie," Steve interjected a moment of his kind of sanity.  "A rainbow or complimentary fabric I could see. And I have no idea what we are talkin' about."  Steve's closing sentence was accented in a shrill.

 Abu ist waking up un a moment unt ist not remember anything." Herr Schutzstaffel Fuhrer spat. "...ist being very uninteresting. Stumpfegger, no one ist being caring about your procedure. Shall we ist drinking, a sip of mein Aide de Coolenzie most people ist mistaking for 1812 Nepolian  brandy, to me and my winning again the worldwide underground merengue championship."

"Just a Mortimer," Steve said.  "Since the time of my good friends the Borgia's, Borgia protocol demands the head of the household takes first sip.  And then of course my merengue partner Magie, just to be doubly sure."

"Thanks Steve. You're so gallant," Magie growled under her breath in that sweet, syrupy southern French accent.

Frau Guntheri Gleeflee, who had been out in the palatial laundry room frantically searching for Abu's Captain Midnight socks received a Fuhrer Alert message by laundry phone  and was sticking her head out from behind a large vase making hideous faces at  Herr Stumpfegger to grab his attention.  Finally, using herculean strength, she threw the large blue on white with red Chinese characters, Ming Dynasty, missing from Nepal section of the Swiss Embassy just before the fall of Berlin, vase at him knocking his Fez off as he dazed-stumbled in her direction leaving the echo of the thunderous sound of ceramic porcelain  shattered over the Fuhrer-floor as vase met skin and cranium.

"What was that?" Magie asked curiously but calmly a hint of annoance in her tone.

"What was what?"  Steve asked, then continuing, "So true.  I am gallant in a humble sort of way."  After the initial greeting sip Steve murmured, "Ya know when I was a kid, growing up in Brooklyn, we use to have a jingle for stuff that taste like this--"

"Aren't you being premature about having a victory drink Herr Schitzstaffel?"  Magie challenged, attempting to ignore Steve's stupidity, this time her demure had the sting of a Oklahoma cowboy's leather glove for dealing with barbwire fences. Everyone rubbed their right cheek.

Herr Doctor Professor Stumpfegger dazed as he placed his dented Fez back on his head and crunching broken Ming Dynasty vase scraps as he walked mumbling something about getting his Fez blocked  returned and whispered into the eye of Herr Schutzstaffel as he was know seeing double. "Mein new beloved Fuhrer, gunfire ist being reported at the check-in desk downstairs--"

"Ja ja dummkopf.  Stopenzee talking into mein Fuhrer-eye. I ist knowing this check-in desk for peasants ist being downstairs.  Israeli Commandos?"

"Nein mein new beloved Fuhrer."

"Russian shock troops?"

  "Nein mein new beloved Fuhrer.  It ist being reported by Trap unt Prize Boobie.  Usual American tourist patter."

"Anything  wrong?" Magie asked running her finger over the rim of her glass.

"Ja ja.  Nein nein.  Ist just being the usual hotel overbooked check-in drama.  Now ast I ist saying about mein blackenzie eye it ist being nothing to be doing  with makenzie the key holes bigger. It ist being ab--" "

"Now as I was saying Herr Schutzstaffel when I was a kid back in Brooklyn  we use to have a jingle for a drink that taste like this:  Aide de Coolenzie, Aide de Coolenzie five cents a--"

"No one cares," Magie machete throws a smile at Steve."

"Ja ja. What ist I was... Now allow me to be presenting my new beloved Fuhrer staff, This ist mien Fuhrer official hall monitor und beer hall Putsch Frau Guntheri Gleeflee."

"Grub Deckung mein Herr und Frau--"

"Fraulein," Magie corrected."

"Ah sehr gut, " Guntheri Gleeflee said.  "I ist being worried for ein moment.  We ist meeting as you ist getting off un elevator door."

"Yes, we saw you for a moment before you vanished into  a dark side hall."  Magie exclaimed.

"I ist not liking light," Hall Monitor Guntheri Gleeflee hissed.

"Of course you don't," Steve blurted in a whisper.  "And now the taste of this drink reminds me of a--"

"Ja ja, unt this ist being  Commandant Porcha, Ober Fuhrer body guard for mein Fuhrer security."

"Grub Deckung." Commandant Porcha gasped sliding  slowly to the floor her eyeballs sinking up and back into her forehead.  "I ist being unable to sweat." A thud then silence.

Steve looked at her as if he recognized something about her.  Perhaps the size of her size 17 double E clown feet.

"Ja ja, unt I ist believing you ist all ready meeting Herr Hatch Boobie mein confidential secretary."

"Yes," Magie said in a tone that could only be described as the playing a snake charmer's  flute."

"Secretary," Steve challenged.  "How many words a minute in Greg shorthand?"

"Huh?"  Hatch Boobie's elegant reply encircled the group in a destructive G flat tone.

"Ja ja.  Unt this ist being of course Abu Bakir Bashir, mein hearty Fuhrer messenger unt under Fuhrer commander for mein Fedayeen Commandos. I ist believing you ist  met un couple of times."

Grub Deckung Blasphemers ,' Abu said reluctantly, forcing the greeting around a lonely  tooth as he studied  the above chandelier. "You have the honor of addressing--"

"Just in passing," Steve said simpatico.  "Yes the great taste of your 1939 brew brought that jingle out of my dusty past. Aide de Coolenzie  Aide de --"

"Stumpfegger, you ist being mein lawyer,' Abu Bakar Bashir cried out in pain.  "Getenzie me out of this evening's Blasphemous dinner seating arrangements.  Putenzie me at un children's table at the end of the new beloved Fuhrer's grandiose adult table so I can eat my German version of Goat Cheese Terrine  'Potato Cheese Terrine' in peace.  These two idiots are dangerous.  No Fuhrer offense."

"I'm sure Herr Schutzstaffel and the sleeping Commandant Porcha took no offense old chap," Steve said cheerfully imitating a sitting golf swing.

"I ist speaking of you unt the beautiful Frau."

"Fraulein,  Herr Bashir" Magie corrected.

"Ah, sehr gut," Abu Bakar Bashir peeped.  "I ist being worried. Have we met before?'

"Dinner is ready."  Fuhrer Chef Isis gonged.

"Ja ja, allow me to be escorting you into mein Palatial dining area," Herr Schutzstaffel blares as he steps over Commandant Porcha's prone un-sweating frame.  "We  ist having potato pancakes, potato sauerkraut, potato dumplings  unt potato soup, potato salad und white potato toast.  Unt for desert potato cake Swiss a la mange.

"A la Mange? The food sounds deadlier than the..."  Steve started to say

"Nix on the white potato toast," Commandant Porcha moaned. "I ist eating it alls."

"Ja ja.  Dummkopf.  schweinhund.  That ist being special for... Neverzeemind."

"I ist hoping Chef Isis ist serving Potato Peche Melba for desert," Hatch Boobie chimed, as he seem to be looking for something that was lost in his beard.

"Ja ja, Poopchen Manja... I mean Magie you ist so beautiful  you ist reminding me of--"

"Well thanks Herr Schutzstaffel," Steve said, taking the new beloved Fuhrer by the arm. "No one ever called me beautiful before.  Wait a Mortimer you're not a soprano type--"

"I ist not being in conversation with you. Notinzee  you," Herr Schutzstaffel snapped, rejecting Steve's arm gesture.  "I ist Fuhrer speaking to your charming dancing partner.  You ist knowing mein dear Manja... I ist meaning Magie  you must be allowing me the new beloved Fuhre to read the bumps on your head.  I ist a--"

"Shouldn't we pick up your Commandant Porcha," Magie said in a concerned but calm pitch.

"Ja ja.  You must learn I ist not like being interrupted in the middle of my sent--  'because I ist-- a dummkopf.'  I ist not saying that."

"I don't think you're a dummkopf," Magie said.  "Not yet anyway.  Shouldn't we help your  security chief up.  At least see if Commandant Porcha is alive."

"Ja ja.  Commandant Porcha ist just ah...er meditating.  Now about me  the new beloved Fuhrer.  I ist not liking anyone to interrupt  the new beloved Fuhrer in the middle of mein Fuhrer sent--""

"Steve please bring the meditating body into the Palatial dining area."

"Ja ja.  I ist not saying I ist a dummkopf.  Someone else said 'I ist a dummkopf.' "

"But the words ist being coming outenzie of your beloved Fuhrer mouth," Stumpfegger said, in a 'pleading his case to a jury' tone while turning his Fez J'accuse style.

"Ja ja, unt I it ist being seemingly so.  Unt I ist beloved Fuhrer 'forbading' for anyone to interrupt me as I ist being in the middle of unt Fuhrer sentence  Unt I ist not speak--"

"You know Herr Schutzstaffel," Steve said walking behind them as he is dragging the limp body of Commandant Porcha, followed by the rest of the new beloved Fuhrer's army "I'm told I have real peculiar bumps on my head."

"Ja ja. I ist not being interested in the bumps on your head,  I ist saying I the new beloved Fuhrer ist not liking being interrupted in the middle of mein Fuhrer thought--'I ist a dummkopf.' "

"There you said it again," Magie pointed out in a sympathetic dripping of mockery.  "I wish you would stop calling yourself an idiot.  It ist very annoying."

"Ja ja but  I ist not saying I ist being un Dumm--".

"You know Herr Schutzstaffel you remind me of that Aide de Coolenzie drink growing up in the jungle  streets of Brooklyn, 352 St. Johns Place apartment 2C to be exact back then in the 1940's and 50's my phone number was Sterling 9-4592 my zip code was a simple 38.  Now I suppose it's all complicated with that meaningless 120 before it; Aide de Coolenzie, Aide de Collenzie five cents a glass.  If you don't like it shove it up your--"

"Steve," Magie's voice throws a stunning uppercut to Steve's jaw.  "Decorum.  Please.  And moron, no one cares where you grew up or your stupid phone number in the 40's, or, your stupid zip code.  Now Herr Schutzstaffel, that accent--"

"Ja ja. I ist knowing.  Mein name ist use to be being Herr O'Schutzstaffel, originally  from County Blarney, Ireland."

"I suspected that," Magie's tone oozed syrupy French/Irish molasses.

"You ist being very Fuhrer clever to be picking that up mein dear.  It ist being that most people ist thinking I ist being from the Irish section of Boston.  You ist knowing mein Fuhrer love for baked Boston Fuhrer beans."

"Easiest  nut I ever cracked," Magie's tone now showed nonchalant.

As they begin to enter the Palatial dining area there is a loud banging on Herr Schutzstaffel Palatial Suite..
 ***

JOURNAL ENTRY:

Sunday
05 June 1994
4:30 AM

Honeymoon Suite
9th Floor
Caesar Palace Hotel
Panama City, Panama

'I do believe we are all wanted for Air piracy.'

Look ya ferbonies stop playin' that jumping miranda stuff, ya ferbonies." 'The Noggin' munches banana sandwich as he and his crew, except for The Brooklyn Creeper are still dressed in their safari outfits. "Ya know what it cost 'The Noggin' ta bail ya ferbonies  out of that ferbonie hoosegow?  What were you ferbonie idiots doing picketing that ferbonie  restaurant?"

'The Noggin's' voice was loud to overcome the TV playing in the background stuck on the Southern Command station due to members of the Marimba band fighting over what channel to watch while chowing down on Cream cycles. Southern Command was reporting on a hijacking of an aircraft from Panama City, Florida and a short gun battle when the plane landed at Tocumen Airport, Panama City, Panama and was routed to a distant runway far from the main terminal before the terrorist escape into elephant swamp grass.  The pilots forced to fly here gave descriptions of the desperados...

"But 'Noggin' ya told me ta find a band and follow ya sweetie and that idiot Ptah without them knowin' Nothin'. Me and the marimba band boys were followin' your--"

"Ferbonies.  Imbeciles."  'The Noggin's beet red ears waving like they were sending semaphore signals again.   "I ain't givin' any goombah orders about hirin' a band to follow or picketing any ferbonie place  'The Noggin's' sweetie is at.  Where is 'The Noggin's' swivel chair?"

 As Phibbs takes the 'The Noggin's' swivel chair out of it's special case and set it up in one of the honeymoon suite foyer halls 'The Noggin' dives for it, adjust his seat strap and begins to fill his cheeks with air preparing for a big blow as his chair begins to spin.

SOUTHERN COMMAND TV STATION: Captain Francois DuBoise stated: 'Me and my copilot Snuffy Smith were  warming up the 'Brown Beauty' it was a twin engine 1973 B55, modified  to carry a heavier load, Baron aircraft in Panama City, Florida when we boarded by a group terrorist not only were they all wearing Safari outfits except for one guy dressed like a 1930's gunsel but they all talked funny except for one heavy set guy who was so big they had trouble getting him to the aircraft door.  The  round balloon shape guy kept yelling something about wanting to be disconnected.  We figure the obese guy was a hostage they grab from a  meandering  circus.  Obviously they were all insa....'

"Ya mean it was a rubber band," Goombah Wong said, scratching his head.  "I got plenty of rubber bands all over just in case I heard wrong 'Noggin'.

"May I remind you sir last time you went into a spinning blow you screwed your head into a recessed ceiling light and electrocuted yourself.  Please allow me to anchor your goombah chair to the floor,
 Phibbs arrogantly pleaded as only Royals can do."

"Ahhh shut up ya big bag of ferbonie wind," 'The Noggin' began to goombah speak again out of the side of his mouth as his words seem more and more unintelligible the faster he spun upwards.  And you ya ferbonie Goombah Wong Report:

What is happening with 'The Noggin's roller derby team.  Has Magie made contact yet  with the Panamanian Bilderbergers skaters.  And you ya Ferbonie I ain't seein' that ferbonie Carlos 'The Jackass' Ilich Sanchez Ramirez  in front of me ya ferbonie.  I'm goin' for an emergency blow ya ferbonies.  I want answers ya ferbonies."

"I want to go home," Myron Insolentt also pleaded.  "I tell ya I don't want to connected to this fractured goombah idiocy any more."

"Huh 'Noggin'?" Goombah Wong answers. "Hey 'Noggin' who's the guy with the funny hat?"

"You cud chewing about me," The Brooklyn Creeper growled.  "Listen ya Bozo's if ya want to follow this canary and her boyfriend all ya gots ta do is wear a disguise like this idiot in the Mummy suit here.  You'd be great as a Organ grinder 'Nutman' and this rotund guy here could be ya chimp...a medically obese chimp.  And as for me I'm cuttin' myself in on this heist.  Non of ya screwy targets know me, so I'll be myself.  But I want in on the action."

"I'm not going to disguise myself as a Organ grinders obese monkey," Myron Insolentt said.

"Did someone say chimp?'  Goombah Wong';s forked tongue searched the air for simian spoor.

"Look ya ferbonie you're a goombah in training Insolentt ya febonie.  Ya'll do what 'The Noggin' says ya doin' ya ferbonie. And Beeper, my name is 'The Noggin'.  Get it ya ferbonie."

"Sure 'Dobin' I get it.  But the Creeper ain't no ferbonie."

"If I hear that word 'ferbonie' again I'll scream,"Myron Insolentt shouted.  "I don't want to be connected anymore.  No more goombah connections. Pleasseee.  You're all nuts. And that's being kind." 

"Hey you a goombah, Mister Brooklyn Peeper?  No non-goombah yaps at Goombah Wong like that.  And for your info it's an American swine fencing suit. Not a mummy suit. I'm a American swine fencing master and this is my marimba crew ta follow 'The Noggin's' sweetie just like 'The Noggin' ordered... I think, Mister Peeper."

" 'Creeper' ya sow boy.  If this old kraut broad Broomhilda Puckaber ain't taking my gat out a my hand  and that big check-in broad  Heavy D ain't takin' my gat out a mutt Broomhilda Puckaber's hand I'd make a Swiss cheese slice out a ya.  I'd fill ya navel with so much hot lead ya--"

"Yeah," Goombah Wong snapped.  "The joke's on ya Sweeper, I ain't never been in the navy."

"It's Ganadage Frau ya Weeper.   Mister Foggin' ya spinnin' too fast again," Ganadaga Frau Puckarber screamed.  "Ya gonna take off.  Ya doctors at the nut house told ya no more emergency blows ya not a submarine."

"Gentlemen, Gentlemen and Ganadaga Frau Puckarber, is that not the aircraft we landed in Panama on TV?" Phibbs asked in his pompous quiet-right British accent.  "I do believe we are all wanted for air piracy.

"My name is 'Noggin' ya kraut ferbonie lunkheaddddd.....  What? Air pir....." 'The Noggin' never finished his goombah slurred speech bellowing as he flew spinning  out of the foyer in a bizarre emergency blow like a berserk child's top.
***

JOURNAL ENTRY:

Sunday
05 June 1994
5:34AM

Approaching Iglesia Santo Domingo Arco Chato Ruins on foot
Old section,
Corner of Avenida A and Calle 3 
Panama City, Panama

'Angels and Saints Magie.  Angels and Saints.'

"I thought that dinner  went quite well except for your idiot Cloakroom colleague Forrest Green, shrimper to the world delivering a kitchen sink to Herr Schutzstaffel's door almost knocking it down.  How did he get through all of the... beloved new Fuhrer's security?'

"That wasn't just any sink," Steve said absentmindedly as his built-in situation awareness scoured the area. "It was the one you ordered at the airport.  I wonder if you got the duty free discount."

"I er... ah,  don't remember ordering a kitchen sink in that madhouse you created.  However I have the perfect place for it and the color 'Octave Maroon' is just what I want.,"  Magie slugged back as she did a modified 'crazy Ivan' to make sure no one was following them in the early dawn mist.

"Octopus Maroon?"  Steve questioned like a befuddled Egyptian chiropractor  would.  "I don't even know what color that is."

"Of course you don't Steve it's beyond your limited capabilities.  And it's Octave Maroon,, a Norge 1938 practically indestructible kitchen sink.  You can't find one of these back in the States particularly in that color."

"I hate to brake it to your giant brain but there is no such color."

"And I hate to brake it to you I'm not paying for it. I'm not paying for it. And I'm not paying the excess baggage fee.  But I am impressed how the gay shrimper to the world and his two idiot cohorts got it up to Herr Schutzsatffel's door without--"

"It's an old Cloak  Room secret Magie, before I tell you I must swear you to secrecy."

"Oh right, like I'm going to blab it on 'The Big C's' Laundromat's bulletin board you bean brain."

Steve gave her one of those sad little puppy eyes look."We at the Cloak Room keep it simple.  We just walk backwards everyone thinks we're leaving."

"I don't even know why I asked.  Your idiocy is only exceeded  by your stupidity."

"Aw shucks Ma'am you're making me blush."

"You know Steve, while you were trying to explain to Commandant Porcha when she woke up at the dinner table where she was the beloved Fuhrer, who kept calling me Manja invited me to a day of sun and fun on his yacht 'The Thirteenth  Ordinance' tomorrow but I told him I couldn't  come until Friday?"

"There is something about that Porcha I... Huh?  Why...  One of our objectives is to get on that tub.  Never mind.  Playing hard to get will make him more anxious. Why not tomorrow?  We are entirely free--"

"Not entirely, tomorrow, Heavy D, got me an appointment with the Panamanians Bilderbergers Roller Derby team to set up a meeting with my sage Doo Doo."

"That idiot criminally insane sage of yours? , Heavy D told us this morning before we left that the whole menagerie arrived last night when we were at dinner.  Those morons are all wanted for hijacking."

"I don't appreciate you calling my sage a criminally insane, Steve. But I draw the line at moron. Of course your contacts down here will not suspect them. And if they do,  get all charges dropped. Right.  You know they're not street smarts enough to hijack an aircraft.  Heavy D suspects it was that Brooklyn Creeper guy they met when they got off in the wrong Panama City."

"Probably so but I can't work miracles, Magie.  "That group are nuttier than you are."

"You may not be a thaumaturge  but I'm sure your contacts can and I don't mean that numbskull Forest Green, gay shrimper to the world."

"I never said I was a tambourine?  I don't even know what tambourine playing has to do with... Okay wise guy you are seeing way too much in me.  I'm just a guy from Brooklyn without any musical talent.  Hey did you  get me an invite to on the Thirteenth Ordinance with you? I won't let you go alone."

"Why Steve I think you care about my safety. What are you talking about tambourines?  No. Don't explain  it to me.  I couldn't take it.  It took a bit... well actually a lot of maneuvering but I wrangled you an invite.  I told him we had to practice our dancing this week as we acclimatize  ourselves and I hinted I may dance with him the merengue aboard his yacht."

"You know what this creep is really after," Steve said in a low whisper.

"No. What Steve.  Ya know I heard some guys invite a woman up to their place to show them their etchings.  The new beloved Fuhrer invited me to his yacht not only for a day of swimming and fun but to see his pachyderms ."

"Packawhat?  Why don't you just say elephants like we normal folks cozy up to.  Just be careful.  We are dealing with pure evil here.  Don't forget, and please don't show him any of those moves Datu taught us."

"I'm still wearing my Brown clothed Scapular, in fact when the new beloved Fuhrer was talking with me on his bird nest encrusted veranda last night while you were dealing with those other screwball monsters my Scapular slipped out between that idiotic blouse you had me wear and as soon as he saw it he looked as if he just bit into a lemon."

"That's the third time you called Herr Schutzstaffel the new beloved Fuhrer Magie.  You're not going Nazi on me."

"Yeah, right.  This guy makes me feel like I'm walking in a snake pit.  He wanted to get closer to me all last evening.  You know what, he felt the presence of the Scapular or at least my Rosary. He prefers I call him th new beloved Fuhrer.  I'm  just trying to schmooze him."
    
"Just don't get too close to the fire Magie."

"Oh look Steve," Magie said as they stepped out of the mist and into the sun's glorious mega-  explosions hurling its continuous tongues of fire hundreds of thousands of miles into space eight minutes later bringing light and warmth to earth. "That must be the church.  The ruins of  Iglesia Santo Domingo Arco Chato.  The Arch is so majestic. I can't believe it's hundreds of years old. But their are people there all ready we must be late mass must have began."

"No Magie,"  Steve said in a happy tone.  "We are right on time."

"Listen Steve, music and singing... it's... it's the Tantum Ergo so beautiful but where is it coming from?"

"From heaven Magie, where else.

"It sure sounds like it  But that's usually sung during Benediction?"

"Oh, I don't think there is any rule that we can't enjoy hearing it anytime.  The music and singing is so enjoyable," Steve noted in an unconcerned voice.

 "But, why are  many of the folks here dressed like people of various ancient times?"  Magie sounded engaged in the goings on.  Is it some sort of Pagent going on with this sunrise Mass?"

"In a way.  Some are very poor.  Some not so poor."

"But they look...  I don't know... strange in some way but very happy.  Who are they."

"Angels and Saints Magie.  Angels and Saints."
***

JOURNAL ENTRY:

Monday
06 June 1994
6:18AM

'The Noggin's' Crowded Honeymoon Suite
Caesar Palace Hotel
Panama City, Panama.

'Make it a Goombah Cape ya ferbonie.'

"Okay ya ferbonies,' 'The Noggin', still dizzy from his berserk emergency blow last evening and seeing double,  rooster crows rallying his troops as he stepped out of the honeymoon boudoir that he confiscated.  The rest of his crew including the marimba band members the four dock workers that carry the xylophone around as it is being played and the Brooklyn Creeper are spread out sleepin' in various places from the luxurious bathroom, long decorated cupid foyer, closets with so much space Doctor Myron Insolentt got lost in one as he was looking for a way out.  Fortunately Goombah Wong had an emergency flare  and found the good doctor mumbling to himself in a far corner of the closet.  Claimed he was looking for Rootie Kazootie's dog Galapuchi Pup.

When the firemen arrived they asked Goombah Wong why he didn't use one of the many flashlights the safari-looking group had with them.  "Gosh fellas, I didn't thinks of that.  We're on safari.  I means I can't thinks of everything."  Luckily 'The Noggin's' Plutonium credit card saved the night.

" 'The Noggin' is sayin' okay ya ferbonies here's how it's gonna happen.' How many ferbonies we got stayin' in 'The Noggin's honeymoon suite? Goombah Wong, you take goombah-in-training and follows Magie today and let 'The Noggin' know if she's makin' contact with that ferbonie roller derby team the Bilderbergers--"

"No, no take someone else," Doctor Insolentt  pleaded.  "I can't take being blown up hospitalized in a nut ward again.  My feet haven't heeled yet from the last riot in the 'Big C' Private Emergency Receiving Hospital, or, the immolation of my feet by that Nazi thug-nut Gandage Frau Puckarber and besides according to the TV we're all wanted for Air Piracy that idiot The Brooklyn Sweeper got us involved in."

"Creeper, ya tubby. The Brooklyn Peeper... I mean Creeper ya--"

"Don't call me a Nazi thug-nut balloon boy.  I'm a Swiss- nut ya--"  Then ganadage Frau screams.  "It's Ramone, he's back...and he brought some of his bird friends.  He's on the veranda."

"Who?" Everyone asked in various languages including Brooklynees as they all turn toward the veranda.

"Made ja look.  Made ja look,"  Ganadge Frau Puckarber said sticking her tongue out.

"Shad up ya ferbonies, 'The Noggin' goombah shouts as he draws a Derringer pistol from under the baggysleeve of his Chinese Dragon straight jacket style pajamas with his old  matching Dragon pointy toe Elf slippers making laryngitis Dragon roars as 'The Noggin'  quick-time marches in place. You do that again ya... 'The Noggin' 'ill show ya Ramone ya halfwit--"

"Where's my revolver?"  The Brooklyn Creeper growls.  "Did you ya grandma Frau nut case take my revolver again, after that Heavy D gave my gat back to me without slugs and she bent my barrel, when I was singin' that 1920's Brooklyn hit 'Alla' by Mme. Nazimova in the shower ya miserable--"

"I took it," Phibbs spoke up in haughty British as if he were announcing the arrival of the Queen.  "I couldn't sleep last night so I took the only suitable metal I could find, took it out on the veranda  behind all the potted plants melted it down and made toy soldiers like I use to do for my young charge Rasputin in the Punjab."

"Wha... Is this guy talkin' American?  What in the MaGoo did he say?  Youse guys ain'ts pod peeps are ya--" The Brooklyn Creeper yapped and yapped. "Who won the 1936 World Series.  Any jamoke from this planet would know that."

"When was this 1936 ya yappin' about wise guy?"  Goombah Wong demanded to know  as his forked tongue searched the air for a familiar sent.. "I'm pickin' up the sent of money spore."

'The Brooklyn Creeper rubs the stubble on his chin.  "What year was 1936 in, hmmm?  Okay 'wiesenhammer' ya got me on that one.  I didn't think you was that brainy.  I guess you guys are from earth all right.  Maybe I'm dis pod peep... we is on earth... right?""

"Shadup ya ferbonie."

" 'Noggin' I'll take the marimba band with me to follow Magie like ya ordered," Goombah Wong belted the words out like he was singing 'Me and My Shadow.'  Still dressed in his American swine master fencing attire.

"Ditch the band ya ferbonie.  And when you ferbonies get back here clean up all these ferbonie rubber bands.  'The Noggin' never goombah ordered ya ferbonies to get any kind a bands.  And you ya ferbonie Goombah Wong you is just lucky 'The Noggin' ain't finding that jerk in the black cape ya think ya married.  And Phibbs get  'The Noggin' wheels.  'The Noggin' and the rest of you ferbonies are gonna follow Goombah Wong and Insolent who 'ill be following Magie.  'The Noggin' is gonna fade back a little.  I ain't wantin' Magie or that ferbonie Ptah to know they're being tailed by the Noggin.' "

" 'Noggin' I ain't married ta no jerk in a black cape.  That's just the only marimba tune my marimba boys know how to play to welcome tourist at the airport."

"Look ya ferbonies and look goombah good.  Ya know how many ferbonies are in this ferbonie honeymoon suite.  Old math... Fourteen  ferbonies  maybe 28.  New core math 517 if 'The Noggin's eyes stop spinnin' and  including these four dock workers and then 'The Noggin.'  Ditch the marimba ferbonies and the dock workers.  And change that ferbonie sissy fencing suit and mask ya got drapped on ya.  It's gettin' goombah-ripe in here.

Now listen up ya ferbonies: Goombah Wong  tellin' 'The Noggin' that 'The Noggin's' sweetie and that ferbonie Ptah are on the Communist level of this hotel--"

"I believe you mean Concierge level 'Noggin,' "  Doctor, professor Myron Insolentt in his best 'know it all' timbre.  "There is no Communist level."

"Shad up ya ferbonie  'The Noggin' and  his minnows don't use ferbonie words like that.  We are a family here we follows goombah-values ya febonie."

"What word? Do you mean, 'The Noggin' and his minions not minnows by any chan--

"Phibbs puts the slug on  Myron Insolentt who exits stage floor left with a thud.

"Okay 'Noggin',"  Goombah Wong goombah grunts. "I sees some monkeys eyein' an instant pirate costume hangin' on the wall of the gift shop down stairs.  I always wanted ta yell the world 'Shiver ya Timbers.'  ta any passing apes."

"You know 'Noggin,' " Myron Insolentt wined sarcastically as he pulled himself up from the thick white carpeted  floor with ingrained hearts with arrows  through them and feeling his left eye swell.  "Maybe you should hire the marimba band to follow you around.  A person of your status should have marimba players for dramatic effect when you speak. Just imagine the epic orchestral punch your words will have."

"Aw these ferbonies only know how to play 'The Jerk in the Black Cape.  And 'The Noggin' ain't got no black cape.  What are all these ferbonies names anyway?"

""Ah, Senor 'Noggin,' "  one of the marimba's said. "Sorry but we are not important enough to have names.  We are just known as the Norbert Luffawash Choir."  The four brawny dock workers mumbled something that sounded like 'eye drops.'  Or, perhaps 'Lamb chops?' "

"The absence of a black cape can be easily remedied, 'Sir Noggin,'  Phibbs pointed out in that 'better than thou' accent.  "I will purchase a black cape for you with plush red royal lining to befit a 'Goombah Noggin' of your importance."

"Royalty, hmmmm., Okay ya ferbonie but make sure it's a Goombah Cape."
***

JOURNAL ENTRY:

Monday
06 June 1994
8:49AM

Old French Airplane Hangar From the French Attempt of Building the Canal. Now the Simone Simone Roller Skating Rink. Near Old Airport, de Las Bovedas - Casco
Old Section
Panama City. Panama

'Stop playing with the Bushmaster snake.'

"I would have never found this place without your help," Magie said in a curious but controlled voice.  She is wearing a soft cotton light blue elegance in simplicity dress, by 'Off the Rack.' and matching ankle-high 'snakers' for merengue dancers by 'Unknown.'  " It's right on the Bay.  How  you know it was here?' "

"This is were they held the old roller skating Conga Line dances years ago.  Many Conga Line dancers 'Congaed' off the old wooden deck taking the whole Conga line with them during the black outs all disappearing into the easily miffed  night sea."

"You're such an idiot.  Conga lines  easily offended night sea."

"What's the name of the character Heavy D told you to see?"  Steve asked, in his light tan Thrift Store  slacks designed by 'Donations' white cotton long sleeve 'All Labels Removed' shirt, tan RR cowboy boots and a 'Simple & Plain' dark blue baseball cap without any insignia on it, as he slowed in the field they just entered to grab a Bushmaster behind its head that was catching some morning rays.

"Will you leave those poor reptiles alone Steve. Now put the beautiful creature down without hurting him.   Is that the hangar way over there?"

"Yeah, it looks like it," Steve said putting one of the most poisonous snakes in Central America gently back down as the Bushmaster tried to wriggle its head around so it could sink those inch and a half fangs into Steve's hand as he released the hissing head removing his hand mongoose fast. "Now that's one angry snake. He'll slow down any followers. Is that hamburger I smell?'

"So what ya think Steve?  Is this screwball really Bormann?" Magie asked softly in a French Irish accent that spit suave-fire.

"He's nutty enough.  Bormann is, or, was a conniving evil genius.  Always stayed in the background.  He wasn't stupid enough to become a leader in the Third Reich menagerie but always next to the top man Dolph.  But now he seems to be out front which is out of character for the old Bormann.  Maybe telomere experiments would cause a change in his character as you've been suggesting ?  Did you get another  chance to feel his shoulder area to see if there is any bumps from when he broke his collarbone?"

"No I didn't feel his collarbone, moron. And I don't plan to.  According to the inexact records we have the collarbone didn't heal properly so we should be able to see it on his yacht.  But... he does have short hairy fingers and that what?  A beer hall broken bottle scar on his left cheek. Built like an ox, Five foot five and balding.  It's like he and his idiot groupies were frozen in time.

Ya know Steve, maybe if Herr Schutzstaffel if he is Bormann is playing us.  You're always reminding me how easy it is for the hunter to become the hunted."

"I'm proud of you Magie."

"If the telomere experiments of the Third Reich really worked just as the war was ending and this evil jerk is realy 94years old and his clowns.... Well it boggles the imagination."

"That shouldn't surprise a big telomere brain like you," Steve said softly looking around his situational awareness is always kicked in as he tripped over a hidden grass covered log in the field.

"Will you stop foolin' around. Clumsy. It's one thing Steve to theorize and develop my Telomere  Protocol on my computer but to possibly see it in action... well can be a little overwhelming not to mention frightening."

"You know what's frightening Magie is that we are being followed by a, a... pirate and Jungle Jim."

"Who?"  Magie was veteran enough not to immediately turn around.

"But the scary part, they're being followed.  It's too far away, but it looks like an organ-grinder with his monkey and some moron  holding a lantern and dressed as Diogenes.  I think it's either the Boobie Brothers or maybe the Ritz Brothers.  But not to worry.  That's why I annoyed that Bushmaster.  They have to come the way we came and that big snake went right back to that sun and shade spot we left him in."

"Yes you're so wonderful."  Magie's sardonic words left bite marks on Steve's ears.  Diogenes  holding a lantern in the middle of the morning?  Ritz Brothers?" Magie smirks in only a way a French Parisian or New Yorker can.  "I doubt that.  I wonder who's following them?  This has to be the Bilderberger Roller Derby Team.  Smell those delicious burgers. You know Steve I don't usually eat burg--"

"Oh who cares Magie,"  Steve said licking his lips.  "food that's not cardboard."

" I hate you Steve Ptah.  See Lord what I have to put up with.  We'll talk more in confession."

Entering the small wooden door next to the large closed hangar doors the noise of the skating Roller Derby Team, does battle with the delicious, irresistible aroma of cooking Bilderbergers.

"Greetings and Salutations,"  a heavyset skater rolled up to Magie and Steve.  My name is Shellfish Petty-Egomaniac  My friend at Angry Chowdowns our Pounds On meet... Heavy D said to expect you Senora Magie--"

"Senorita, Shellfish.  may I call you Shellfish?

"But of course.  Senorita.  Good.  I was worried for a moment" Shellfish Petty-Egomaniac said giving Steve the Crustacean-Cyclops eye.

  "So you want we 'The Philly Loo Birds Bilderbergers skating team to skate for you.  Put on skates and we will talk.  This is open skating morning.  Everyone is welcome to skate for the rest of the morning. Liberty Hall.  You will need five skates two for your feet, one strapped on your head and the last two for your hands."

"The Philly Loo  birds," Steve remarked with a curious tilt of his head.  "Then you can skate backwards at tremendous speed just like the Philly Loo Birds can fly--"

"And on your heads and hands as well as your feet while cooking up those yummy aroma Bilderbergers?"  Magie was saying in a voice that carried a wagon of doubt until she was interrupted by..."

... the obligatory scream and the sound of smashing skin and bone against rotting wood.

"We're practicing our skating whip.  You two can be the tail. We do not get a lot of open free-time skaters."
***

JOURNAL ENTRY:

06 June 1994
Monday
9:00AM  (Time Zone Change Altered to keep time log sequence.  Actually CST 8:00AM)

W.W.  Harrigan  Execrable  Stage Coach Lines out of Retracted, N.Y. Bus,  Pulled Over.
Fifth and Madison Street
Pomona, Kansas
USA.

'That should make their day'

"I don't understand it Chief Noblebrave but this bus load of wanted terrorist just showed up on our parade route trailing a smoke screen of marijuana you could hide a battleship in.   They all think they're in Panama, Central America for a Terrorist Jamboree" Office Goodbust said in a 'golly-gee' tone. Both men dressed in sharp police officer clothes reminiscence of General George Patton for the annual D Day parade.

"Well Pomona Kansas is middle America, and I guess it sounds like Panama."  Chief Noblebrave pointed out in a strong 'hey you get off my foot' slightly off pitch tone.  "No doubt about that.  Read some of those names off the wanted list again Gooddbust."

"Shake Umar Old Ange Zine, Bad Boy Selamouse, Afgan Abdouhalima, Shake Under Daumbrella... Oh Chief don't make me read all these names off the most wanted list. I can't pronounce them anyways."

"According to these papers and phony ID'S you and the State police got off these jamokes they originated someplace back east called 'The Big C' where ever that is?" Chief Noblebrave surmised.

"They keep yellin' something about a Molly and a deranged peacock put them on this bus and told them to practice the jitterbug so they would fit into American culture in case they got stopped crossing state lines.  Thus all the injuries."

"Okay Goodbust, tow the bus to our bus station mall.  Make sure all the injured jitter buggers are taken to the hospital. The rest...in the slammer. I want tight security on all of them.  We'll have to use the meeting room at the  county office as a makeshift hoosegow for now. I called the Feds and requested that ace INTERPOL man we saw on TV... a,  something Otnot.  According to the Media he knows all about terrorist."

"Imagine Chief, 36 of the worlds worst most wanted terrorist showing up in our town from out of nowhere.   I'd hate to be the moron who sent them to Pomona."

"Yeh, Goodbust someone up there," (the Chief points upward,) "must be lookin' after America.  I hope Commissar Otnot is available.  I hear he always travels with his dog Pluto"

"Hey Chief , I just thought of somethin'.  Otnot spelled backwards is Tonto.  If he comes here that 'ill make you Kemo Sabay."

"Huh?  Ya, I kinda like that Goodbust.  I wonder how much it is to get a name change.  Chief Kemo Saybay. Just give the bad news to these jitterbugging bozo terrorists they're not in Panama, Central America.  They're in Pomona, Middle America Kansas and under  the U.S. Justice System.  That should make their day.  I wonder what it means in Injun lingo?"

Chief, I always heard it means 'Horse's--' "

Just then 3rd assistant to the Mayor walks in, The Honorable Growtow Patootie.  "Someone call me?"
***

JOURNAL ENTRY:

Monday
06 June 1994
3:10PM

The old theatre next to the Hotel California.
Steve has made arrangements through Heavy D to use the now closed theatre for private use.
Via Espana
Panama City, Panama

'A minor inconvenience.'

"That went easier than I thought at the Roller Skating Rink," Magie said, as she and Steve fined tuned  some of the most excruciating merengue moves ever completed in the underworld of the hidden merengue for Hombres and Hombrettes.  "How's your head?"

"My head, my back. And what was all that screaming?"

"I believe that was you Steve.  How embarrassing."

"Yeah right. Never try roller skating on you head while on the tail end of the whip.  A few weeks in intensive care and I might be able to play the viola again, Magie.  You and your idiot sage almost got me killed.  How fast do you think we were going when we hit that hangar wall?"

"Oh don't be such a wimp Steve, you never played the viola.  I was skating on my hands when the whip cracked.  If you didn't panic and get the both of us almost killed... and by the way we almost got killed.  'We' not just you."

"Now you now how it feels the morning after O' Tannebaums."  Steve smirked. "And how they cook those delicious Bilderbergers, skating backwards, on those mini barbeque grills I'll never figure out."

"Steve, you're still trying to figure out how to make a rope with only one end.  You know what happens when you try to thi--"

"Shellfish the Petty-Egomaniac was so impressed with our willingness to take the tail end of the whip and die you got your interview with them for 'The Noggin.' "  Steve babbled allowed.  "Did you say something?"

"Steve how many times do I have to tell you to call my sage Sir Doo Doo Fazoo.    Yes it will be up to Sir Doo Doo to cinch the deal.  I'll call him from a pay phone when we finish our routine.  And don't make fun of peoples names.  Senora Shellfish's maiden  name is Petty and she married some hombre whose  last name is Egomaniac--"

"Yeah, that's not too weird," Steve whispers in ancient Egyptian.

 "You forget Steve I also speak ancient Egyptian including Nubian. You know that Steve."

"Yes Magie, I know that.  I wish I didn't but I know--"

  "And your last name is not without cause. 'Ptah,' the Egyptian God of Shadows.  What kind of name is--"

"Hey remember I was adopted.  The Nun at the Catholic orphanage was a Doctor of Ancient Egyptology and taught at a prestigious university and always found me lurking in shadows."

 Okay, okay." Magie said with blunt force trauma.  "Point taken.  Please don't go down your unbearable memory lane again.  I can't take--"

 "I still think we didn't have to skate.  Your sages Plutonium credit card would would have worked  just fine without us being pulverized by the wheels of death.  How does one get a Plutonium card anyway?"

 "I was injured too.  You know how far I slid on my... my derriere before hitting you and both of us pile-driving into the wall. That hurt."

"Really Oh Great One," Steve moaned in F flat.  "I didn't notice mainly because I was in so much pain."

"For a situation awareness man you're still such a Wimp with a capital 'W'."

"Oh, sweetie, stop sending me kisses of kudos you're making me blush."

"How I hate it when you... you...disarm me. Now start the music tape. And remember, 'Every little Movement Has a Meaning.'"

 They danced for hours, in the empty almost darkened theatre,  polishing their routine with the precision of  an atomic clock incorporating the turbulent and rough handling dance actions French Apache moves from the 1930's into their potential suicidal dance.  The low lighting had no effect on them because Datu training sessions back in 'The Big C' after a while was done blindfolded.  In fact they wore blindfolds  now polishing of their routine.

. The Pampas Stumble moving into a Triple Tricorn without a misstep moving as one and into one of the most difficult gymnastic moves Magie has adapted to the merengue using Steve's bent knee as a springboard and his shoulders as a vaulting table.  Then propelling herself into space with a back handspring doing three twisting rotations the first 180 degrees, the second two each 360 degrees then the last 180 degree rotation as  she prepares to land facing away from where she started her vault.

 Steve waiting for her in his Warrior Stance as she 'Inquartata's (Sidestepping) and accomplishes a 'Derobement' (an evasive slide). Completing a "Coup d' arret' (Stop-thrust counter attack.  Steve completes his Coup de Temps' (Lunge) as Magie performs a Passata Sotto (Counterattacks droping beneath his incoming Balestra (Attack of slight forward merengue jump and lunge) and with a Coup Sec (meeting of dancers crisp and firm)  as then falling away into a Dying Swan Position all done  with the merengue limp that Datu bestowed on them with a mallet that cold snow-driven winter night at his whaling action center home.

Their dance routine includes the entrance of a triple salchow off a small exploding leverage board and death spiral ending as Steve hurls her feet first through a window.

"Now you have the white powder timer set and we disappear in a cloud of white powder smoke as Heavy D momentarily darkens the dance floor," Magie said softly removing her blindfold.  "Now make sure there is just enough powder to cover my stage window. I don't want to depart stage ceiling. You know how you get with blasting powder smoke.  I don't want to experience again what happened at that nut Datu's place back in 'The Big C' when you blew us all out the windows into that blizzard.  If those windows weren't covered with that idiot Datu's  whale grease we would have been sliced and shredded."

"Relax Magie, those windows were made out a sealing wax" Steve said as he tried to get his blindfold off. "If you remember correctly Datu mixed the smoke powder.  Anyway I grab you by the waist as you are propelled over my head, I death spiral you several times around  and I throw you through the fake window feet first.  And don't worry my dizziness caused by that middle ear injury is almost gone."

"Idiot. Datu mixed that smoke powder under your expert supervision," Magie pointed out in 'go to the principal's office again' voice.  And you needn't be so happy about hurling me feet first through that sugar candy window. You did make sure it's fake glass this time."

"So I made a little mistake,' Steve said in that school boy tone.  " A minor inconvenience. Minimum acceptable damage.  I thought you checked the window."

"Minor inconvenience? You're a minor inconvenience. I will check the window this time.  But I can't control your aim.  Now, one more time... the part of the meremgue dance routine we close with that we incorporated the Apache into when you grab me by the waist, as I sail over your head  and throw me backwards threw the window at the dance hall your sure--"

"Don't worry Magie, Heavy D replaced that particular window with that stunt-movie candy glass and the  trampoline is right under the window to catch you.

"Listen, Einstein, it's not just the ending I'm  concerned about... although you better throw me threw the right window this time, aside from being shaved into little pieces, it's one floor down to the trampoline if you throw me backwards, feet first, through the wrong window.  But its our entrance I'm more concerned about.  Are you sure your Cloakroom buddy, the nut that sold me the kitchen sink, Forest Green the gay shrimper knows what he's doing?'

"He's an expert Magie, like me relax.  With the gay shrimper and me on the job there's nothing to worr...  Hey I can't get my blindfold off.  Magie... Magie... you still here?"
***


JOURNAL ENTRY:

Monday
06 June 1994
5:00PM

Airport.
Approach to Taxi Stand
Panama City, Florida

'If I want an 'X' I'll look in the dictionary.'

"Do not worry Pop, I will get us a taxi.  I hope not too many people want my autograph," Pluto Vance yelled back as he raced ahead of Commissar Otnot who is next to Acid Burns pushing a wheelchair with a drugged Mesquite Molly just coming out of her sedation.  Both Pluto Vance and Commissar Otnot are attired in matching Ninja-safari outfits by Olsen's Ninja  department store on Morning Street that looks like a vacant lot to non-Ninja's of 'The Big C.'

Molly's is covered in a grey horse blanket that has a faded stable print something about 'The Old Gray Mare' and a big straw hat  with two holes on the top possibly to let horses ears protrude, that is only seen in Coney Island on the most unbearable sunshine beach days.  Her red cowgirl boots with golden metal toe clips are seen sticking out from under the drab blanket.
  Acid, is dressed in peacock flustered street-jamie's and peacock-feet slippers all designed by Motimer Snerd Courtier's A La Monde Savage.  Her Coiffure, fighting peacock style by Zuu Zuu of Irian Jaya of Indonesia and Cement City of California and  Division Street of 'The Big C.' .

"Where am I ya varmints,' Molly drawled as the sedation wore off.  "This ain't 'The Big C.' The last I remember I was in my friendly tavern when I was hit by a bloody--"

"Briefcase with mommies in it," Commissar Otnot said in an unexpected clash of thunder tone that caused Molly to rear up.

"... A mummy case thrown through my picture window as I began my swan song of... not a brief case you idiot.  Acid is that you pushing me.  I smell your fighting peacock foul odor.  Who is this moron and why am I in a wheel chair?"

"This doofus is some nut claiming to be in the... the Polish Army that has arrested us for being victims--"

"Not the Polish army you, you silly bird brain half person.  INTERPOL.  And you mosquitos of Molly person and this bird person are under arrest for being victims of harboring  the heinous Tongan. Shall we say you are also being held as material witnesses--"

"That's right, Pluto Vance yelled as he had the cab pull up next to them.  I am Pluto Vance Clear Boyant and you Misses O'Leary and your cow and this person who burns acid will lead us to the Tongan. I can sense the Tongan's evil presence right now she is close to us Pop.  Very close."

Molly shook her head to try and rid herself of the sleeping powders cloudy after effects.  "This moron is your son? You should be ashamed ya quisling meatball.  And if that's not enough to be embarrassed about  ya named the little creep Fifth Columnist  after Mickey Mouse's dog?  What kind of nitwit--"

"Huh?" Commissar Otnot and Pluto Vance regurgitated at the same time.

"Hi,  my name is Olaf,"  the taxi drive said. "Welcome to Panama City. I will put the wheelchair in the trunk."

Acid let go with one of her peacock raptor cries of defiance.

As Olaf the taxi driver was hopping out to help his passengers into his cab, he fell back grabbing his heart.  "What in the name of  Heaven Above was that?"

 Inside the taxi now crowded with baggage and other paraphernalia Commissar Otnot thought necessary, the taxi driver said again, "Welcome to Panama City, my name is Olaf Fontleroy, where would you like to go?"

"I am Pluto Vance, Clear Boyant, you have heard of me of course.  Take us to the Caesar Palace hotel this instant Loafey and don't spare the horses we are on the trail of the Tongan."

"What did you magpies say," Olaf growls as he yells the cab drivers 'Hey Rube' type distress signal 'Yumpin' Yimminey' on his radio. Then going beserk he fights his way over baggage, tennis rackets several bags of golf clubs autographed by The best golfer the world has ever produced 'Slammin' Sammy Sneed and began to pummel the four passengers in the back seat.

In moments taxi drivers from all over the City arrived as well as police cars all entering the fracas.  It was horrible.  All that could be heard was Pluto Vance yelling, "Pop Pop Pop Pop Aghhhh..." Along with battle cries of an overwhelmed peacock, Molly yelling for a Village Flame Thrower drink and Commissar Otnot reciting the Russian alphabet backwards.   Ambulances arrived as well as dozens of protester protesting airport expansion and incorrect dating on frozen meat packaging. And some suave guy from the early 1940's known as The Falcon.

"I will give autographs to everyone, just do not push ya.... aghhhh," Pluto Vance cried before being  beaten to a pulp."

"If I want an 'X' I'll look in the dictionary," The Falcon screamed as fist and feet flew and bite marks became the uniform of the day.
***

(Journals for June 7th to 9th unrecoverable.)


JOURNAL ENTRY:

10 June 1994
Friday
8:30PM

Approaching Herr Schutzstaffel's yacht 'The Thirteenth Ordinance
Anchored  of the town of Gamboa on the Panama Canal
Ten kilometers from the Old French cemetery
Panama, Central America.

'That couldn't be--'

"What a mob," Magie said as they approached Herr Schutstaffel's mega-yacht by water taxi guided to a soft tie-up by boat taxi helmsman the infamous secret agent  Pinky Teapot well known for his ultimate fighting losses and candle light soirees  and lives at 33 Avenue 3, Colon Panama.

 Magie is dressed in white cotton slacks white shirt with turquoise buttons, Scapular worn around neck, white baseball cap over her hair worn swept-up style and white sneakers with turquoise shoelace holes  all designed, except for the Faux Yenta Yoiks sneakers, and of course Brown Scapula, by Deefen-Docker formal-casual mega-yacht wear.  A white small purse with turquoise trim, also designed by Faux Yenta Yoiks shoes is in her hand.

 Steve is wearing military pressed blue jeans, thin white shirt with Sacred  Heart of Jesus pin attached to left chest side of shirt, with sleeves  rolled up above the wrist and a blue baseball cap all by Catholic Charities and light tan almost suede RR cowboy boots.

"After almost a week of polishing our dance routine this is, I hope a pleasant break," Magie sighed. 

'Did you get a chance to call your...sage to tell him the roller skating deal is a set up?  That all he has to do is step-in to screw up the deal."

"I left a message on his private goombah phone back home.  Now that Heavy D confirmed Sir Doo Doo is in the honeymoon suite at our hotel I'm sure his mother will get the message to him.  My sage doesn't go anywhere without informing Mother Fazoo.  If  Sir Doo Doo is on the run for Air Piracy as Heavy D told us I can't believe he would be stupid enough to still be at the Caesar Palace."

"I can," Steve smirked.  "I'm still working on trying to smooth things out for your merry band of nitwits Magie, but Air Piracy is not to easy too sweep under the rug. Now may we concentrate on our mission?"

"Oh Steve you're  such a... a, well such a Steve. As I told you Herr Schutzstaffel wanted just me to come alone on his yacht but I said I never been to a yacht party with lots of important people and you Steve being unimportant would ease me into--."

"That's using your 300 plus IQ Magie. I told you I'd get your 298 IQ out of the basement. Well I'm glad you got me an invite.  I don't think the new beloved Fuhrer likes me too much.  Try to keep him busy and I'll do my Ninja stuff and snoop around."

"No Steve, no Ninja stuff please.  It always turns into a disaster and always an embarrassment to me. Steve you  are not a Ninja.  Steve?  Steve?  Where are you?'

"Right here Magie.  I've been here all the time."

"Okay, so you are a Ninja.  Big deal.  I don't care it still turns into a disaster... especially for me.
Let me get him to take me on a tour of his yacht,  He seems to want to impress me."

"Surely you jest Magie."

Magie didn't hear him as dozens of noisy  water taxi's ferrying laughing party guests came along side the mega-yacht that had several different gangways to board.  Some guy screaming 'Blasphemer' in rapid fire succession as he plunged into the water from one of the yachts high decks.

"That couldn't be--"  Steve stared to say.

"Oh I hope not," Magie sighed that Pottsville Pennsylvania Molly Maguire gasp.

The whole scene is lighted by cattails dipped in kerosene on the shore as darkness began to bashfully  tippy toe in.  Candles on the water taxi's and subdued lighting from the mega-yacht.  Reminding Magie and Steve of a flickering fairy setting. A clear night  but jungle fog beginning to encroach on the Canal water as well as intensive frog croaking.

Salt water  mixing with the perfumed aroma of shore bank grasses. An occasional snap of kerosene visits but doesn't stay long.

As Steve helps Magie over the last step of the gangplank and onto the main deck he whispers proudly like an Olympic ski jumper who just completed a record high jump into a Norwegian pine, "Yep,  my plan is working perfectly."

The Boobie Brothers dressed in sailor suits, fashioned  by 'In the Brig' were checking invitations at the main gangplank entrances to the Mega Yacht while humming 'Yo Ho Ho and a Bottle of Shoshu.

"Plan?  What plan?  Steve are you picking up the scent of pachyderms?"

"Huh?

"Elephants  Moron."

"Moronic elephants?  Now that you mentioned it... yes I do," Steve said sniffing the air. But how do you know they're morons?"

All of a sudden a heavy duty tissue is slapped across Steve's sniffing nose by one of the guest service agents that mingle with the guests.  "Cover that sneeze big boy." Jappala Wacka Smythe said.  "Our new beloved Fuhrer does not allow sneezing on the Thirteenth Ordinance."

"This place looks like a Alcatraz old home week reunion," Magie."

A trumpeting of the large beasts from the far side of the mega-yacht causes Magie to note allowed, "Indian Paych--I mean elephants  Steve, probably from the Island of Sri--"

"Nobody cares where they're from Magie," Steve said as Magie pulled him out of the way of one of many rickshaws being pulled by corpulent,  skin-headed bearded  males ferrying guest from one end of the yacht to the other as Beer Hall Putsch music could be heard coming from one of the the main ballrooms.

"They're doing the Schuhplatteltanz dance," Magie said her tone dripping with scholastic  reverie.  "It's a German folk dance were the dancers slap the Bees Wax out of each--"

"Sounds  like they're doing the 'Locomotion' Magie.

Just then a golden rickshaw pulls up bedside them, the heavy breathing of a sweating corpulent, hairy rickshaw puller waving  his arms for the moving mob of party goers to make way.

"Ja ja it ist being me your new beloved Fuhrer, my dear Manja--"

"It's Magie."  Magie corrected harshly.

"Ja ja,"  Herr Schutzstaffel roared.  "Comeinzee with the new beloved Fuhrer, I ist showing you all around mein Fuhrer yacht.  The view ist being Fuhrer-Wonderbar  from the Opulent deck with mein Fuhrer only deck of observation."

"Nice set a wheels," Steve said examining the rickshaw body.  "This could pass for a chariot."

"Are these rickshaw pullers being paid?"  Magie asked.

"Ja ja, of course.  They ist being all being union unt for night work the new beloved Fuhrer is paying unt small fortune.  Now your partner ist not minding if I ist Fuhrer-monopolizing some of your time.  Away dummkopf to the opulent deck but wait for mien Manja to be aboard idiot-dummkopf."

"My name is Magie, Sherlock.  Steve, don't do any of that stuff we spoke of before," Magie yelled back as they rick-'shawed' off.  "I could really see you causing a mega faux pas.... Steve?  Steve?  Where are--"

""I'm headin' below deck to dance the Locomotion." 

"That's not the Locomotion you idiot it's the Schuhplatteltanz, the slap..."

"Ja ja, did someone say something mein dear Manja?"

"My name is Magie, you toga wearing Fuhrer beloved warthog.  Magie."

"Ja ja.  That ist being toga weaing beloved Fuhrer..."

Later on the quiet of the Opulent deck with commanding view of the Panama Canal and the surrounding jungle Magie and Herr Schutzstaffel settle down at a richly ornate Fuhrer table with little red metallic satanic figures eating banana sandwiches while seemingly 'Shuffling off to Buffalo.'

Cabin  ganadage Frau Getruda  Scholtz-Klink dressed in an Olive Oil Cabin steward uniform with a Dead head insignia on her modified, to accommodate her head coming to a point sailor cap brings Magie her green tea with a teaspoon of Fuhrer  honey.

Ja ja, unt what are you thinking mein dear Manja on this glorious Fuhrer day with not a Fuhrer cloud un the sky  except for that that one off in the horizon that curiously looky likes  an American schwein P-51 shooting down un illustrious Messerschmitt over Berlin."

"What do I think?"  Magie asked.  "I think someone knows how I like my tea.  And someone has their 'Neronized'  fig leaf wreath crown wrapped around their head too tightly.   And my name is Magie.  And...do you hear braying?"
***

JOURNAL ENTRY:

Friday
10 June 1994
9:00PM

Old Jungle Pier Near the Thirteenth Ordinance
'The Noggin' now in disguise as rogue Cuban baseball player wearing a black cape, Goombah Wong as a Pirate  and the rest of his pirate disguised  gang peering through the bushes at what's going on the Canal.
Near Gamboa Panama, 10 kilometers from the old French cemetery
Panama, Central America.

'Are you a Woo Woo?'

"I told ya 'Noggin' I'd lead ya to where the boat party where Magie was goin'," Goombah Wong in his instant pirate costume said as his tongue flickered in and out trying to pick up any scent of monkey spoor.

"Yeah, okay ya ferbonie.  It's about time ya did somethin' goombah-right.  Why are all these ferbonie bushes and trees here and these ferbonie bugs and 'The Noggin's' (Every time 'The Noggin' says 'The 'Noggin' the xylophone, *carried by the four dock workers* marimba players play the first 16 cords from 'The Jerk In The Black Cape represented in the rest of the Journals by @ Doot, Doot, dodado  do do do dada do etc...) is ferbonie sweatin'."

 'The Noggin' recited the list of his complaints as he and his goombah team peered through the bushes only a few feet from an old narrow dock that adventured carelessly about a couple of yards into the Canal  'The Noggin' attired as a rogue Cuban baseball player in a black cape.


"I 'Noggin'  @  naked without a ferbonie baseball bat."

"What a we just gonna look at all those fancy pants sickos  havein' a good time on that tub 'Noodle'?" the Brooklyn Creeper chided in a voice so scratchy it made the whole goombah-team scratch themselves. "If I was runnin' this shebang  ya bunch a meatheads, I'd be formin' a Brooklyn boardin' war party and take over the tub ya bunch a dweebs and sail it right down the Gowanus Canal."

""It's 'Noggin' @ ya ferbonie creep. Shadup ya ferbonie, 'The Noggin' @ is in charge of this goombah-team--"

"Yeah 'Noggin," goombah Wong whispered goombah style out a the side of his mouth.  "I could really tell all those fancy pants up there ta 'shiver their timbers' if we Blue Bearded them swamies."

"Swabies, not swamis and I believe that is 'shiver my timbers'," Phibbs served up his words on Royal British China.

"Yeah Yeah," Goombah Wong said, his split tongue forked his words.  "You can shiver ya timbers too ya limey swami."

" 'Noggin,' gentlemen, gentlemen and Ganadaga Frau Puckarber, we are already wanted for Air Piracy and a endless list of federal and international crimes, why not add Ship Piracy to our agenda," Myron Insolentt said sardonically.

"Now that ya got that message from ya Mama 'Noggin', Mister Schmgon you can close the Bilderberger roller skating deal and destroy Piggy Banks your arch rival and become the biggest  goombah in the whole world," Ganadage Frau Puckarber rejoiced. "What was that?"

"Listen ya ferbonie Nazi reject  my name is 'Noggin.' @   And it's Mama Fazoo. I'll blab ta why 'The Noggin' @ is here with ya febonies 'The Noggin'@ is killing two stones with one bird.  'The Noggin'@ is usein' this ferbonie boat party as cover.  'The Noggin '@ has set up a goombahvous through that ferbonie Judge Quackers who is on 'The Noggin's'@ payroll with Ilich Ramirez Sanchez You ferbonies may remember him as 'Carlos the Jackass,' the most notorious terrorist in the world."

"I'm hungry," Myron Insolentt announced in a tone that sounded like a cannon shot across the bough.  "Anyone have a candy bar?"

"Okay ya Bozo's what's all this marimba  music every few seconds," Ploop de la Ploop, 'Carlos the Jackasses' female Publicist broke brush as she slithered on the scene. Dressed as a 1920's jungle vamp in PF leopard canvas sneakers and Saint Louis Browns baseball cap with flipped up lid.  Her vamp outfit with bandoliers loaded with numerous live nonlethal flash-bang grenades draped around her neck and the Jackasses withers  designed by M. Hari. "You will give our secret meeting position away. "Judge Quackers set up this meeting by the Canal.  You must be 'The Numbnut'. "

"Na ya dipsy flake, I'm the Creeper, Brooklyn Creeper.  That's the Norwegian over there the jerk in the black cape."

"Shadup ya ferbonies, My name is 'The Noggin'@ is that so difficult--"

"Where is that stupid music coming from?"  Ploop de la Ploop demanded to know in a voice reminiscent of a kinkajou's cry for help.

"It's 'The Noggin's'@ marimba band ya ferbonie,  where's  The Jackass.  'The Noggin's'@ goombah business is with him not some ferbonie canary."

"You bring your own band on a secret rendezvous?"  Ploop de la Ploop said, mostly to herself in a loudspeaker whisper.  "What kind a nut would--"

"Where's The Jackass?" Myron Insolentt cries out.  "I'm bein'  stung to pieces by these 'noseeums'.  Please get this stupidity over with. I have a most secret government facility to run back home."

"Hey, watch ya mouth big boy.  The Jackass does not take kindly to that kind of  yabbering about his putzie-girl.  Presenting the most feared terrorist the world has ever known,  Ilich Ramirez Sanchez Carlos the Jackass.  His name strikes fear into all the governments in the world."

"Where ya ferbonie?  Alls 'The Noggin'@ sees is a jackass comin' through the ferbonie bushes."

"That's him."Ploop de la Ploop  cajoled."

"You mean the most feared terrorist in the world Carlos the Jackass is really a jackass,"  Myron Insolentt proffered.

"Listen you band a nitwits," Ploop de la Ploop fired bvack throwing soprano spitballs.  "Ya know what it is like for a woman to be taken seriously as the worlds most dangerous terrorist.  I blew any kind of balloon up in front of me. Ate semtex and C-4 for breakfast  I even blew myself up but I missed.

 I hid in closets, jumping out at unsuspecting civilians yelling 'Boo. until I came down with ferocious flat feet.  Still nobody called on me.  So I created a macho man and called him Illich Ramirez  Sanchez alias Carlos the Jackass.  All of a sudden I had the filth of the earth knocking on my door.  I told clients the Carlos the Jackass was always out on a mission or only acts in an advisory way because he is feeble minded  so no one would ever meet him.

That is until this Jackass showed up one day and took over Illich Ramirez Sanchez's identity.  Now I do all the terrorist work and he gets all the publicity."

"This woman is even more insane than we are," Myron Insolentt said sorrowfully. "Please I don't want to be connected anymore.  Will someone just shoot me."

"Hey Chubs,' Ganadaga Frau Puckarber snorted.  "She sounds all right to me.  And that's my sound professional opinion. Did anybody see that?"

"If I had my gat I'd blow ya away 'Inslobent' dweeb with pleasure ya--"  'The Noggin' cut off the Brooklyn Creeper's retort.

"Shad up ya febonies.  The ferbonie  bimbo sounds okay to 'The Noggin'@"  'The Noggin'  boomed.

"Will ya please cut that stupid 'jerk' music. is supposed to be a clandestine meeting ya--"

"There's plenty a candles by that fancy tub in the water."  Goombah Wong said his forked tongue still exploring the air for a new scent of lowland gorillas'.

Phibbs, examining the situation became disoriented for a second when he herd the word 'tub.'  Shall I draw your bath Sir 'Noggin?' "  ...in that Queens best China tone.

"Forget the bath sludge brain. Judge Quacker's said you were a square shooter 'Noggin',"  Ploop de la Ploop said.  "Now what is the gig.?  Here is my bill."

"Hey Ploops, does the Jackass yap in goombah English?"  Goombah Wong said slappin' his forehead with his forked tongue killing mosquitos left and right.  "Or is we gonna have ta get a trasnslat..."  he never finished.  Goombah Wong caught the scent of ape spoor and exploded off into the jungle.

"Watch out,"  Ploop de la Ploop said using a silencer on her words.  "The jungle is full of Woo Woo's when it gets dark."

"Woo Woo's?"  Ganadage Frau Puckarber's words circled the group causing the Jackass to bray continuously until Ploop de la Ploop yelled "Lies.  Lies. All Lies." at the Jackass.

"You heard of Vampires and Werewolves and guys named Frank that collect steins.  Well Woo Woo's puts them all to shame. And today is the day all the Woo Woo's that ever there was have their jungle Woo Woo picnic." Ploop de la Ploop sang out as she tip toed around the group.

"Ramon?  Is that you out there?"  Ganadaga Frau Puckarber screamed hysterically. "Are you a Woo Woo you dummkopf swine."

"Hey, I wanna try one of these flash-bangs," the Brooklyn Creeper gutted his words as he hoisted a flash-bang from one of Ploop de la Ploop's bandoliers.

"How does dis woik?"  The Brooklyn Creeper seemed baffled.  "I just pull dis pin and--"

"Be careful you moron you will blow us across the Canal--"  Ploop de la Ploop's 'Ne touchez pas' cry came too--.
***

JOURNAL ENTRY:

Friday
10 June 1994
9:31PM

The Opulent deck forward deck with massive view of the Canal and jungle.
The Thirteenth Ordinance Mega Yacht
Gamboa, Panama the Panama Canal
Panama Central America.

'Torpedo sighted port-side.'

"Ja ja, braying? You ist noticing Manga mein Mega Yacht ist handicap-sensitive. One ist being Fuhrer able to travel to all decks by rickshaw."

"My name is Magie and I suppose there is some good even in the lowest-- What was that?"  Magie asked in a calm but suspicious tone like a soft hum of a buzz saw before it's engaged.  Sitting across from  Herr Schutzstaffel she sipped her green tea with a teaspoon of  fresh bee honey. "Those blinding flashes and ear piercing noises?"

"Ja ja,"  Herr Schutzstaffel, Fuhrer screamed into his ships communication hose that leads directly to his personal body guard operations room that keeps the ship and its perimeter secure as he dived under the opulent deck table.  "Russians or Israelis?"  Commandant Porcha did not answer.

"Ja ja I ist Fuhrer ordering you to answer Mueller you dunderhead." No answer came from Commandant Porcha elite bodyguard to the new beloved Fuhrer. Except perhaps a sound of someone snoring.

"Perhaps she is indisposed again," Magie whispered softly.

"Ja ja. Where are those three dummkopf  Boobie Brothers? Has all mein security deserted their new beloved Fuhrer."

"Not to worry mein new beloved Fuhrer" deck hand forth class Felix Enchufle said as he mopped by stacked crates of Libyan warm Turbo Tird beer.  The heaviest beer in the world. "Scuttlebutt has it the Boobies were blinded and fell off the gangplanks along with a number of important guests. Probably somebody foolin' with the fireworks trying to set them up for latter tonight--"
                                                                                                  
"Ja ja, I ist knowing that you dummkopf.   You ist seeing it ist being nothing mein Liebchen."

"Yes, well I think you can come out from under the table now," Magie said, in a euphonious tone.

 "Ja ja, I ist not being under the table.  Your beloved Fuhrer ist had unt uncontrollable urge to be doing deep knee bends."

"Of course Herr Schutzstaffel."

"Ja ja, but being now you must call me by mein fist name 'Herr.'  After being all I ist being Irish. "

"I don't think so," Magie punctuated her remark with an exclamation point.

"Herr Schutzstaffel did not hear her as he  was admiring himself in an errant bottle of Libyan Turbo Tird beer, 'For the Discriminating Luxurious Yachtsman,' that was mistakenly left on the Fuhrer table by  cabin ganadage Frau Gertruda Scholtz-Klink also known in Nazi circles as the Abominable Snow-Frau.

"Ja ja. Some dummkopf workman accidently blowing themselves up ist setting mein Fuhrer fireworks display tonight," Herr Schutzstaffel proclaimed dressed in the royal toga garment of Nero with a crown of golden figgy of figs complememting his hob nail golden sandals with little white wings on the sides made of exquisite piblokto pearls that could have been worn by Mercury  "That humongous/blinding flash unt eardrum shattering noise ist making your new beloved Fuhrer almost spill his tea."

"I truly pray no one was hurt." Magie's words of concern were body-slammed into Herr Schutzstaffel's mug.   "Shouldn't you be calling a medical service." Stern advice that the new beloved Fuhrer failed to appreciate.

"Ja ja, I, the new beloved Fuhrer ist involving mein-self in the affairs of inferiors.  "I must Fuhrer-chuckle."  His chortle-chuckle was that of a cat hacking up numerous hairballs.

"Please, don't do that again," Magie ordered, standing up and moseying over to the deck rail with the grace of a rising swan then looking down at the water and jungle far below  "I may become violent."

"Ja ja, where ist you learning to mosey like that?"

"Huh?  Oh I must a picked it up some place."   Standing by the rail on the high deck she inhaled the teasing aromas of salt water mingling with shore bank grasses, jasmine plants as the sent of olive trees tussle her sense of smell.  An occasional snap of kerosene again visits form the lighted Cattails  but doesn't stay long.

"The Cattails flaming are beautiful?"

"Ja ja, beloved Fuhrer atmosphere mein Liebchen. Unt know I ist wanting to be taking  you to the fabled Amber Room below decks.  You must being remember Manja our candlelit walks as we Goose-Stepped danced down to  the Amber Room unt how we would enter the candle lit Amber Room and with the reflections of the candles on the Amber, like B-24's exploding overhead un the night sky as they ist being hit by our 88mm shells, we would make--"

"Pizzas?'  Magie questioned sternly.

"Ja ja.  Pizza?  I ist not saying Pizza.  There ist being no pizza ovens being allowed in the Amber Room mein darling Manja."

My name is Magie."  Magie says softly as if she is whispering to the jungle. "And you did say Pizza."

Then the strong sent of phosphorus and cordite sashay on by ."  Magie turns slowly facing a now standing Herr Schutzstaffel trying to hide his involuntary nystagmus as he holds his tea cup up to Magie  and toasts her beauty but using the name Manja.  " I'm over here and my first name is Magie.  Tell me about this Manja person you seem so possessed by."

As Magie sits down back at the table, with Herr Schitzstaffel following, only misjudging his chair twice.   Magie places her tea cup down, he holds her hand.  "You ist seeing mein Leibchen I ist having the Fuhrer ability to make you being to live forever.  Never grow old.for you see mein putzie girl I ist in reality--"

"If you're going to tell me your father time I'm outta here."

 '"Ja ja, Father Time.  How being adorable. I ist Fuhrer knowing you und that schweinhund pathetic partner you ist being with ist not looking for me.  What if I... ist telling you that I ist, er...  I ist forgetting for a Fuhrer moment.  Oh.  What if I ist telling you I ist the fabulous, Martin Bormann I--"

"My dear Herr, you just think you're this Bormann chap... well because you're insane, no offense mein new beloved Fuhrer."

"Ja ja, und none taken.  I the new beloved Fuhrer realize I ist beyond the comprehension of a mere peasant such as yourself."

 "Tell me about this Manja and your future plans mine new beloved Fuhrer,"  Magie asked softly as someone would ask as if they are holding nails between their teeth while trying to put up warped sheet rock. "I mean I am strangely drawn to you but I could never live in this swamp with a nut-job who thinks he's some loser Nazi from distant past"

"Ja ja.  But I ist being really the one, the only... ah. do not tell me  ah, ja, Martin Bormann. I ist bringing back the Evil unt mindless stupidity of the SS unt Gestapo thugs of the Third Reich from the distant past today unt the future.I ist surrounding you Manja in luxury that even kings could not afford. Unt all you  unt the world ist having to do ist to fall down unt worship me your...er... whom ist I saying I was?"

"Fatso Fogaty," Magie shoved her words down his throat."

 Ja ja I ist knowing that.  I the new beloved Fuhrer Fatso Fogaty. That ist not being sounding right?  I the new beloved Fuhrer ist trying to get back to you in Berlin but the bombing ist stopping me from your telomere emulsion. I, the new beloved Fuhrer, Stumpfegger unt that idiot Muller unt a few assorted minor Third Reich numnutsenzies  ist being  made it out unt traveled to the special unmarked Fuhrer submarines.

But I ist Fuhrer knowing you ist coming back Manja to your  new beloved Fuhrer.  I ist Fuhrer knowing I ist Fuhrer irresistible. Unt you can be being at mein side when I become Fuhrer of the world, my philosophy un education ist being worldwide. If un child ist being counting to one hundred then that ist being all the education that ist necessa...  nesessa... I ist  being responsible for the Stupid Generation which you ist now being part.  Und now Manja I ist destroying  the major world's religious holiday--"

"My name is Manja...er, I mean Magie.  You must be catching.  What about destroying Christmas?"  Magie questioned with authority.

"Ja ja.  Christmas?  Bah bah nine bags full.  It ist  being Fuhrer meaningless.  Millions of babies ist being born on that terrible day.  Christmas being aside from that mein schweinhund Fuhrer minions ist already being tearing Christmas to Fuhrer pieces.  Nein nein mein dear Manja.  Anyone can be born.  But to be resurrected from the dead and arise into heaven...  Well you ist seeing why I ist being the new beloved Fuhrer must destroy... Easter.  Unt it ist all being Fuhrer done Manja by  un seemingly harmless Nazi rabbit unt un few colored hard boiled Fuhrer eggs."

The new beloved Fuhrer went into convulsions of laughing that constricted his  breathing.  Magie had to give him the Heimlich maneuver to bring him out of his Fuhrer stupor while feeling for  broken collarbone that never healed properly. 

"My name is... Magie, yes Magie and mein dear beloved Fuhrer ist a screwy as ... a... bent cork--"

"Ja ja,  you ist saving mein life.  The life of your beloved new Fuhrer."

"Yeah ,yeah.  I told you not to laugh like that again.  I went to the library the other day and read the only article I could find on this Martin Bormann you claim to be--"

"Ja ja, Martin Bormann?  Who ist this Martin Bormann.  You ist speaking to your new beloved... belove... er, oh... Fuhrer Fattso Fogaty."

 "Yes...  hmmm, You were born in 1900 and you birthday is, as you said, the same day as my birthday June 17th but that would make you 94 years old which you are not and I am sorry to break the news to you but you were killed in Berlin in 1945, somebody should have told you, along with your lanky donkey faced friend Stumpfegger next to the Lehrter train station. And while you are approximately the same size and... yucky oxen  body type and anvil shaped pumpkin head  there is a possible resemblance to the photo that came with the article--"

"Ja ja.  The answer ist being to your last question ist being mein monocle.  Now you ist watching  when I remove it."  As Herr Schutzstaffel pops his sunglass monocle off his right eye by contorting his eye socket he announces with Fuhrer glee, "Unt now you see once mein disguise ist being removed I ist really being the most sought after arch Fuhrer criminal un the world  Fatso Fogarty.  For some Fuhrer reason that ist not seeming to be Fuhrer right.  But you ist being aware un Nazi instinctively ist killing what he ist loving most" Herr  Schutzstaffel started to go into his Fuhrer laugh convulsions hurling  his famed reptilian stare, across the table, at Magie.

"You mean killing yourself no doubt.  You're getting that mixed up with Werewolves."  Magie, smelling the overwhelming odor of evil and feeling a strange coldness for the first time saw the black mesmerizing emptiness in the new beloved  Fuhrer's eyes as he coughed up hair balls coldcocked him with an full bottle of Libyan Turbo Tird beer from the House of Tird famed for its heavy weight hops and other secret ingredients that  Felix Enchufle stacked earlier and a bottle left on the Fuhrer table by absent minded cabin ganadage Frau Gertruda Scholtz-Klink.

"Ja ja, what ist happened?  What ist that awful smell being?  Nein, nein I the new beloved Fuhrer Herr Schutzstaffel is covered in that disgusting Turbo Tird beer 'For the Discriminating Luxurious Yachtsman.'."

"Nothing happened.  And I thought you told me you're Martin Bormann, I mean  Fatso Fogarty not Herr Schutzstaffel?  Why don't you pick just a few of your favorite names and stick with that."

"Ja ja, who?  Ah ja, I ist forgetting for unt Fuhrer moment.  Herr Schutzstaffel ist being part of mein disguise like mein monocle ist being. No one ist suspecting unt Irish man to be un reality Secretary to the old beloved Fuhrer Dolp I... whom did I say I was--"

"Rabbi Levi.  Please don't start that Martin Bormann stuff again."  Magie snapped her words like the crack of a whip. "You went into one of your convulsive  hideous laughing fits passed out after you hit   yourself over the head with one of those awful smelling Turbo Tird beers. A monocle as a disguise?"  Magie scoffs. "Get real."

Ja ja, I ist Fuhrer remembering now  Fritz Mengele unt that idiot Herr Doctor Stumpfeggerr told me I the new beloved Fuhrer may ist  having side effects like blackouts due to the telomere treatments.  Unt other symptoms, Illusions,  unable to sweat, seeing triple,  dunking for apples at inappropriate times--"  Then looking around said to Magie,"Where ist I Manja.  The Fuhrer I must see him at once.  I unt Stumpfegger unt Muller must be leaving Berlin before the Russians arrive.  Manja. I ist not taking you because you ist being excess baggage.  But I ist coming back for you unt Stumpfegger ist being treating you with Mengele's telomere emulsion to arresting age."  Herr Schutzstaffel returned to his convulsive diabolical laughter stumbling around his opulent deck  When out of nowhere night flying birds , most fly only during daylight hours, attacked the new beloved Fuhrer.

An Oropendola commenced a night time Stuka dive bomb attack concentrating on the new beloved Fuhrer's pumpkin sized head. Followed by a never ending assortment sea gulls circling above in formation one after the other peeling off pummeling the new beloved Fuhrer with beak and excrement. Owls coming in fast at sea level and dropping squealing vermin and 'slitherers' on the new beloved Fuhrer.

 Then two rather  large angry screaming  Harpy eagles kicked butt literally followed by a slew of Black Vultures that seemed to be covering their eyes with one wing and then a hideous flock of Ant birds and what looked like a deranged flock of finches darkened the lights from the yacht and Cattails for a minute or two Peppering the new beloved Fuhrer with ferocious beak snipping followed by a flock of thought to be extinct, outside Brooklyn, Philly Loo birds completing a mopping up action and leaving a nasty mess.


  By this time the new beloved Fuhrer,  "Ja ja birds do not fly at night." was blown head first into one of the yachts large commercial deck vent's  the panicked Captain Enriqo Basurero, who is just a few feet above the scene happening a few feet below from his captain's wheelhouse panic-sounded the ships horn at short intervals accidentally declaring 'Torpedo Sighted Port-side.'

 Magie,  never touched by fowl, excrement or 'slitherer'  gracefully arose.  Studied the situation and left as some of the crew before abandoning ship before the passengers pulled the new beloved Fuhrer out of the ships vent with a belching popping sound leaving the new beloved Fuhrer to stumble around in a Fuhrer stupor.  The insidious Fuhrer laughter-cackle of cats coughing up hair balls faded as Magie flagged down a fleeing rickshaw to the main deck.

Magie reaching the main deck on the crowded yacht  thought she caught sight of something falling from above that was gaging then a tremendous splash.

 Then Felix Enchufle yelling 'Beloved Fuhrer Overboard' as the ships horn sounded the 'Beloved Fuhrer Overboard' alarm that strangely sounded like the first eleven notes of Jingle Bells.
***


JOURNAL ENTRY

Friday
10 June 1994
12:39AM

Tocumen International Airport
Central American Airline Flight 932 (Delayed Arrival due to turbulent weather,)
Main Arrival Hall
Wheelchair Customer Service.
Panama City, Panama

'Boy Ant?'

"Idiot.  Moron.  Doofus,"  Molly cried out, her gray blanket contrasting nicely with her maroon colored wheelchair.  Her Blondish grey hair stupefied straight up due to a number of previous attackers carrying cattle prods.   "One of you morons get me a Village Blast--"

"Awww, shut up you mosquito person,"  A wheel chaired, with racing stripes on, it Pluto Vance, with two broken leg casts and a bandaged head and bite mark covered arms yelled back.

"Please keep your hysterics down,"  Alma Rrite, customer service agent said. "You are scaring the passengers."

"Let us just get to the hotel," Commissar Otnot decried. 

"Si. Si."His wheelchair pusher senior passenger service agent  Ouray Enyie,  said to a battered and bruised Commissar Otnet who also has all his fingers and toes each in a separate cast.

"Did someone just call me a sissy?"  Commisar Onlet chided. "Am I hearing voices?"

Senior passenger service agent Ouray Enyie his voice always very low and turned his head sideways when he spoke, "There, there Senor Communist Omlet,we will have you in a taxi in a momento."

"What?  Is someone talking to me? I am hearing voices.  Medic.  Medic."  Commissar Otnot turned his head quickly from side-to-side trying to catch a glimpse of where theses voices are coming.

"No more freakin' taxi's" Acid held on tight to her brown blanket on her yellow wheelchair her  broken  left wing still in a cast and many claw scratches.  Her wounded peacock cry was answered by two tame macaws perched on a railing still being used by workmen finishing final repairs from Magie and Steve's farrago earlier arrival to Tocumen International Airport.

"Pop Pop, I sense we are at the correct airport this time. Leave it to me Pluto Vance, I will get us a taxi and--

"Nyet, Pluto.  I called the Police Chief of the Panama City, Panama and because I have such a grand INTERPOL reputation the chief is sending a large ambulance to take us to the Caesar Palace hotel."

"I was right again Pop.  How do I do it?"

"Hey you pinhead," A swarthy voiced femme fatal whispered from behind the ruins of a marimba float at a disheveled Pluto Vance, "Tic tic, tic tic tic tic?"

"I will wheel you out to your ambulance Mister Pluto,"  Passenger Service agent Jose Baddose, spoke in a voice so deep everyone felt as if they are at the bottom of a mine shaft, who is on a work release program from Widmark extra secure Private Sanitation facility. "Senor Pluto do you really know Mickey Mouse?  Does he take you for walks?  How tall is--"

"Forget it you slow witted idiot. I want to be first.  I must read every ones mind to see if the ambulance area is secure. I will wheel myself down the ramp."

"No no Senor Pluto,"  Jose Baddose cried out in that deep foghorn voice that had fear scribbled all over it.  "The ramp is under construction, is too steep, if you miss the sharp turn it goes right into the express la--"

"Awww shut up ya dimwit  I am 'the' famous Pluto Vance Clear Buoyant. You push a wheelchair like it was stuck in mud...."

"But Senor Boy Ant... Brake.  Brake... you will be--"

  "I am already tuned into I am New Age mind blinkin'   I'm entering  ultra space...hey... Stop.  Stop... Stop ya miserable...  I am Pluto Vaaaaaa."

"Watch it Senor Boy Ant," Jose Baddose shrieks.   "You moron you are entering the Pan American highway..."

Acid turns to Molly  with a peacock smile on her beak-lips and shows Molly a wrench half hidden under her blanket.
***
                                                        
JOURNAL ENTRY:

Sunday
12 June 1994                                                      
6:35AM

Steve and Magie have stopped for an early morning breakfast at 'Clopinettes on the Shore' after Mass at Iglesia Santo Domingo.
Downtown Panama City, Bayside, Old Section Off Calle 5a
Panama City, Panama

'Take the peanut Magie.'

"... as I was performing the Heimlich Maneuver on the new beloved Fuhrer when he was choking on what sounded like a laughing hair ball I had a chance to feel his collarbone.  The right one was broken at one time and never healed properly. Also, after I told him he blacked out when he hit himself on the head with a full Turbo Tird beer bottle, Herr Schutzstaffel kept mumbling Mengele and Stumpfegger told him back in Berlin that the telomere experiments to arrest aging that he and Stumpfegger and somebody named Muller and some other minor officials would cause blackouts, possibly some physical discomforts, only occasional insanity and temporary loss of memory and--"

"Muller?"  Steve questioned with his usual perplexed tone.  Then Magie thought she saw a light bulb light up over Steve's head as she rubbed her eyes vigorously.

"Henrich  Muller.  'Gestapo' Muller.  of course--"

Who?"  Magie questioned in her soft French accent telling that she was thinking about mass she and Steve just attended.

"Chief of Office 1V... the Gestapo.  That is 'who' Commandant Porcha reminded me.  Gestapo Muller.  The most wanted war criminal after Bormann.  Sure, the size 19 scorched feet.  Dolph was always giving his upper echelon officers and staff hot foots especially when they were doing strategic planning."

"I believe it's 'whom.' "  Magie corrected in school ma'rm tone. "And every time you mention Commandant Porcha or whoever she/he is her feet get bigger."

"Huh?  Gesatpo Muller not only participated in the telomere experiments but  had a sex change. How diabolical. I should have seen that.  How stupid can I be?"

"We haven't pushed you to your full potential Steve,"  Magie said looking around for a waiter or waitress.

 "Magie, we hit the daily double maybe even the trifecta,"  Steve's words sparked as if he discovered electricity. "

"I remember reading in one of our briefs we studied before coming down here that this Heinrich Muller guy's head marker on his resting place, the Allies dug them up in Berlin and found his bones."

"Bones were found all right Magie, but they were pig bones probably put their by the Brotherhood. Bormann's Brotherhood after the annual Brotherhood Pork Roast while Berlin was being bombarded by Russian artillery."

"So Commandant Porcha is really this Gestapo Muller," Magie chimed.  "Steve I believe this Herr Schutzstaffel is really Martin Bormann and as my computer projections of one using the stopping of telomere to stop aging my protocol algorithms shows this has impact upon certain areas of the brain and will eventually cause feeble mindedness, but only temporary bouts of memory loss, destroying the individual that has undergone such treatment.  And I believe my hypothesis is now proven correct. Loss of Sanity not loss of Memory. Something you can identify with Steve."

"Yeah Magie, now it all makes semse.  No wonder I can't find my way out of elevators when the door
 opens--"

"Idiot," Magie snaps.  "It's always about you."

"Even if you're correct Magie, which I'm sure you are, the time  it takes this evil to destroy itself it can do a lot of harm," Steve pondered in a low deep whisper.

"So that brings us full circle," as Magie pointed out with the charm of an authoritarian 8th grade arithmetic teacher. "Where is the waiter or do we have to go up and order?"

"They'll be here in a moment."  Steve said still pondering their discovery. You know, perhaps we didn't have to go through the torture of learning the merengue you--"

"We'll never know but we would have never got close if he didn't think wed his merengue championship. It's better to have our heavy work done before we get to where we are going.  Oh, here they come."

"They? That Church of Santo Domingo is beautiful with that gold alter," Magie's tone was reverent but excited as she and Steve sat at one of the small beach tables not too far from the breaking anemic waves. Magie  applying a little more sun screen Steve purchased from the Cuna Indians which they make from certain tropical leaves  to that slightly freckled drop dead gorgeous visage of hers and her legs and hands is Cuna-Protected..

 The sun was emerging from the ocean teasingly playing hide&seek with a few white puffs of clouds.  The temperature was a pleasant 80 degrees  and was pumping up. A slight breeze tussled  Magie's  cotton white 'Nondescript's Department Store' head scarf and matching long sleeve modest dress.  Holding her medium heel white Faux Yenta Yoiks in her hand  as she moved her toes through the warm sand.

"There is an interesting story behind the golden alter," Steve said in a raconteur voice.  Stretching his legs  under the table/  Attired in a white cotton shirt and tan boot leg pants, designed by  Cucaracha's discount store on Avenue A, and tan suede boots.

 "During the age of pirates here in Panama... well there seemed to be a pirate behind every breaking wave.   Donzie Gilbert, Chubs Mansvelt, Le sieur Simple Simon and of course Bad Boy Morgan.  They used Panama City as a punching bag looting after looting.  Sister Regina, Father Rodriguea, Pedro, and a few more kids painted the alter with black paint to cover the veneer of gold.  Alia fell in the wash barrel of black paint.  I don't think he ever got it all--"

"Chubs Mansvelt? Another pirate named Monsieur Simple Simon? Really Steve you talk like you were there.  Alia  fell in the paint barrel?  You can't possibly know those little details."

"Of course you're right Magie comme d'habitude."

"Which reminds me Steve, while you were getting briefed by Heavy D concerning my sage and his goombah crew blowing themselves up accidentally with flash/bang grenades as they hid in the jungle by --"

"Rainforest," Steve teasingly injected with a deep smirk in thought whisper.  "Which reminds me  what was 'The Noggin' and his band of idiots spying on us for.  What we are trying to do has nothing to do with that pin head and his Bilderberger roller derby skating team."

Magie returned his smirk with a deep feline growl.  "Well you said, Heavy D said they were all mumbling about meeting with this Jackass guy Ilich Ramirez Sanchez.  You know Steve come to think about it I think I did hear a mule braying just before all those flash/ bang grenades exploded--"

"Yes, Carlos the Jackass is the only one that escaped..  And that poor mule was taken to the veterinary hospital at that Panama Ape Zoo. So all we came up with is a traveling group of morons from 'The Big C' and a--"

"Are you referring to my Sage and his goombah group or to you and me?"

"Sometimes I wonder Magie. And some guy from Brooklyn wanted for creeping around the Brooklyn Navy Yard at night looking for old 'Can Do' newspapers. I feel sympathy for that shell shocked mule.  I wonder if we'll ever catch that diabolical terrorist the Ilich aka Carlos The Jackass Ramirez Sanchez?"

"Steve, did you ever think that this terrorist Ilich Ramirez Sanchez is actually a Jackass. I mean in your world one can't rule that out. Don't forget Steve they have the Jackasses girlfriend and publicist... what's her name Ploop de la Ploop?"

"Yeah, I'll take that under advisement Magie.  The Jackasses girlfriend Ploop de la whatever you said is babbling  about her being the real Ilich Rameriez Sanchez alias the Jackass and the mule is only a front that stole her identity.   She was standing closest to the explosions, that may account for her ruminations.  They'll all be laid up for several days in La La land.  They all are temporarily blind and deaf just jabbering about the Jackass and 'Woo Woo's'?  What's a 'Woo Woo?  I hope that isn't about the Woo's  that you say owned that circus train again that disappeared along with Mort Plopp back in 'The Big C' that you hallucinate about.

"Facts are facts and I know you believe, in your perverted way, facts just get in the way of finding out what really happened. But then again, you are a moron.  And I know you are proud of that dubious accomplishment. Woo Woo's are Werewolves Steve," Magie shrugged in a French accent.  "Everyone knows that.  Here in Central America there is a superstition about--"

 "Please Magie, You and you're annoying baby babble. I beg you no soliloquy on Woo Woo's.  It's important I stay awake to complete this mission.  If only those idiots didn't set off that explosion causing the birds, you told me about, to attack Herr Schutzstaffel--"

"You really are a perpetual swine Steve. Oh I don't think the explosions caused the avian-raptors to attack the new beloved Fuhrer, Steve.  Those birds really had a deep palpitating hatred for the new beloved Fuhrer.  I was there.  It was emotional and personal."

 "If only that mule was named Francis.  Then we'd get somewhere," Steve argued with himself aloud in that 'I get a headache when I try to think too much' voice.  "And why did you have to cold-cock Herr Schutzstaffel?  Why didn't you use your Dim-mak to put him out?  At least after he showed you the Amber Room."

"You had to be there Steve.  The whole thing was surreal.  But I did get some information you may be able to decipher.  And I believe my theory about the affect of slowing down or stopping ageing   by telomere treatment has been proven theoretically correct that it affects the brains ability to function in a--

 "You say something Magie?'  Steve announced as if he was calling 'All Aboard.'  "Remind me please to get a minute hand for my watch.  I keep forgetting."

"Steve, you haven't been dabbling in telomere experiments yourself have you?  No, you're just naturally... You have that look of pained face you get when you try to think.  Anyway while I was  waiting for you in the hotel lobby this morning I was talking with Father Dallinger who arrived in Panama a few months ago from St. Teresa of Avila Church in your Brooklyn to help with some church work assuring me that there was no sunrise mass at Iglesia Santo Domingo last Sunday or any day as it was closed for the past couple of years because that Arch may fall at anytime.

I assured him it happened  I think he finally believed me.  Father Dallinger said 'Then it was a beautiful gift from God.' "

"We see appearances, Magie. God sees what's in our heart, perhaps it was a gift," Steve said in a nonchalant timbre as he opened the Panama City Blast Sunday paper.  "Why do they hide the funnies?"

"Hmmm. What about Herr Schutzstaffel  I am really thinking that evil nut is Bormann possessed by--"

"Or, maybe he's not possessed but in fact he is really--"

"Don't even think that Steve." Magie's voice shivered.  "I felt an uncanny coldness and hopelessness  when I was with the beloved new Fuhrer.

"New beloved," Steve corrected in a not paying too much attention tone.

 "Thanks. The beer bottle and those birds were heaven sent.  By the way I may have convinced the new beloved Fuhrer he is not really Bormann but some guy named Fatso Fogaty."

"That's nice Magie. I found them.  I knew the funnies were in here someplace."

"No one reads the funnies anymore Steve.  They are so... so passé.  In fact you're passé."  Magie's smile was in her eyes not on her lips, as the waiter Folie A'deux approached with two petite breakfast menu's.

"Ah, Senor,"  Folie expressed excitement seeing potentially paying customers. "We are Folie A'deux, owners and your waiters the famous Folie A'deux. We welcome you to Clopinettes. No doubt you have heard of us."

"We?  Us?" Magie asked.  "But you are by yourself--"

Steve coughs and shakes his head in the negative.

"We are very charmed to meet you my dear.  We are Folie A'deux owners of Clopinettes."

"I believe you might have mentioned that," Magie said suspiciously.

 "No no, beautiful one.  I Folie A'deux speak for myself. And Folie A'deaux speaks for himself. Of course I read all about your dramatic arrival.  Our airport needed to be refurbished anyway.  Would you like a peanut." It was more of a command than a question.

"No," Magie said, in a pleasant tone.  "Thank you."

"But we are famous for our peanuts," Folie A'deux said in a sorrowful voice as he began sniffing.

"Are you crying?"  Magie gasped

"Take the peanut Magie," Steve said, looking up from the funnies, his tone was more of a growl.

"I am not crying Senora, it is Folie crying, I Folie do not cry Senora.  " I am from Samur or er... a, Chinon no no Dange or perhaps even Ingrandes.  Yes perhaps Ingrandes  a--"

"Take the peanut Magie, "Steve said this time showing his fang voice."

"Of course I would love to have one of your famous peanuts."

Folie turning  to himself said, "Give the Senora a peanut.  What?"  Then turning back to Magie said hesitantly in a stiff French high society voice.  "Je suis desole Senora med it que nous sommes tous sur  les aracides aujourd'hui."

"But of course you are," Magie said somewhat exhausted in Steve's world of inane mental gymnastics.

 "Now allow me to order for you," Folie A'deaux said as if they just met.  "For Senor a Breakfast Dumpling Annie with black coffee no cream or sugar and for Senora--"

"Senorita," Magie corrected  "

"Eyy, Bono. No offense Senor Steve destroyer of airports. but we were worr--"

"Not as worried as I was," Steve said not looking up from the funny papers.  Then receiving a sharp kick to his shin. "I know Folie," Steve said in a most business like manner.  "Lets put the facts on the table... you and the whole country of Panama was worried"

"And you Senorita, you would not have a pair of arch supports with you by any chance.  My feet are killing us."

"What would ever make you think I would have.... Never mind.  No, sorry Monsieur A'deux.  Perhaps Steve here would be carrying."

"Don't get me involved in one of your crazy schemes Magie," Steve said not looking up from the funnies.  "These Katzenjammer Kids are just too much."

 "Please just call us Folie. And now the pretty Senorita will have a breakfast Dumpling Annie and green tea with a teaspoon of honey."Folie A'dieux sang out to the tune of the first aria in Traviata ."

 "I'm not even going to ask how he knows how I like my tea."

"Ah, you're learning Magie. Folie A'deux and Folie A'deux are both head of the Cloakroom. Actually they're both nuts.  They seem to be a draw for the truly incompetent.  You know like the British have their SIS. Special Intelligence Service with 'C' in charge.  We have Folie A'deaux in charge of the American version.  The Cloakroom.  Folie was in top management positions at the NSA, DoD, DIA, Booze Consulting and adviser to several Presidents..  Obviously future Presidential timber."

"Obviously.  Please Steve no more I think I'm going to be sick again.  Steve anymore news from your so called 'Other Government Agencies' about getting my sage and his goombah crew Air Piracy charge dropped plus all their other Federal offenses?"

"Folie A'deux is working on it. You should have taken the peanut when they first offered it. Those peanuts go fast. Okay Magie, lets go over again how you messed up last Friday on Herr Schutzstaffel's tub step by step."

"Me you big sissy.  You're the one that mistook the German folk dance in the ship's main ballroom the Schuhplatteltanz, the German Slap Dancing Fighting Dance  for the Ukrainian Polzunok version of the Locomotion Folk Squat Dance and caused a fist fight-- "

"Listen Miss know-it-all everyone mistakes that... that what did you call it?  The German Schlupyants for the Ukrainian Poleknocker Locomotion dance that people dance sitting down, or, knocked down. Beside after being pummeled by a 300 pound German bar maid called Broomhilda I was carried to the ships infirmary to be patched up and rest.  I sneaked out.

 I sneaked out past two Fedayeen commandos and was just  entering the private secured water proof art sonically sealed, atmospherically controlled  section using my guile and agility where every picture in there is hermetically sealed behind a special glass.

 I was just getting a glance of 'Raphael's Portrait of a Gentleman and I think Venus and Psyche by Courbet that both vanished from Berlin just before the Russians took the City.  When out of nowhere the ships horn starts blasting 'Torpedo Sighted  Port-side' causing me to step out of the secured art room to see what was going on and swept up by all crew members from the deck I was on and  decks below me.

 You know how many decks and crew members and guards are on the largest yacht in the world, including a hundred guys from the engine and 'boiler' room and also hundreds of  guests stampeding by me carrying me along... winding back on the dock. And where did those three elephants come from.  Yours Truly was almost trampled.

 All to come to find out you stuffed Herr Schutzstaffel head first into a ships vent because he held your hand causing the Captain to sound his horn in a state of pan--"

"It wasn't like that at all tete de vinde.  Your jealously distorts everything. And your obsession with full figured women.  A 300 pound German bar maid named Broomhilda.  Give me a br--"

"Don't start that nonsense again Magie, That heavy duty bar maid came out of the sun like a Japanese Zero and blind-sided me.  I thought  it was a Sumo wrestlers in Lederhosen I was folk dancing with."

 "I tried to explain to you several times that it was the birds that attacked the new beloved Fuhrer, after I cold-cocked him, herding him head first into that deck vent, almost like it was a planned... you  nitwit--"

"Oh, well why didn't you say that in the first place."

A scream of pure unadulterated frustration escapes Magie's lips causing hundreds of sea birds hunting and pecking along the shore for breakfast to take flight  as Folie A'deux arrived with the Dumpling Annie's and the appropriate beverages.  "A very high strung Senorita," Floie A'deux mumbles to themselves as he clomps back to Clopinettes.

"You never listen to me Steve.  You are such a, a--"

 "Magie you know we only discuss your faux pas.  Not mine.  Birds?  Huh?"

"Before I murder you Steve on this beautiful Sunday morning I want to remind you.  The reason we do not discuss your mistakes is that humans have a limited life span."

"Moi, capable of making a mistake Magie, Surly you jest."

"Do you remember me telling you about how he was about to take me to what he called his Amber Room before he started coughing up hair balls and I conked him with full beer bottle of Turbo Tird  then  the birds arrived.  Evidently he had numerous liaisons with this beautiful Manja, his mistress in this Amber Room.

  After things calmed down and the crew was able to dislodge  the new beloved Fuhrer from the deck vent and just before they abandoned ship I left the new beloved Fuhrer stumbling in a stupor around the deck laughing with his coughing  up hair balls joviality.

"So you didn't get to see if that was the measurements of the real Amber Room or a phony facsimile because your idiot sage and crew blew themselves up... again... with flash/bangs this time as Heavy D told us after she reviewed the military and police report?  Anymore good new you want to share?"
                         
"Yes.  I would like to Dim-Mak your brain but I don't know if I'm that good to death strike something so small.  First, the new beloved Fuhrer requested that  The World Champion Underground International Championship to be rescheduled for Saturday 18 June the day after the new beloved Fuhrer's pre-victory party.  Why?  I didn't have time to find out before the birds attacked.  Oh, I almost forgot, the new beloved Fuhrer plans to kill you at his pre-victory party so he and I can dance as one in the Championship contest.  I'm the only one worthy of dancing the merengue with him?  How?  I--"

"I know, 'You didn't have time to find out.' And you told him?"

"I'd think about it."

Plastic from the table began to rip apart as bullets bit into everything around them. Steve grabbed Magie and both ate sand.

"Tsunami,' cried an early morning beach goer as he ran in a lyrical gait up from the shore seeming to chase several joggers in the distance.
***

JOURNAL ENTRY:

Tuesday
14 June 1994
10:00PM

Restaurant Botiquin  off Calle 5 Avenue A side street in a quiet area. Very Expensive. Extremely populated with late diners without the feeling of being uncomfortably crowded with the upper cream of Panama society.  Famed for its late night fashionable dining.  Panamanian Specialties.  Magie, Steve, Heavy D and Forrest Green are sitting at a candlelight table near an open balcony even though the quiet air conditioning kept  the heat and humidity of the 88 degree outside night temperature at bay, only allowing kisses of breezes to enter.

 The atmosphere is pleasantly warm with a fire place blazing in the back, walls soft red and others adobe white framed in bead black polished wood. A painting of Blessed Virgin Mary appearing to Saint Ildephonsus presenting him with a gift of a golden chasuble in gratitude for his eloquent defense of her.  Red plush table cloths and fine linen napkins with gold veneer utensils  A roving guitar player strumming classical Eddie Arnold wonderful guitar music as only the master guitarist could.

'Fortunately, I knew how to bounce.'

"Poulet, Clan ma Gael style for all," the waiter Yum Yum Cortez said after taking their orders.  Excellent choice, it is Chef El Boyardee's house specialty and the wine you ordered, Choque de Trenes  is superb.  Yum Yum Cortez kisses his fingers and hurls the kiss into the air.  And as an added bonus dear people I want you all to know I have never violated my parole.

The Cloakroom quartet were all wearing their nondescript white noise watches. Steve, wearing a white open neck dress shirt under his black jacket, color coordinated, by 'Accident', Sumari blue chinos and black RR  cowboy boots with official riding heels. No jewelry.  No after shave.

"Now lets get down to business," Heavy D said in a tone only used by a professor of business management with a sore throat would dare use.  Heavy D, carries  a soft sent of  Bull Whacker perfume from Miaow.  Her long black hair flowing like a delicate water fall, slender long pearl earrings is dressed in a black Moo-Moo two piece top and pants set with tiny red miniature roses threaded sparingly throughout.  Black Faux Yenta Yoiks flats.

First, Magie tell us about Herr Schutzstaffel plans to murder Steve at his pre-victory merengue championship party aboard his yacht.  Neither you or Steve know how this is to be accomplished.  I suggest--"

"Wait," Magie interrupted waving her hand in a dismissive manner. Her soft brunette hair is worn swept-up style with humble but majestic turquoise earrings  just a touch of Phantasia irresistible to all men except Steve of course.  Magie was turning heads of the male patrons.  She is attired in a sleeveless  black dress with a low but modest neckline set off by delicate white embroidered  roses and as her dress flows outward below the knee embroidered white rose flowers along the hemline, all by Yolanda's Clandestine Rendezvous' 'Olde Panama.'

"We can talk about Steve's problem later if we have time.  First I want to know if Forest Green here, the gay Shrimper has tested the small explosive and smoke charges that he will use for our merengue entrance and ending.  I don't want to be blown through the ballroom's 25 foot high ceiling by Steve's and Forest's professional nincompoopery.  And thank you for not wearing your giant red sombrero and Panama City's prison clothes Forest.  I almost didn't recognize you with a tux   All though your Mr. Peanut disguise, the high hat, spats and cane and monocle seem a trifle out of place.  Please remove that monocle before I rip it off. I can't take guys who wear monocles."

 "There is always prejudice against we folks who have one weak eye. I assure you Senora that--"

"Senorita, " Magie slammed her words like poker player slams a royal flush hand on the card table.

"Oh, goody.  Iwas worried," Forest lifted up his water glass in toast fashion.

 "I told you that at the airport," Magie said threateningly but calmly.  "I don't like repeating myself."

"Please don't start that again," Steve bemoaned. "No one is more worried than I."  He tried to conceal a Dim-mak pain to his rib area that struck like lightening.

"As I was saying Senorita Magie, you are safer with Steve and I mixing the charges than  you would be in your own mothers arms."

"My mother dropped me... by accident of course.  Fortunately I knew how to bounce."

"Nevertheless--" Forest Green started to say.

"Can we get back to business," Heavy D, 'foghorned.'  "Lives are at stake, pathetic lives but lives just the same."

"Yes. What about my Sage and his crew?"  Magie continued in a pleasant syrupy tone.

"It is being handled by the head of our organization," Heavy D  patiently anointed.  "I'm sure we have enough on the people who can make it all that go away to make it so.".

"Folie A'deux is going to make Air Piracy and all the other stupidity go away?" Magie sighed as Yum Yum Cortez came to the table with a Court Master Sommelier Sir Nada Diein Kallue.  After the Sommelier  sniff-tasting the wine for approval and after he stopped coughing, gaging  and gasping for breath he gave his approval. The waiter Yum Yum and Court Master Sommelier Sir Nada  Diein Kallue, being helped by Yum Yum, retreated hosting self serving smiles of approval. Nada Diein Kallue bowed, doubled up with nose and tongue cramps and painfully said, "You will notice I am wearing two different color socks." Yum Yum called for help from a waiter and waitress to drag Nada Diein Kllue out into the kitchen.

"What?'  "Magie asked shaking her head.  "If these aren't coded messages the waiter and the wine sniffer are leaving go easy on the wine."

 "Listen Magie,"  Heavy D whispered without moving her lips.  Why do you think Folie A'deux is the head of our organization?"

"Steve told me."

Heavy D looked at a smirking Steve then looked back at Magie.  "You know Steve is a prankster.  Folie A'deux is not the head of the Cloakroom.  Folie A'deux is in charge of our intelligence operation.  Don't worry 'The Noggin' s crew will receive an almost unconditional pardon.  It never happened.  Right Steve."

"Almost?" Magie's tone scratched everyone at the table and a few patrons at the next table.

"This wine taste like leaking oil from a Diesel engine that's been in a wreck," Steve remarked in a rejected cavalier fashion.

"Now as far as the shooting this afternoon," Heavy D said with a professional 'Humph.' " I'm afraid I have bad news Magie--" The waiter Yum Yum Cortez arrived with several servers and in no  time they were all chowing down."

"This soup is flat," Steve mumbled something sounding possibly like Esperanto.  "it taste like water?"

"It is water moron," Magie whispered in Gaelic, "It's the finger-bowl."

"This chow is superb," Forest Green said, searching for his monocle to remove, that he all ready removed it after Magie threatend him. Doing his reconnaissance turning his head in a sweeping 180 degree movement.

"I didn't realize you were double jointed, " Magie said almost choking on her bottled, opened at the table with seal intact, water.

"I'm not," Forrest Green squeaked.  "I think I just broke my neck someone call an ambulance."
***

JOURNAL ENTRY:

Wednesday
15 June 1994
12:05AM

Fort Howard Southern Command.
Military Hospital Emergency Room Waiting Area with it's yellow and white surrounding.  A few pictures of aircraft hung on the wall alongside several collages of unit insignia's. 

'Another revolting development.'

"The doctors will let us know what's happening with Forest as soon as they know.  They're calling in a specialist," Steve said as he sat down on yellow worn but comfortable chair in a private off room of the ER.

"I'm sure he'll be all right," Magie said sitting next to Heavy D on a slightly slanted green well worn couch.

"He's an idiot," Heavy D said as if giving a command.   "Now listen Magie, I told you and the other idiot that I had bad news for you.  Did you ever hear of an old guy that has snow shoe feet called 'Oldman' Grunt in 'The Big C'?"

"Sure," Steve said suavely   " He likes to lurk in shadows at night by the Private Receiving Emergency Hospital and give the town folks piggyback rides, the county fathers made him get a hack license boy was he--"

"Piggyback rides taking town folks to their destinations?"  Magie said sardonically.  "Sorry Heavy D.  Now you see what my penance is."

"I'm use to this Magie. You're just lucky the nut the doctors are looking at isn't your partner."

"What are you frails I mean ladies yackin'  about.  It's all true. He owns kind of weird Dairy Farm. He thinks he has an airport on his farm.  Keeps dirigibles for pets... something like your sage Magie   The only dairy farm in the county that some one scribbles graffiti on the side of his cows.  The local authorities think it's some kind of escaped monkey doing the scribbling.  Maybe a leftover from the prehistoric area?  Other than these and a few other quirks he 's as normal as Magie."

"You bounder you. Will you be quiet Steve, Heavy D is trying to tell us something."

"He also has scheduled B 19 flights out of his pasture for points unknown."  Steve spoke rapidly so he could squeeze everything in until both ladies showed their feline fangs.

"He's the one that fired the shots at you two when you were dining at Clopinettes," Heavy D snorted.

"Old man Grunt," Steve asked.  "We don't even know him other than a--"

"Magie  knows him," Heavy D  said."

"I do?"

"Rather he knows you. Grunt talked. Spilled his Ham and Cabbage  He ran the IRA cell from his dairy farm outside 'The Big C.' His code name is Schmoe."

"A guy named Schmoe." Magie and Steve blurted simultaneously.

"That's what the Tongan yelled in Pigeon Tongan," Steve announced in his 'Elementary Watson' sounding voice.

"I told you that you--" Magie started to say.

  "The strange part is coming.  Your  Dad and Grandfather were killed by the IRA in South Armagh Northern Ireland when they protested all the useless violence ago."

"Yes, it is still painful for me."

 "I know, I'm so sorry.  Moe Liebowitz head of the IRA and secretly owned Moe Liebowitz Discount Convertible Couches Store in downtown Havana, but who secretly lived in the basement of the Four Square Laundromat in Belfast   declared  you father and grandfather traitors and swore  the  Satanic 'Rubadubdubthreemeninatub' curse on all their offspring before they all were inducted into secure hospital facility for the criminally insane someplace in Northern Ireland."

"That would be Dara Adair's Bawn Mansion for the Criminally Insane," Magie thought almost to herself.  "And the push-up guy that was doing push-ups at my front door to impress me with 'The Big C' courting ritual was a assassin sent by Moe Liebowitz to get me."

"Yeah," Steve said slyly with a hint of tease.  "The guy that wore that T-shirt in the middle of winter 'Life is Short and so am I'...  Didn't he drive a Castro convertible ...what ever happened to him?"

"Yes," Magie agreed in a thoughtful whisper. "He vanished into thin air off my 3rd floor landing.  Didn't even say goodbye."

"Anyway Magie, when your Mom escaped and took you  too Pottsville Pennsylvania where she had relatives in the Molly MaGuire's you where safe until you moved to 'The Big C.' After your Mom was abducted by Aliens."

"Your Mom was abducted by Aliens, Extra Terrestrials from..." Steve squinted his words.  "I didn't know that Heavy D."

"That's because you don't read all the intelligence reports you get," Heavy D barked.  "You're supposed to read them before you destroy them."

"Oh... I see," Steve announced in a tone reminiscent of the blindfolded man that picked up his hammer and saw.

"Mother was abducted by 'Beliziens' on a nature walk you idiot, Magie said in a matter-of-fact way.

"Belizeians, I'm not familiar with that planet," Steve announced proudly.  "Is that in the constellation of Onions?"

"Onions/  I think you mean the constellation of Orion. It's the Country of Belize,"  Heavy D barked again this time with impatience.

"Mother now owns a resort in Belmopan.  Her abductors weren't too bright.  Like you Steve."

"Belmopan," Steve reminisced.  "Now I know that's in the constellation of Bunions...   Is all this true? Then there is life out there and it's us. I have to start reading intelligence reports before I burn them.  Why didn't someone tell me." Steve asked in a soft concerned tone putting his arm around Magie in a consoling fashion."  Moe Liebowitz?"

"Bunions?  Yes Steve it's all true. All except the crazy part,"  Magie said in her reminiscing voice.

Steve and Heavy D looked at each other.  "The crazy part?"  Steve asked gently.

"I don't remember much," Magie said softly.  Her tone was that of a heavy weight boxer softening up some drunk in an ally before rolling him. "I was very young when we arrived in Pottsville.  We moved next to a Spetznaz Russian soldier who changed sides.  He taught me all about Dim-Mak.  I remember later the church burned down with all the towns records in it.

After I received several doctorates from various universities at the age of 13 the Molly Maguire's sent me to, with Mom's permission,  just before she was abducted by--"

"Don't start that outer space stuff again," Steve ordered as if he was ordering a Nedicks orange drink.

"I returned to Pottsville as the Church was on fire again. That's when I first met my sage Sir Doo Doo Fazoo.  As his limousine drove by me on an old dirt road near some mines. He was beating his chauffeur Goombah Wong from the back seat with an old map.

He was yelling something about his goombah chauffer being a ferbonie and screaming hysterically 'Where are we ya ferbonie?'  I guess they saw me and asked for directions and I told them how to get out of Pottsville without driving into more mine shafts.  My sage was so appreciative he gave me his goombah business card and said, 'When you come to 'The Big C' as everyone in the whole ferbonie world does eventually look me up.  Just ask anyone where  'The Noggin's' mansion is.  With your white frock on I believe designed  by  'Brash Women of  Hair Pin Missouri' you looks like a scientist that's ready to bloom.  I have some goombah connections in the scientific world.' I was wearing my junior genius white frock and carrying a scientific looking book by Aristotle written in ancient Greek."

"Of course you were," Steve stick balled his words over the second manhole cover.

"I asked him does he have any water and he gave an unopened  bottle of cold water and it tasted  good.  I could never pay him back for that kindness."

"Thank you Magie," Steve said shaking his head.  "That's the most pathetic story I've ever heard."

"Obviously Swine.  I er, mean Steve you have never been thirsty."

"So Old man Grunt was behind all these killings and I thought all these nuts were after me?'

"Steve don't get too cocky."  Heavy D politely snorted.  "You have your own set of screwballs that are after you, Herr Schutzstaffel and the Tongan, an IRA assassin, are still  after you, the Tongan by proxy because you are with Magie.  We don't know where the Tongan is at this moment.  Probably on The Thirteenth Ordinance.  And some idiot Commissar Otnot from INTERPOL or the Polish Army, he doesn't seem to know himself, checked into the Caesar Palace bugging our Lost and Found office claiming some Pluto disappeared. We're checking all the all the dog catchers now.  And Molly from Molly's Tavern back in 'The Big C' and a nut that thinks she's some kind of prehistoric bird is travelling with him we think as hostages or prisoners.  Folie A'deux is on the case."

"That shouldn't cause any drama," Magie sighed one of those long French Riviera sighs of  waitress  dealing with an idiot  celebrity.

"Acid Burns," Steve said in a disturbed voice.

"Thank you Steve, Heavy D unloaded. "We've all have taken biology 101."

"No no," Steve fired back.  "She's a rabid peacock that thinks she a waitress at Molly's.  Or vise-versa. I've have heard of Commissar Otnot and I believe he has a psychic dog Pluto.  I wonder if he knows Mickey? Why are they all here?"

"This Molly and her bird woman who were supposed to send  terrorist to Panama Central America for some reason sent a group of International Terrorist wanted by 140 countries and all trained by the IRA to Pomona Kansas Middle America.  We had the Panama City airport covered ready to nab them when they arrived but they never showed.  We thought there was a leak and they canceled their plans.  Come to hear these two idiots sent them to Pomona. All were nabbed by local police.

Now my sources say Commissar Otnot is after the Tongan and he believes Molly and the bird lady can spot her.   You know the trouble I had refurbishing two broom closets to get them into the Caesar Palace?  We're overbooked for the Merengue Championship.  Otnot's group are all complaining they have to sleep standing up and they're all in some kind of casts.  So I had restraints installed for the Commissar so they can doze off standing up without falling at night."

"Nice touch," Steve said in his latest new age fad voice.  "Torture.  Ya know Pluto may not be a dog Heavy D, you may want to check the local fruit-cake establishments.?"

"Casts?"  Magie asked in a tone that would do honor to her now above 300 IQ.

"They claim they were mugged by some berserk taxi driver back in the States,"  Heavy D said in her 'Yea Right' voice.  "Steve your dilemma is even more twisted.  Our Chief of Intelligence--"

"Folie A'deux, Heavy D?"  Magie questioned sadly.

"Right.  Now Magie don't freak out on us but there is a Federal Judge Quackers in New York who is connected.  He put a hit out on Steve for something Steve did concerning the flyin' something and an Italian  Nuclear terrorist  gang Steve destroyed, probably by accident, the way he finishes all his assignments--"

"Never mind the kudos Heavy D.  Who's after us now?"

"There's no us Steve.  Just you."  Magie slipped in her addendum.

"I knew I could count on your support Magie.  There is one thing I can always rely on, Magie always has my back."

"Will you two shut up.  You sound like an old married couple.  Magie your Sage Doo Doo 'The Noggin' accepted the hit on Steve.  Doing away with Steve and bringing Bilderbergers Roller Derby team back to 'The Big C' and if 'The Noggin's' Bilderberger team beats  this other goombah idiot Piggy Banks from Queens  your Sage will become the biggest goombah in the world which will knock off  the present biggest goombah in the world Barney Bongos of Queens."

"I can't believe my sage would want to kill Steve.  I mean he would have to get in line.  And Sir Doo Doo has no patients for lines."

"I have a plan, with your and Steve's permission,"  Heavy D said, a smile grew slowly.

"Is it dangerous?"  Steve snapped timidly.

"Not for you, Steve," Heavy D whispered.  Possibly for Magie."

"Then by all means." Steve said gallantly.

"Thank you pygal-brain,"  Magie sneered her words.  "And please be quiet.  As long as my Sage is not harmed.  Sir Doo Doo must be delirious from all the blows on his head and the explosions over the years he accidentally set off and of course years of suffering TPR."

"TPR?"  Heavy D question.  "Is it catching?"

"Don't ask," Steve's advice was not heeded.

"Traumatic Potty Rage"  Magie answered charitably.  "Something to do with rhinoceroses I believe. It all started when--"

"Magie, please don't start that again.  Please.  Listen Magie," Steve said with sympathy dripping in his low guttural growl.  "I'll do everything I can to protect your sage.  But I may not be able to protect 'The Noggin' from himself.  You'll have to help in that area."

"If we pull your sage out now Judge Quackers might get suspicious.  He's on his way down here to Herr Schutzstaffel pre-victory party on his yacht,"  Heavy D said, her words of knowledge were almost impressive.

 "I took the liberty of sending official  Herr Schutzstaffel invitations, forgeries of course complements of Section Nine, to all involved.  Your Sage and crew should be able to see and hear by then.  I even invited the Jackasses girl Ploop de la Ploop that may be bait for that slippery terrorist Carlos  the Jackass, Ilich Ramirez Sanchez to make an appearance. It's a chance to fly an upside down broom on our mast indicating a clean sweep if we're lucky.  Now here's my plan--"

"What about the idiot at Cloponettes beach that was yelling  'Tsunami" as we were being fired on?"  Magie asked, holding her breath.

"Our investigation showed that was a fluke.  It was an early morning beach jogger yelling for a Salami.  Another specialty of Claponettes."

"I can't take this stupidity anymore.  Steve what kind of moronic world did you drag me into?"

"I believe you volunteered Magie," Steve said in a strong soft machismo tone. "Besides--"

"Are you the folks the relatives waiting Forest Green?"  Doctor Trombella asked.  "Of course you are.  You all look...  never mind."

"Yeah, yeah. What's the scoop doc?' Steve asked. hurriedly.

"Yes the Cloakroom people, we've been briefed.  Everyone in this small section has Top Secret clearance.  Your team member is not in any pain just suffering from EDS."

A question mark lit up on everyone's face  except Magie's. "It's Ehlers-Danlo syndrome.  Kind of a skeletal double joint and ligament problem that can come on suddenly and violently," Magie informed in a very concerned tone.

"He'll have to stay here for a couple of days.  I've given him small doses of a muscle relaxant.  Mr. Green will be fine.  Of course he will have to walk backwards for a couple of days after he's released to see where he is going then sideways for another day or week until his neck is able to turn his head back to normal from his 180 degree turn."

" 'Another revolting development.' "  Magie and Heavy D said at the same time.
***

JOURNAL ENTRY:

Friday
17 June 1994
7:00 PM

Herr Schutzstaffel Yacht 'The Thirteenth Ordinance.  Herr Schutzstaffel and Magie's Birthday.
Hundreds of Party Goers readying themselves to sing Happy Birthday to the new beloved Fuhrer and then for a finale as they dine on Sauerkraut and Potato Pancakes and Potato soup, Herr Schutzstaffel will perform his winning moves tonight for The International Underground Merenge Championship tomorrow at the Caesar Palace Hotel Ballroom 

'The Luck of the Stupid.'

"Look at this again  Magie," Steve, dressed in white tropic turtleneck under a Ninja blue sport jacket, tan chinos, designed by 'Cortinas' and dark suede RR boots,  whispered out of the side of his mouth, "Now Shutzstaffel invited every crook, politician, grafter, pervert, murder, two bit dictator moron, slave trader and bonehead from the United Nations General Assembly and associated halfwit criminal UN missions, delegations councils--"

"I thought the Gay Shrimper would be able to walk normally by now," Magie said with a smidge of anxious  timbre.

Three nervous four ton elephant troubadours picked their way carefully around the fashionably mobbed lower party deck by elephant trainer Kurt Daluege dressed as a  clown and recently diagnosed with advanced dementia paralytica. A not so distant relation to Kurt Daluege, Chief of Main Office of the Ordinary Police in Hitler's Third Reich who became insane after developing an acute case of dementia paralytica.

 "How can he function walking sideways?"

"People just think he's doing the Stroll Magie.  C'mon give the guy a break."

 "I hope Heavy D's plan works inviting everyone involved in our mission here with those phony invitations." Magie said in that 'Bells Toll for Me' tone.

"Those invites look better than the real ones--"  Steve whispered with humility.

"Hey caballeros,"  Forest Green said as he ankled up to Steve and Magie by doing the moves of that dance sensation, The Stroll.  "Ya notice how the neighborhood just went down the tubes when all these UN dirtbags arrived."

"Steve just gave me and Heavy D a lecture on dirtbags," Magie smiled.  "We all know 99.8 percent of the UN is made of barbarian creeps."

"Pure.  And it floats too," Steve reminded everyone although no one knew what he was blabbing about.

"Floats?  Forget those slimeballs," Forest Green said  in a excited 'Shrimpmen Are A Comin' voice.  "That nut elephant trainer paid me 100 bucks to teach his elephants The Stroll."

"Wonderful," Magie announced. "Why don't you teach them the Locomotiom too you--"

"No no.  Listen that elephant trainer is really a wierdo so we got chummy.  He's  taught the elephants to sit on some guy when a beautiful woman comes up to the poor sap and places this sailor peanut hat on his head like the one I'm wearing.

 And all that idiot trainer has to say the key word and the elephants take turns sitting on the head of the nearest guy with a peanut hat on his head.  It's gonna be a blast.  What a beautiful assassination and the trainer can't be held responsible because he's nuttier than Heavy D."

"We have to save this poor sap, Magie," Steve said under his breath as his eyes searched the area.  "We'll have to put our plans on hold and not worry about Herr Schutzstaffel gonna try to kill yours truly."

"Morons. Forest I would start by taking your peanut sailor hat off right now. The trainer is not as nuts as you or Bozo here my partner and I mean the clown not the magnificent tribe in Mali," Magie's intensified words carried a knuckle sandwich to Steve and Forest.  "Don't you nincompoops realize Steve's the poor sap."

"The dickens you say, Magie,"  Steve said in a dead pan voice.  "I wonder if anyone on board knows where Dorthy Lamour lives?  I hear she moved to Panama."

"Dorthy Lamour?  What does she have to do with this? Never  mind. Will you stop talking like that 'dickens' stuff," Magie pleaded in a soft French accent.  "Steve I know you're protected by the 'Luck of the Stupid' but  don't let anyone put a peanut on your head.  Forest what is the key word to cause the elephants to do this?"

"Key word?  I don't know.  I had this urge to do the Stroll and--"

"Wait,"  Magie ordered as if she was calling 'halt' to a marching band. "Does any one hear a marimba band music, like those poor souls were playing that night we arrived at the airport before the marimba players abandoned float?  Now it stopped."

"That's just a marimba band that Herr Schutzstaffel probably hired for his pre-victory party," Forest Green said in a painful lament as he tried to turn his head without doing  The Stroll. "They're just playin' an old marimba favorite, 'The Jerk in the Black Cape."

"There it is again," Magie said as if she spotted a periscope of an enemy submarine.  "Now it submerged again in this crowd of  yacht guest."

"Guest," Steve said in a snarl.  "This looks like a convention of the most wanted posters for the past 30, maybe 40 years.  Murders, perverts, professional nincompoops, crooks, arsonists, white collar criminals, politicians, con-men--"

"Don't start that again.  And really 'Con-people' Steve.  We must always be 'gender neutral.' " Magie reminded him in a tone reminiscent of the first official meeting at O'Tannenbaums in the 'Big C.'  "There are women politicians too Steve."

"And you... please don't start that nudist talk again," Steve  commented as if he was critiquing, a painting of a spilled paint blotch on a canvas selling for a million dollars that 'know-it-all's' that know nothing about art throw their money after, which is okay if it is really their own money. "Since our last visit I have pondered what type of wood this deck is made of.  I'm open for a detailed discussion on this subject if--"

"You're are right Magie," Heavy D confirmed in a tone that is used when someone said, 'on the other end of the phone line: 'yes you have the right number but no one is here in fact we don'r even have a phone.'  "That man by the rail with knobby knees outfitted in an original Yenta Yoiks Duck hunting attire  talking to Commandant Porcha that's U.S. Federal Judge Quackers."

"Are you sure Heavy D?" Steve demanded to know in no uncertain terms still trying to figure what kind of wood the deck was made.
                                                                           
"Sure I'm sure.  That idiot always reminded me of my aunt Agatha."


                                                                                  ***

Ja ja, Stumpfegger why ist we getting so many guest?  I ist not remembering inviting all these subhumans. The Boobie's ist telling me all that is coming aboard is having mein special Fuhrer Invitation.  You dummkopf Stumpfegger.  I ist putting you in charge of being sent out mein beautiful golden engraved Fuhrer invitations.

Ja ja, you ist botching that up you dunderhead. The Captain Basurero here, I ist forgetting the dummkopfs name, or ist I saying it?   Ist telling me mein Fuher mega-yacht ist over crowded. Unt who ist those dummkopfs two being in wheelchairs unt the other one in bandages unt finer und toe casts.  Ist mein yacht un hospital yacht?  To the wheelhouse immediately dummkopfs."

"Mein new beloved Fuhrer," Captain Enriqo Basurero groaned.  You are in the wheelhouse.  Request permission to engage the bilge pumps aft.  With this heavy load of guests we only have occupancy for 35 plus 100 guests and our crew.  We are at least three times over that not counting your Fuhrer Troubadour  Elephants.  We are in danger of listing to port."

Ja ja.  Permission denied.  Unt the Bobbies ist telling me Ilich Ramirez Sanchez alais Carlos  the Jackass  unt his publicity agent ist signed in unt on board. Unt some dummkopf put a hoof print on mein sign in sheet. Commandant Porcha haveenzie your Fedayeen Commandos find the Jackass unt bring that idiot to me before he ist blowing up mein mega yacht unt have them recheck all these free loaders invitations again.  At Fuhrer-once."

"Jawhol mein new beloved Fuhrefr.  It ist being done immediately unt I ist still not sweat--"  Commandant Porcha sinks to the floor unconscious.

 Ja ja. I ist meeting unt now seeing some idiot in a black cape  doing close order drill with a marimba band.  Every  time this dummkopf said his name when he ist introducing himself to the new beloved Fuhrer, me his schwein marimba band ist starting to play this old marimba favorite that the old beloved Fuhrer Dolph ist liking so being much when he ist donning his Fuhrer cape.  'The Jerk being in the Black Cape.' "

"Maybe mein new beloved Fuhrer this schweinhund upstart ist planning to being the 'new' new beloved Fuhrer." Stumpfegger's diagnosis.

Ja ja, if this ist being Fuhrer-so making Fuhrer sure the jerk in the blackenzie cape ist wearing un sailor hats as well as Steve Ptah, when mein elephant troubadours start playin' unt swinging their heavy drum mallets. I ist ist killin' both schweinhund's.  Steve Path with mein Fuhrer...  Why ist it I ist saying this?"

"It will be done mein new beloved Fuhrer.  I Commandant Porcha ist doing this Fuhrer immediately as soon as I can be getting up from this schwein floor-deck.. Unt the Tongan?  ist I releasing her or ist mein new beloved Fuhrer still holding the Tongan as un back-up?" Commandant Porcha eyes sunk back into her head as she collapsed again on the floor of the wheel house moaning I ist not sweating, then...snoring"

.                                                                                ***                                                        

"Ja ja. I ist must not be being seen by mein adoring public until that idiot flies out of the sky unt lands behind mein special Fuhrer curtain so all mein adoring dudnderheads will being thinking it ist I your new beloved Fuhrer who ist making un spectacular entrance.  Unt then I will announce who I really is being... er  who ist I really ist?" Herr Schutzstaffel announced in no uncertain terms to his inner Fuhrer circle."

"You ist really being ist  Martin Bormann  Executive Head of the Nazi Party unt the old Fuhrer, Dolph's Executive Secretary.,.  I ist thinking."  Stumpfegger turned his fez 'Hmmm?' style.  "It ist being so long ago."

"Ja ja.  Who?  Unt who ist being this nut.  I ist Fuher-ordering you to stop him, Commandant Porcha from doing this Ameican- Stroll. That Fuhrer-moron has mein trained troubadour elephant now doing this American degrading Stroll.

 Ja ja, Leting me see mien new beloved Fuhrer-invitations list that I  ist I inviting all these  dummkopfs to my pre-victory party."  After looking at it the golden enamored invite Fuhrer-list Herr Shutzstaffel Fuhrer-yells, " 'Stumfegger.'  how ist all these dummkopfs having mein Fuhrer-invitations you ist being dudnderhead.  Who ist being all these broken-inutile dummkofps?'   They is not being on mein beloved Fuhrer-list."

"I ist here mein new beloved Fuhrer," Stumpfegger announces in a 'Call for Philip Morris' voice as he steps over a prone Commandant Porcha.

"Ja ja Fuhrer-idiot I ist knowing you ist here...  what I ist wanting to know ist why ist I your new beloved Fuhrer ist here?  Ist someone having a Fuhrer-party?" Herr Schutzstaffel asks as he stumbles out of the pilot house and yells into the ships loud speaker system set up in various areas for the new beloved Fuhre's pre-victory party..

'You ist here mein new beloved Fuhrer for your pre-victory ," Stumpfegger achtung's his reply

                                                                                  ***

"Oh look the elephants are coming and they are swinging their heavy mallet on the metal drums and blowing their bugles carried by... is that the Uuu Duu Flooks Mind Blinkers New Aging  Chanters?' Magie asks.  "I read about them in The Canal Blast."

                                                                                  ***

Ja ja.  Oh Fuhrer-goody the elephants.  Ist I being un elephant trainer?"  His voice resonates throughout the mega-yacht.

"It looks like our Martin Bormann's elevator cable finally snapped,' Steve whispers to Magie in a voice so low she couldn't hear a word.

"Don't blow in my ear you idiot," Magie shouts in an Yahooo voice that turns heads. "You might have breath cooties."

"Look precious one I wouldn't blow in your ear I'd be afraid  I would blow your precious ten thousand IQ of yours out the other side.  I was whispering sweet things like your buddy here the new beloved Fuhrer is not only a few pickles shy a barrel he tipped the whole barrel over."

"Ten thousand IQ Steve, you flatter me.  Are you thinking the same thing I'm thinking.?"

"Of course.  Errr, what a you got bubbling in that Nobel Prize brain of yours?"

"Divine Mercy Steve.  I truly believe this murderer, arch criminal, scourge of  humanity is 'the' Martin Bormann and is not only becoming more stupid at a speed faster than light, which by the way is a project I have almost completed that their are at least several things in the universe faster than the speed of light--"

"Please Magie no commercials."

"You are such a swine.  "His telomere surgey is not making him loose his memory. memory is fine.  he is becoming more of an idiot than he was 50 years ago.. .  which is seemingly impossible. But is being tortured in his own mind like the other poor souls that dabbled in telomere regeneration, Commandant Porcha--"

"Who we discovered is Gestapo Heinrich Muller the--"

"Do you mind Steve.  Stop interrupting.  Poor souls that like Commandant Porcha, Stumpfegger and some of the other Thrid Reich monster-loser-creeps.  If we put them out of their misery by sanctioning them--"

We would be ending their torture... misery.  This way they will live on as Third Reich Nazi murders, subhumans  buffoons, clowns, nincompoops disgracing the whole Nazi regime and their supporters. .  Always being hunted while being mocked by the world as well as imprisoned inside their own heinous ever-so-slowly decaying minds."

"Perhaps Hitler got what he wanted in hoping for a thousand year Reich... of fools," Heavy D promulgated in almost a deep stupor.

"Magie, slightly smiled.  "Be careful what you ask for, you might get it."

"So you're saying Magie, by following Gods example of pursuing Divine Mercy and letting them physically exist, not live, we are allowing them to wallow in the boiling slime of hell."

"I don't think I could put it in poetry like that but... Exactly.  Even if their memories finally are lost, which I doubt based on my algorithm's, they'll still be only existing  continuing not only being helpless dupes suffering almost eternally in this life and eternally  in the one to come.  Of course that's up th the Eternal Father not to us."

"The brass is not gonna like that Magie."

"We only care what God likes.  Right Steve.

"Can't argue with that."

Okay Steve,  so we know what we're going to to with these pathetic Nazi fools.  Now is there anyone else that wants to kill you besides my sage, the mule guy terrorist, Judge Quackers,  The Tongan?  Am, I forgetting anyone? Oh yes--"

"Look out you two." Heavy D, foghorns.
***

JOURNAL ENTRY:

Friday
17 June 1994
9:28 PM

Herr Schutzstaffel Yacht The Thirteenth Ordinance.
Main Deck just a bit off the Opulent Deck. Crowded Stern, Port-side.
Elephant Troubadours just finishing a Drum and Bugle presentation.
Now headed forward Starboard-side.

'Your man in Panama.'

"Did any of you ferbonies hear a loud crashing?"  'The Noggin'screamed hysterically in a high pitched. goombah terror voice as his wiggling ears seemed to be signaling an 'SOS.'

"Hey 'Noggin' it's me."  A gruff voice came slugging its way out a the crowed before slipping on elephant spore.

"Yeah I'm 'The Noggin' @ who's yakin'?"

"I believe that's 'Whom' is yackin',"  Gommbah Wong corrected

"A shut up ya ferbonie."

"OH, yuck,  Whad id I step in? It's me 'Noggin,' your man in Panama, Reely- Kerappola with a 'K' I'm not confused with the outlaw branch of the fam..  Where's that marimba music commin' from and why is you guys all bandaged up.  Looks like ya been in a gang war with the Pastafazu family."

" 'The Noggin' @ ain't rememberin' any Reely-Kerappola in Panama--"

"Where's that marimba music comin' from?  Ain't that the famous marimba tune  'The Jerk in the Black Cape?' "

"What a ya blind ya ferbonie?  'The Noggin' @ is the only one here in a black goombah cape."

"Beg Pardon Sir Doo Doo," Phibbs announced as if he just polished the Royal silver.  "But you had me hire a  Relly-Kerappola, the goombah who has his eyes on becoming the next Duke of Sherwood Forest, as a plant in Panama to alert you to all movements.  I must say it wasn't of any use--"

"Sherwood Forest? Ducks, plants in a forest? Oh right ya ferbonie.  The Noggin'@ remembers now  Yeah 'The Noggin' @  tells yas to keep 'The Noggin'@ informed of all movements."

" Yeah Noggin and it ain't been easy.  Where is that Music comin' from?  I hadda hustle. I was arrested 17 times.  I'm out on pervert parole now.  Ya gotta give me a bonus."

"A bonus,"  Phibbs said stiff upper lift style.  "All we received 'Sir Noggin' were reports on bowl movements of the entire population of Panama City, Panama."

"Bowl movements ya ferbonie?  I wanted 'all' movements ya ferbonie, not bowl movement of whats happenin' in Panama City.  All movements.  What's 'The Nogging'@ gonna do with a list of bowl movements of the ferbonie population of Panama City?"

"Hey 'Noggin' ya know in the world of goombahs the ways of 'The Noggin' are not to be questioned. Where in goombah land is that music comin' from every time you munch ya name 'Noggin?" Reely-Kerappola  demanded to know.  "Look 'Noggin' I'm in enough trouble with the law now.  I start checkin' on Owl bowel movements and I'll have bird watchers from all over the world on my tail.  It 'll take me years runnin' around the the junglw checkin' on owl--"

"'The Noggin' said 'All' movements ya ferbonie.  Not 'Owl Bowl' movements ya--"

"Ya want me ta blow this idiot away 'Noggin?' " The Brooklyn Creeper ankled up to Reely- Kerappola.  "I got enough lead in my gat to turn this jamoke into a sinker."

"Easy Leaper, ya talkin about a Pastafazu Goombah.  Only a Goombah can blow away another Goombah  and only after the families hoe down.  And Reaper you ain't no goombah.  We ain't knowin' what ya is."

"Yeah, well you get my name wrong again and I'm gonna have to go down and see who you were,"  The Brooklyn Creeper's tone was that of someone sitting down on a sharp tack.

"Look Creeper," Myron Insolentt squeaked.  "What you just said makes absolutely no sense."

"Cents? Maybe youse aint got no change but I gots plenty of coin and lots a cents chubs and the Creeper is well heeled.  Eat hot lead.   Wait.  I forgot I ain't carrying thanks to Frau Cucumber over there."

"Puckarber ya--"

"Enough ya ferbonies.  'The Noggin'@ and his ferbonie crew is here to carry out a contract on Steve Ptah, 'The Noggin's'@ sweeties ferbonie  sweetie. What did 'The Noggin'@ just say? Never minds, it's just ferbonie goombah-speak. And I got it from a goombah source that the ferbonie Judge Quackers is here tonight to see it's done right.  Okay Carlos Ramirez Sanchez the Jackass your up.  Get Ptah and get the ferbonie good."

"Is he talkin' to the mule?'  Reely-Kerappola asked in a tone that could  only be heard by 'Psychcogonist'* (See Log One.)  in a mental hospital calling for more straight jackets 'stat.'

"That's the feared terrorist the Jackass, ya doofus,"  Goombah Wong bellowed.  "He really is a Jackass."

"Oh," Reely-Kerapola said.  "Listen 'Noggin' before ya bump off this Ptah stooge I Reely-Kerapola just came up with a super-goombah click.  We got the list of the whole population of Panama City's bowl movements.  Lets blackmail the City.  If they don't pay up  we release the lists to the media.  There always eatin' that stuff up."

A shot from a Derringer was heard as Reely-Kerapola fell over, a paper wad smashed and still smoking on Reely-Kerappola  forehead.  As  'The Noggin' 'tenored'  "Eat deck.  Then slowly  serpentines  his Derringer back into his safari jerkin arm slot.

"Perhaps 'The Noggin'@ has been too hasty.  Blackmailing the whole City of Panama by publishing their ferbonie bowl movements if they don't pay up. Goombah Wong ya ferbonie.  Get on this right away and take the other ferbonie Insolentt with you.  He has a potential goombah knack with woids."

"I knowed ya would just love it 'Noggin.' "Reely-Kerappola sing-sang his patter.  "But how youse guys gonna track all these owls in the jungle?"

  A pitiful scream was heard again.  Myron Insolentt, who was standing by the yacht's railing, was missing.  Then a humongous splash...

"What was that loud bang ya ferbonies?"
***

JOURNAL ENTRY:

Friday
17 June 1994
9:22PM

A creaking Arado 96, 1938 training plane 2 seated, front and back, flying at an oxygen depriving altitude, with bullet holes, from flying out of Berlin as the Russians closed off the city in 1945, circles high above the Canal.  Below, a fog bank thicker than a spilled bottle of  1946 black ink makes it impossible to  spot the The Thirteenth Ordinance anchored below even with the yachts party lights blazing.  

The pilot of the Arado 96, Captain 'Smilin' Fritz 'I had nothin' to do with concentration camp experiments' Sauckel, doesn't notice two Navy F/A 18A interceptor jet fighters approaching the 'NO FLIGHT ZONE' over the Canal, as he has other problems to deal with.  The 12 foot long Cello rocket stick is protruding out the movable sliding cockpit windscreen being held  in the back-seat with tenuous grip of Abu Bashir straddling the  Rocket stick. Both gasping for oxygen.

'What does metal fatigue sound like?'

"Blasphemer," Abu Bakar Bashir cries out.  "Where is my parachute in case I Abu Bakar Bashir eater of Goat Cheese Terrine has to scarber?"

"Parachutes are for sissy's Abu." Smilin' Fritz yelled into the slipstream fog bank as he looked up into the fog smilin' with a grin that told it was the smirk of evil.  I never take them when I am Fuhrer soaring into fog banks at night.  I have complete faith in our new beloved Fuhrer--"

"Blasphemer," Abu Bashir cries out.  "why do I Abu  er whatever Bashir eater of Goat Cheese Terrine have to take my new beloved Fuhrer's place jumping out of this machine that flies making a spectacular entrance for my new beloved Fuhrer Herr Schutzstaffel and he gets all the credit."

"Because he is our new beloved Fuhrer," Captain Smilin' Fritz, always Smlin' always looking up in the wrong direction, always flying the wrong way and attired in Welsh mining clothes,   Rugby shoes, mauve colored Andorran beret and wearing a fake long thin dueling scar under his right eye,  yelled over the slipstream rushing by the open cocpit. "Do you remember if I took all my medications before we took off Abu?"

"I hear someone speaking to me from above outside this blasphemer flyin' contraption.  Is that you Albert Choo--"  Bashir's self-psychoanalyzing of himself was cut short by the sound of metal and wood bending loud enough to be heard through  the stampeding air outside the open cockpit of the crowded two seater  trembling aircraft

  "Now remember Abu, I have your guidance control system for your rocket cello shape stick on my lap.  It is electronically talking to the receiver remote control on our new beloved Fuhrer Herr Schutzstaffel's mega yacht where our new beloved is waiting behind the Fuhrer curtain to step out and take credit for your dare devil suicidal entrance.

"Suicidal?  Blasphemer.  No one said sui--"

  "It, it is weight sensitive so do not stop off any place for a drink on your way down.  It will automatically take you to a soft landing behind the curtain screen on the mega-yacht.  Just remember to wave to the guests on the yacht.  They will think you are Herr Schutzstaffel making a spectacular Fuhrer entrance.  Now remember do not touch any of the controls. just push the--"

"Look  you dog of a  blasphemer... Suicidal? No one said anything about... Blasphemer."  Abu Bashir," who is wearing a sun glassed monocle slightly cracked, Herr Schutzstaffel Army Field Marshal uniform with a Martin Bormann name tag in Nero Wreath gold over countless medals, political buttons, a 1938 Berlin parking ticket, store coupons and what can only be described as a wrapper off an old Donald Duck fruit juice can from the  1940's.  "Blasphemer pilot I cannot see anything in this fog.  What is that blasphemer sound?  You blasphemer pilot... what does the sound of metal fatigue sound like?"

"Huh?  There is the green light. Turn on the amplifier music of the Horst Wessel song of our glorious SA triumphs."

"Blamphemer music never," Abu screams.  I Abu Bashir, eater of Goat Cheese Terrine have chosen the music of my people of...of  er... the Gay Gordon."

 "The what?  ,,, never mind ya...  We are locked in.  Now jump then ignite.  Push the--"

"Before Captain Smilin' Fritz can finish one of the interceptors does a flyby with after burners on then breaking the sound barrier  sucking  Abu Bashir out the back seat of the aircraft cockpit strapped on to his rocket cello rocket stick at tremendous speed into dense black fog.  The Arado 96 disintegrates in mid-air as Captain Smilin' Fritz finds himself flying at 7000 feet without an aircraft.  Spiraling downward several seconds later he now finds himself sitting on someone shoulders careening through the dense black fog.
***                                                        

JOURNAL ENTRY:

Friday
17 June 1994
9:37PM

Herr Schutzstaffel Yacht The Thirteenth Ordinance'
Full Main Deck.  Usually called by the crew 'The Berserk Deck because the new beloved Fuhrer issues his decrees on the deck.  Anything from Cursing The Brotherhood (Die deutsche Gemeinschaft) for being Fuhrer dummkopfs, dudnderheads and  not being Prussian Peasants to yelling for hours how he hates birds as an occasional bird splatter hit the new beloved Fuhrer which would send him into hours of close order drill with a broom while the crew had to count cadence for him and march in place.

'Is this your famous dance partner, Steve Ptah."

"Oh I am so excited about our new beloved Fuhrer Herr Schutzstaffel entrancefew moments.  What could it be?  What Could it be? Tweedy Hifen-Dunn, Professional Nazi Yacht hostess screamed.

"Steve," Magie said calmly  in a voice that would make one think that she is humming a lullaby to tired pixies.  "That huge sign almost hit you."

"Thanks Magie, if you didn't say anything I wouldn't have noticed the splintering crash, the deafening noise or the screams of the crowd. Thanks Heavy D for the heads-up  Anybody see the new beloved Fuhrer Schutzstaffel around here yet?"

"Maybe that was his surprise entry and the massive sign landed on him," Forest Green mumbled. "That would be one heck of an entrance."

"He's suposed to make some outstanding entry," Magie said almost excitedly.  "Everyone's waiting.  That's all the guests are chatting about.

"Look" Forest Green the gay shrimper to the world grunted in pain as he tried to turn his head did The Stroll to where the large sign landed just missing Steve.  " 'The Savarona.'  So that's what happened to 'The Savarona.  Herr Shutzstaffel  has it now and changed the name to 'The Thirteenth  Ordinance.'   Maybe Shutzstaffel was under the sign when it fell?"

"No," Magie fired.  "just Steve and I don't believe it just  fell."

"The old sign was laying on top of the wheel house roof all this time,"  Heavy D said, her words were ponderous with pondering. "How convenient for it to fall just when you arrived on the spot Steve.  It must weigh a thousand pounds.  It would take a fork lift to move it off that roof."

"Or the Tongan, Eo'la Afu Anga...,"  Forest Green the gay shrimper to the world said.  Even his words were showing the agony of a stiff neck.  "A guy named Shmoe?  But this old man Grunt you guys were speaking of is in custody."

"I told ya," Steve said in a deep low voice that it is questionable that any of the group heard him over the din of the crowds mounting excitement and a squadron of night flying cackling crows passing in formation overhead,   about how the new beloved Fuhrer would momentarily arrive. "The Tongan is a suburban myth," Steve said in a tone so whimsical it would make pixies dance, countering Magie's earlier tone that put thoughts of suicide in the pixies mind,  as he looked up at the top of the wheel house. "Just like me."

"Idiot moron doofus.  Are you okay Steve?  I wouldn't want to go back to 'The Big C' alone," Magie sighed. "People might think I Dim-mak'd you away.  Another noise?  It sounds like a jet flying above the fog bank cracking the sound barrier."

Everyone crowded around asking each other if they are all right. First the bang of the sign smashing down and now, was it thunder? The questioned traveled around the packed yacht three times before Steve put a stop to it by yelling ''Look up in the sky, that light and noise blasting through the fog.  It's that jet aircraft we heard a couple of seconds ago breaking the  sound barrier.  No wait it's a falling star. Everyone make a wish ya scurvy bunch of--"

"And I can hear music and screaming from it," Magie's tone was the sound of a scientist on the verge of discovering the impossible."

"I think I hear 'The Gay Gordon' being played and sung on it," Steve said in a 'jump for joy voice. "Maybe there's an orchestra playing on the falling star?"

 "A singing musical meteorite?" Magie criticized with prejudice.  "Stars don't fall they explode  some implode...  All though this--"

Magie pulled Steve to the railing thriugh the crushing crowd of mostly felon guests with several unseen non-lethal Dim-mak strikes so she and Steve could get a better view.

"That... that music I hear coming from whatever that is on fire," Steve demanded to know.  "It is the... the Gay Gordon.  Maybe it's a radio wave from the 1920's that hit something in outer space and has bounced back."

"Steve, why didn't you take your 'nostrums' today.  Radio waves don't catch on fire."

" 'Nose plugs?'  Your right Magie and that thing is trailing a flame longer than your IQ."

"Look Steve it's someone sitting on an elongated cello with flames coming out of his--  It looks like someone sitting on the shoulders of someone sitting on a long cello with flames coming out of there--"  Magie;s words were cut off again by screams of...

"Extra terrestrials,"  the crowd started to shout as every one, except Magie, Steve, Forest Green the gay shrimper to the world  and Heavy D, broke into the Horst Wessel song to the tune of the Gay Gordon.

As the crowed sings a red headed attractive middle age woman forces her way toward  Magie atop  professional  short-stilts beating the singing mob back with a riding crop,  Dismounting next to Magie she yells to make herself head above the singing.  "You ist being the famous Magie Carousel the almost world champion merengue dancer and this person next to you is your pathetic partner Steve Pta--"

"Who?  Oh yes..."  Magie shouted absorbed by the idiocy of the moment did not notice the woman slipping out of her SA dispatch bag a sailor hat with a giant peanut, slipping off his hat  and placing it on the head of the person next to Magie.

As the Horst Wessel Song ended it could now be seen a person dressed in what look like a skinny, disheveled Herr Schutzstaffel hanging up his unmentionables, yelling "Get off my shoulder's you blasphemer son of--" both tied to what could only be described as a modified cello named Heil scrolled on its front  and flames coming from its base, and another individual on his shoulders attired in a flaming World War Two flight suit.

  They seem to be preparing for a chicken fight with an unseen foe...  accomplished a flyover the yacht then headed back up into the foggy night sky.  Moments later  out of the dark mist another scream in Arabic can be heard, "Blasphemer, I cannot find the Blasphemer brakes 'Haa Dha Huraa' I think I will get off now.'  The voice of the pilot clinging to the other guys shoulders screaming, 'Schweinhund,'  as all plummet  into the main deck behind Verboten/Off Limits Herr Schutzstaffel faced curtain.  And then a deck splintering explosion.

Moments later a stunned Herr Schutzstaffel  caught in the middle of putting his sparkling white trousers  with slim side black, red, yellow-gold stripes Fuhrer pants' half on and shredded.  His flaming white Luftwaffe Field Marshal's uniform with matching military cap and worn over that the famous golden Nero wreath, black burning shredded riding boots and a riding crop broken in the middle like a limp spaghetti noodle,  Herr Schutzstaffel stumbles from behind the heavy curtain that is now on fire as a cheer goes up. Then a devastating fireworks show engages on queue, the new beloved Fuhrer's smoldering, off balance soot covered youth girls singing  'If Herr Schutstaffel can't do it, no one can.'

The delirious crowd chants back "Do What?" as they do the new New Nazi salute (See Journal One.) to the new beloved Fuhrer before he collapse in a smoldering pile of what looks likes smoking laundry.

The answer comes back from the Schutzstaffel Youth Girls that can still speak: "Destroy the World."

"Next these idiots will be looking for books to burn," Magie comments mostly to herself.

The crowd cheers as the Hoff Brau band begins to play the Storm Trooper Stalag  House Stomp.  Then the mob caught up in the celebration begin a Duck-Waddle march past the new beloved Fuhrer's prone body curtsying the new Nazi salute as they pass in front of Herr Schutzstaffel and then kissing Commandant Porcha's Ninja Bird book that is also smoldering in the ruins of the  stage.  All brought to a sudden halt by the ship loud-speaker screaming: "Remain calm.  Our new beloved Fuhrer has just experienced a minor uniform Fuhrer-malfunction."

"Ja ja, get away from me you dummkopf.  I ist the...er... will someone tell me who I ist being unt why I ist on fire?"

Magie, still standing by the ships rail cries out "Shock," as  the troubadour trained elephants pursue the person that was standing next to her who had the  sailor hat with the big peanut on it slipped on his head by an unknown red headed beauty.  At least that's what the water-soaked log states Magie cried out.  Forest Green stops passing out his shrimp seller business cards.  Heavy D executes a wide meandering turn toward Magie's cry of 'Shock' knocking down numerous Duck-Waddle marchers as silence reigns.... except for marimba band music playing on some unknown part of the aft mega-yacht 'The Jerk in the Black Cape.'  Then some aft braying and and what could only be described as a mad man screaming 'Ya ferbonies.'
***

JOURNAL ENTRY:
                                                            
Friday
17 June 1994
10:09PM

Aft Main Deck, Herr Schutzstaffel's Mega-Yacht, The Thirteenth Ordinance.
Gamboa, Panama
Panama, Central America

'Carlos the Jackass, armed and considered stupid.'

"What was that"  Another explosion,"  The Brooklyn Creeper barks.  What's going on here  Two ton signs slammin' inta the floor.   Cellos on fire falling outta the fog. Thunder breakin' what?"

"It's Phibbs Mister Seeper,  I ruminated the ferocious clap of thunder before we saw the fiery cello falling from the sky, the thunder  seemed to have broken the sound barrier."

"Pay attention,," Ganadega Frau  Puckarber hurled her words like a fast ball pitcher facing Pinky Teapot."

"Shad up ya ferbonies 'The Noggin's'@ yappin.  Are you goombah sure this febonie jackass knows what he is doin' Ploop?" 'The Noggin' challenges Carlos the Jackasses publicity agent Ploop de la Ploop.'

"Carlos the Jackass has no idea what he's doin' ya moron," Ploop de la Ploop angrily bites the cordite air from Abu Bashir and Smilin' Fritz out of control Rocket cello crashing next to Herr Schutzstaffel in the midst of putting his uniform pants on over his hobnail riding boots.  "He's a Jackass like you dimwits."

"An armed Jackass," The Brooklyn Creeper wheezed, "The Jackass is carrying enough Roscoe's to blow us all away.

"That Jackass might be well heeled but he's stupid," Ganadega Frau Puckarber words spat venom.  That Jackass is almost as stupid as the Reefer here."

"Who?"  The Brooklyn Creeper looks around.

"I never thought I'd be glad to see you idiots again," as a drenched Myron Insolentt gurgled  standing in  front of  'The Noggin' and associates.

"What a ya yappin' about ya ferbonie pledge goombah.  Ain't ya been here all the time?"

"I er...yes, that's right.  I didn't try to commit suicide because of that owl movement stuff.  I was thrown overboard you pea-brain just before--".

"Look 'Noggin'  morons, we're stupid-talking about stupid things I just finished preparing the worlds most powerful non-nuclear explosive.  'Astrolite.' It's a shaped charge so it only goes up under Ptah.  Don't worry your sweetie Magie  Carousel will not get hurt.  Nor will anyone else That's what your paying us for.  Carlos the Jackasses expertise.

Now I have this PTEN detonator cord connected to this large size case of Sal  Hepatica Astrolite explosive.  I have over two thousand feet of detonator cord attached.  When what's left of  this other idiot Herr Schutzstaffel introduces his competitors one by one. I'll be under the platform where this guy you want assassinated  Steve Ptah is standing.  Carlos the Jackass here is trained to light fuses.  Carlos here will light the fuse.  With all this length of fuse I'll have plenty of time to get to just where Ptah is standing and be gone when boom time comes."

"The Jackass is going to light the fuse?" Phibbs announced as if he was about to draw the dowager's  bath.

"He's  been trained." Ploop de la Ploop threw her words at Phiibs as a trainer would throw a bone to a barking dog.

"What did you say that detonator fuse you are using is called?"  Myron Insolentt demanded to know, still shaking himself off like a Newfoundland that finished  several laps of rough ocean swimming ."

"What a ya a detonator cord expert Insolentt,"  Goombah Wong hissed in an all-knowing grin as his split tongue searched the air for monkey scent.

Shad up ya ferbonies.  'The Noggin'@ only hires the best.  There is nothin' Carlos the Jackass ain't knowin' about explosive.--"

"I told ya 'Noggin'  Carlos the Jackass is an idiot," Ploop de la Ploop muttered  angrily as she held the primer cord between her teeth.  "All he can do is light the cord and take bows I do the rest.  I told ya muff-heads I do all the work. The Jackass here gets all the credit for being the worlds most feared terrorist."

"I would like ta see how this  now braying mule-faced Jackass is gonna light that fuse," Ganadega Frau Puckarber jumped to get away from what seemed like gallons of Canal water Doctor Myron Insolentt was shaking off trying to dry himself.

"Watch it you idiot," Ploop de la Ploop bellowed at the abominable Ganadega Frau. "That the Astrolite bomb in that Sal-Hepatica crate. Only an electric charge will set it off... I think, so be careful.  I'm going to need one of you strong men to help me clandestinely to pus-shove the explosive Sal-Hepatica crate under the stage. It's on coasters but it's still very heavy."

"That's a job for the Brooklyn Crepper, 'Blotto,' "  The Brooklyn Creeper  wheezed again, Brooklyn style.

"It's 'Noggin'@ Sweeper ya ferbonie.  Just get it done and make the 'Noggin' the biggest Goombah in the world.  Watchout Barny Bongos of Queens, 'The Noggin' @ is comin.' Start ya brayin Jackass."

"And he did.

"This box is heavy," The Brooklyn Creeper wheezed harder, St. Johns Place and Underhill Avenue style.  "What's in it? Lead?"

"Moron, I told ya, Astrolite wimp," Ploop de la Ploop's word pained like a dentist drill hitting an unprotected nerve.  "Carlos the Jackass here, acting in his advisory capacity, read me the instructions.  He has trouble with his pounds and ounces signs."

"What is a matter with you morons?  Doesn't any of you realize Carlos the Jackass is really a jackass," Doctor Myron Insolentt, Goombah in training Plead-Yells.

"And your point being?"  Phibbs asked in that haughty, British 'Tea is Served in the Drawing Room Madame', belittling  tone.

"Carlos, light the PTEN fuse, and Creeper start creeping following me.  We got a long fuse over a half mile long so we have plenty of time to adjust to the right point under that idiot Ptah.

"PTEN," Myron Insolentt cried out.  "No.  Please I don't want to be connected anymore. Stop you morons. The fuse is the...   A lit fuse travels at a speed of--

                                                                       ***

"Steve," Magie yelled as she tripped over a pair of short-stilts'. "Thank God it's you.  I thought the troubadours were trying to sit on your head you big dope.  I was so--"

"Naw, Magie it was that poor soul standing between us at the rail.  watch it.  Who'd be stupid enough to leave a pair of sawed off stilts' on the deck were someone could trip over them.

 Magie,  Steve, " Heavy D bellowed through the singing of 'The Gay Gordon, competing marching bands, Schutzstaffel Youth Girls chanting 'If Herr Schutzstaffel' can't do it....And Herr Schutzstaffel trying to make groupie guests believe he is Bormann and not to believe the vicious rumor that he is in reality someone called Fatso Fogaty.  "Did ya here?  The guy the elephants sat on his head was... Judge Quackers from New York.  Why he was wearing a sailors hat with a giant peanut on it when he was dressed in a safari duck hunting habit I'll never--"

"I can't believe they're still going to have introductions of all us merenge competitors," Magie yelled through all the confusion.  "Look that idiot Herr Schutzstaffel still can't get his Fuhrer pants on. So pathetic.  I kind of feel sorry for him."

"Don't Magie, he is pure evil. Millions of people were directly tortured and killed by him. Dolph was just his puppet.  He was the puppet master straight from hell.  He even made Stalin dance...  But that's another story.  Now it's time for us to leave."

"Leave?"  Magie questioned as a math professor would question the new math assertion  two and two is now five hundred and seventeen.

"Yes, Magie, our prayers have been answered." Steve's tone was that of thankfulness.

"But, I don't understand we still--"

Steve says it's time to leave," Forest Green gay shrimper to the world said, "we leave."

"But I--"

"Lets go Magie," Heavy D, spoke sternly to Magie.  "Our job is done here.  Steve said it's time to leave we're gone. No and's, if's, or, but's."
                                                                           ***

"PTEN burns at 29,000 feet per second, it---"  Myron Insolentt never finished his protest. A small nuclear mushroom cloud hung over the site where the Thirteenth Ordinance had been docked.
***

Epilogue:

Magie's Apartment
One Morining Street
'The Big C' New York.

Tuesday
17 December  1994
3:22PM

'Snow slightly falling  Magie looks out her third floor apartment front window over looking Morming Street, 'The Big C.'  She has  just finished  her final recorded brief of the 'Cobleskill Proposition' mission.

'Invading Argentina.'

"Emanuel, what are we that we should be loved so well," Magie's words sounded like a prayer as she gazed out her window, the grayish snow laden clouds sealed off any hope of sunshine this afternoon.  Magie is dressed in designer jeans Madame Enigma of Gallopville, a white long-sleeved dress shirt not tucked in by Sane Fashions of the Barrio East, L.A.  And shoeless with Christmas colored socks.  Her brunette hair is in a pony tail held by one of her jewel encrusted ribbons made by the He He people of Tanzania.  And two petit humble turquoise earrings.

"The answer to that question is a mystery Magie,"  Steve said in a mellow tone 'Silent Night' played softly in the background on Magie's tape player and stretching upward to put the finishing touches on Magie's Christmas tree.  Steve's wardrobe consist of military-pressed blue jeans by 'Off the Rack' by Anonymous, of 340 Mercle  Place Riverdale, Ohio. An Air Force Blue sweater over a white shirt and white socks. His black military boots are outside on the landing.

"It is a mystery all right, Steve.   To get us through that quagmire of Nazi rubble it had to take great love from the Lord.  I can't believe we finished the  Post Intelligence Brief."

"Yeah, six months until the investigators could tie almost everything up," Steve acknowledged in a low tone.  "Ya did a  good job Magie.  We found Herr Schutzstaffel was Martin Bormann or, like you said, what's left of him. And a bonus.  Heinrich 'Gestapo' Muller was Commandant Porcha--"

"Imagine," Magie said looking away from the window and going into the kitchen.  "Having telomere surgery and emulsion shots and a sex change so the Nazi hunters wouldn't suspect that he is Heinrich 'Gestapo' Muller.  And Stumpfegger  plastique surgery on his face during an Allied bombing raid using Funhouse mirrors because the only mirrors left in Berlin Deckung House of Fun as all mirrors in Berlin had been broken or were all cracked.

Although they weren't the only thing cracked," Magie remarked in a Christmassy spirit. "And all plastic  surgery by candle light..  Steve, thank you for getting my sage and his idiot crew released and and as a condition of their parole working at your Patriot hotel across the street.  I know you don't need that much help.

"Hey Magie, at 30 cents an hour and just room and board for them I can afford that. And, your Sage 'The Noggin' working the front desk.  Goombah Wong keeping the pigeons off the roof,  and an eye out for marauding great apes and roving triad gangs.  Is a great help not to mention a top notch  tourist attraction."

"And Phibbs as head bell hop," Magie chirped. "How did you get Ganadage Frau Puckarber to double as head and only cook and conduct tours of the haunted third floor with that British Major Lamb  the Duke of Mutton or whatever ghost up there?

"The camouflage Major?  It was easy, she hates the British.  Some days it's like a war going on up there. Doors slammin' all over the third floor."

"I know, I've heard the battles...  And the Brooklyn Creeper, running a magazine stand in your main lobby who sells Colliers Magazines anymore?  Are they still in business?"

"Magie, this is, as you say, 'The Big C.'  and besides he's a heck of a maintenance man, the way he can creep around, get into all those  nook and crannies.  And he makes one heck of a bouncer for any unruly guest."

"And the Bilderbergers roller-derby skating team now skating at the Tunguska skating rink and joining forces with Pee Wee's diner across the road selling those Bilderbergers that even I have to admit are delicious. Steve you're too kind.  And bringing that Marimba band to play in your lobby every afternoon and night."

"Magie, that's the least we could do seeing that you destroyed their float at the Panama City Panama Tocumen Airport."

"Very funny, but they have to learn a new marimba tune.  The Jerk in the Black Cape over and over again has to stop.  What about Jingle Bells?   No. That's means new beloved Fuhrer is overboard if I remember correctly and I always do.  You know that Steve.

"Yes Magie, I know you--"

 And I am trying to get my sage to loose that black cape."

"Ah, leave the guy alone.  It gives the hotel guests something to talk about. They tell their friends and we're getting tourist from all over just to see the jerk in the black cape and his crew.  I may need you to help Ganadage Frau Puckarber in the kitchen... as soon as I make sure there's no cardboard around."

"You are a swine, besides you said my cooking has improved.  You know Steve I thought it was  so crazy to find out the Carlos the Jackass Ramirez Sanchez was really a jackass."

"And the French authorities arresting the 'The Jackass' and putting a human face mask surgically over the jackasses head to give him a human appearance so the public doesn't find out the police of numerous countries were chasing a donkey all these years." Steve stretched his words as he stretched to adjust the angel on top of Magie's tree.

"And ... his... its publicist Ploop de Ploop in the same French prison  It has a certain je ne sais pas about it."

"I believe the word you're searching for is 'weird.' Magie, lets play back the final brief before we flash-traffic to (Redacted.)"

"Sure, but then lets go to dinner early.   I'll get your coffee while we listen and myself honey tea.  I have to get up early now that Myron Insolentt was fired and I was appointed head of the Institute.  The charges were treason and sedition.  I don't know he pulled that off?""

"Yeah, but they can't try him until he has been de-goomahized and when if ever he's released from the nut  section  of the Private Emergency Receiving Hospital here in the 'Big C.' "

 "Please Steve if anyone belongs in a mental health oasis it's you. Okay, here goes.""

PLAYBACK:

To: Operational Commander U.S. Military (Redacted) at Edgewood Arsenal / via (REDACTED) at Beltsville Maryland.
From:  Officer-in-Charge, Steven Ptah, Special Operations Unit 107, Cloak Room.
Active Force:  Magie Carousel, Forest Green, Heavy D, Folie A'deux.
PE/OR and BB modified to CLOAK ROOM STANDARD.

START:
"It's been several months now since Steve and I returned from our mission in Panama, Central America.

Steve asked me to record this final log before he sends it of to (REDACTED.)  by flash traffic

FINAL LOG:                                                             
Recorded by Magie Carousel

Disposition of Martin Bormann alias  Herr Herr Schutzstaffel:

Following my telomere research protocol and using my specified algorithms I, Magie  Carousel and Steven Ptah have come to the conclusion the person in question is  Secretary of the Third Reich and de facto  head of the Nazi Party during World War Two, Martin Bormann, or, what is left of him.

The telomere emulsion and surgery performed on Martin Bormann and other top Nazi officials during early  1944 by Fritz Mengele and  other Nazi scientist based on hundreds of thousands of experiments on concentration camp captives including thousands of twins and causing the torturous death of the innocent has succeeded in  a slowing down of the normal aging process and completely stopping of the aging process in some Nazi officials.

The deadly side-effects of slowing down the aging process by  telomere emulsions and surgery, unknown to the Nazi scientist then,  is the malfunction of the human thought process causing irrational decision making, and basically the eventual dumbing down of the individual to a complete idiot becoming a hideous joke and fools of themselves their memory intact as my computer models protocols have shown.

This is not to be confused with Alzheimer. The restructured telomere individual still has a very good recent and past memory but  becomes a blithering idiot.  Knows he or she is a blithering idiot but can't do anything about it. Knowing is the never-ending torture for this individual

 Due to the war ending in 1945 over a year later after Bormann and others had the procedure I believe the Nazi scientist would have not had enough time to see these side effects. Again,  this process is not to be confused with Alzheimer  the memory of telomere patients is stable.  (Please note:  I am now working on computer protocols using blood to slow down the aging process Too early for firm findings but my algorithms and  prognosis looks interesting.)

(In the background one could hear Steve's voice saying 'Leave the commercials out Magie.' )

(And Magie's response, 'Swine.' )

Also the tremendous amount of money and valuables these Third Reich creatures have stolen have let them lead a life that high society deems their increasing stupidity eccentric due to their ill gotten wealth and acceptable.  Without this stolen wealth they would not last in any society only as babbling fools and ended their pitiful existence in the cesspool of  Nazi history.

Steve and I have also discovered that Heidrich  'Gestapo Muller who had a sex change and became Commandant Porcha had this process as well a Stumpfegger who performed plastic surgery on himself using the only grotesque mirrors not too badly broken in Berlin at the Deckung Fun-House and turned himself into a donkey-face to avoid being recognized by Nazi hunters.

DISPOSITIONS OF PARTICIPANTS:

On June 17th 1994 aboard Martin Bormann's Mega-Yacht The Thirteenth Ordinance  at approximately at  22:20 hours there was a powerful explosion on the aft deck of the of the  Thirteenth Ordinance causing many injuries  It was thought. to be a nuclear explosion because of the mushroom cloud but it was Astrolite-G and PETN used as a potential detonator cord which burns at a little over 4 miles per second.  The explosion of the PETN sent the Sal-Hepatica crate of Astrolite into the air over the Mega Yacht and detonated due to possible static electricity or a lightning strike.  The experts are yet to confirm the actual cause of the Astrolite detonation.  U.S. Army demolition teams are still going over the area of destruction.

My sage Sir Doo Doo Fazoo aka 'The Noggin' and his crew lives were spared by some miracle. I can only deduce it was the umbrella effect that can rarely happen when one is standing so close to the explosion.  It was a miracle.  My partner Steve Ptah said it was the same thing that saved him so many times 'The Luck of the Stupid.'

(Background voice: 'No need to give me kudos Magie.' )

My sage and his crew are all working and living at Steve Ptah's Patriot hotel on Morning Street in 'The Big C.' on a work-release program.  Steve had all charges dropped.  Well almost all the charges  How, I don't know and I don't want to know. 

Myron Insolentt, former head of 'The Secret Government Institute' Located between 'The Big C' and Middleburg and ex goombah-in -training has been fired and is now in ''The Big C.' Private Emergency Receiving Hospital in the mental health oasis division and will be tried for treason and sedition if and when he is released.

There is a new President of the Private  Emergency Receiving Hospital, as the former President Bull Weed disappeared in a flooding accident along with a Pizza delivery man and some soda machine person  To my surprise the rest of the mental health staff either has been arrested for smuggling Pall Mall cicarettes or have become  patients at their own mental health oasis.  Someone named Chester Manheim has been named the assistant to the new President.  The Cyprus Mail scandal sheet read in 'The 'Big C'  was not clear who Mister Manhiem is or his credentials for such a prestigious post.

The new President is named Wonder  Weredmeharpgo and does not speak any known language, but throws soot at people.  She recently defended her thesis for her Ph.D. successfully in Ancient Curses at Pre-History Museum at Oxford, England's Traveling Doctorate Graduate School because no one new what the 'expletive' she was saying.  Rumors have her on the short list for the Surgeons General's office in Washington?  Rumor also has it she is a Viking from some island in the Indian Ocean where a giant ape resides. 

  My sage and his crew estimated time of  work-release will be at least a 3 years before they are able to enter any type of Physical and Psychiatric Therapy.  My ex Psychogonist Dr. Ba'athhouse Dipp will join forces with the new President of the Mental Health Oasis Dr. Wander Werdmeharpgo and will be handling my sages and his crews Mental Therapy as soon as Dr. Ba'athhouse Dipp returns from Iraq where she joined the Iraqi Ba'ath Party the first woman to run for President in the Middle East.  ex-Pakistan due to location prime.

Martin Bormann, Heinrich 'Gestapo' Muller alias Commandant Porcha, Ludwig Stumpfegger,  Frau Sholtz-Klink were hired by a South American Carnival  show as freak show exhibits. Martin Bormann as The Babbling Idiot SS-Nazi Man.  Heinrich 'Gestapo' Muller alias Commandant Porcha  as Girly-Man who can't sweat no mater how long he-she runs in the  Gerbil's hanging wheel treadmill. Ludwig Stumpfegger is portrayed as a monster who's face can stop a clock and crack mirrors.  Gertruda Sholtz-Klink Nazi speaker idolizer of Dolph and is the medically-rotund  bearded poor-soul lady selling tickets at the same carnival while doing the hula.

The stolen paintings have been recovered and the Amber Room has been salvaged and still being examined by the top art experts in the world who disagree with each other as to. not only to their own  authenticity but to the authenticity of the objects d' art.  So the greatest almost former art forger in the world, Le Renard, has been called in to settle the matter. That item is still pending  due to the fact Le Renard is still doing a little time in Penton Ville prison.

A Commissar Otnot we were told from INTERPOL was found floating on the Canal the following morning holding on to an  orthopedic wheelchair. He was arrested for swimming in the Canal illegally.  By now he has been released into the custody of the new President of the Private Emergency Receiving Hospital back in 'The Big C', President Weredmeharpgo.  Commissar Otnot is  pending deportation to Brighton Beach, Brooklyn wear he is wanted for Jay-Walking and Aggravated-Strangeness.

Also Hospital  President Wander Weredmeharpgo, is pending deportation but ICE cannot find the island she came from.

"Molly's  Irish Tavern is closed permanently and replaced by a 'Vacant Sign.'   According to the Cyprus Mail newspaper she may be appointed as U.S. Ambassador to Ireland.  Molly and Acid were found blown into the jungle and had joined a troop of Howler monkeys.  There reintroduction into human life may take years.

Some person named Reentry,  suspected secret leader Urk of the new Age Group 'Put Down That Phone' Nobility has never been found.  Steve believes Urk and Blum der Laden Baa Baa is the same person. What this has to due with this Final Brief I do not know,  But, Steve said I should include it.

Pluto Vance, Commissar Otnot's Clear Boyant has not been found as of this report being submitted.

RESULT: Mission Accomplished.  Martin Bormann alais Herr Schutzstaffel identification confirmed and sanctioned.


Submitted: by Steve Ptah and Magie Carousel for the (REDACTED) approval on this first day of winter 22 December 1994.
                                                                      ***
"You know Steve, Magie  theorized aloud in that syrupy French tone, going into the kitchen to fetch some black coffee without cream and sugar and her honey tea, "I never knew I was surrounded by so much stupidity until I met you.  I don't know if I should thank you or--"

" Lets head for dinner. We can have coffee and tea later. Just be ready for our next assignment.  We have to do a lot of prep work  and stop admiring your new 'Octave' maroon kitchen sink you still owe me for the freight char--"

"I'm not taking anymore dancing lesson from that suicidal maniac--"

"Datu is still up at the great lakes looking for his sweetie Sally Scow.  Which reminds me when he gets back I agree with you we should give him the Championship Merengue Dance Trophy we won.  He deserve it."

"Which reminds me Steve at the end of our merengue and you threw me through that candy glass window the trampoline was under and it worked perfectly.  Too perfectly as I bounced back through the window and  back onto the dance floor.  If you  hadn't been taking all those hambone bows we would not have cracked heads and knocked ourselves out.  Neither of us knew we won until they carried us to that stand-by First Aid station Heavy D had set up.  You big showoff-doufus."

"Static Magie.  Static.  The judges and crowd all thought it was part of our merengue dance.  Heavy D is back on station in Panama as is Forest Green gay shrimper to the world and my sources say Folie A'deux may run for President."

"Your sources," Magie poohed. "Steve why did you want me to omit those three days June 7th, 8th and 9th in the jungle when the Boobie Brothers thought they marooned us in the Darien  near the island of Malatupo?"

"Three days finding our way out of the most impenetrable jungle in the world.  That was no big deal, Magie.  Besides I didn't want to mention those Colombian Banditos we had to outrun. We needed a couple of days of R&R  That log is for another time."

"We could have taken the plane from the Boobies, made those idiot assassin's  walk back and we could have flown back to Panama City, but no.  You have a weird sense of what R&R is.

  "Listen Magie we have to be in Versailles exactly on August 10th1995.  That's when Annie Moberly and Eleanor Jourdam walked back in time try to find the Petit Trianon back in 1901. No one believed them until 1912 when a long lost original  map of Versailles drawn by Marie Antoinette's architect Mique was found that showed what these two women said they saw was actually there during that time."

"Sounds intriguing Steve, but what about that scientist that the  U.S. and Canadian Governments forgot about in 1941 that was working up in a mountainous area of British Colombia where he was experimenting with the remains of prehistoric mammals extracting gene codes from Archaeotherium  monstrous creatures from the Oligocene period for a pre-invasion attack on Nazi-Europe?"

"Huh?  Oh, the violent pigs the size of cow.  Yes there have been reports of these  ferocious pigs the size of cows seen near Surrender BC that may be mistaken for the so-called Big Foot..  That's in late January as they are thought to hibernate during the Summer and Fall.  The military wants us to--"

"Yes, next month. Steve, as the new Director of the Institute, my research, my books I'm writing... now where am I going to get time to take--"

"Your sabbaticals are all ready arranged.  You must have  an Assistant Director that you can trust."

"Well yes, she is a very good theoretical physicist, Aiaia Peron.  Their might be a little thing that may cause a tiny bit of drama though, Steve.  Ah... she believes she is Eva Peron and talks about invading Argentina soon.  Steve.  Steve."
                                                                          ###

                                             'Et les anges du Seigneur vous peuvent
                                                       entourer de paix Bonheur.'