I was out for my constitutional--you know, the EC loop of BuckTown
(®D'Mestiere Investigations) that's got old Jackie-boy's tracks worn into it now after seven weeks of sabbatical from Stumptown. I was crossing Emigrant, headed for the north side of the
ABCs when I heard "
Hold it right there mister!" come out of a speaker. I saw the blue and red flashing reflections in the window of Zimmerman's. Damn, busted for jay-walking, how's that gonna play in the local press.
"You go by the moniker of '
Jackie-boy,' mister? That's a sort of city-slicker handle there, ain't it?" "Well, officer, there are a few people..." exactly one, I'm thinking to myself "...who call me that, and I guess I'm what you good folks out here in BuckTown (
®D'Mestiere Investigations) might call a city guy.
Let 'er Buck!" "Now wait just a gol-durned minute there Mister What-ever-your-real-name is. Where's the
® after
Let 'er Buck (
® iPendleton Roundup)? And, while I'm at it, you only say Let 'er Buck (® iPendleton Roundup) in the few weeks before Roundup, not just any ole time you want.
"Anyway, I'm off the main line here and onto a yard track. There's a See-If-You-Can-Find-Him out on you so I'm takin' you downtown..." "We are downtown, officer." "...Watch it or I'll stuff a bit into that yapper of yours and haul back on it like John Wayne in a bad oater..." I saw him put his hand on his heater. "...and we don't call them 'heaters', we call them six-guns. As I was saying, I'm takin' you downtown for a sit down and talk-it-over." "Okay, sheriff, whatever you say." "And I ain't no damned sheriff. You watch too many movies." Me?, I'm thinking. Give me a break. And what's with the
® iPendleton Roundup I'm wondering... "You got a problem Mister Jackie-boy with Roundup being part of the Galactic Corporation? Well? I ain't got all day for an answer to that one..." "No, no, I don't have a problem. Whatever you say." "That's better. For the Sake of Sam, you city guys, I never. He said you'd be a complainer..." The fluorescent light that's my brain flicked on. This is the handiwork of the Professor.
I got into the car--Clem let me ride in front at least--and buckled up. I wasn't going to get a 'Click It or Ticket', hell, I was going to be lucky to avoid the jaywalking, even though it was 5:30 in the AM. The radio crackled but instead of
"[crackle crackle]One Adam-twelve" (
® Dania Inebriate-Beech), I heard, "That's right, Jackie-boy, it's me, Professor Javier Boleyn, and I got a carcass o' bones to pick with you!" Gads, even the professor has gone all BuckTown on me. "I hear you, Jackie-boy. Your inner monologue is being broadcast like Austin Powers (® iBust-A-Gut Movies). And yes, Austin is owned by the Galactic Corporation, as well."
"Professor, to what do I owe this chat?" "You owe it to some serious backsliding, Jackie-boy. Do you think that just because you are in BuckTown, I don't get the
Scal-e-Mails? Do you think that just because you are in BuckTown, the
Tap-Cams don't record your consumption? Do you think that by using self-service checkout at the grocery store,
Boleyn Enterprises will be unaware of the pounds of smoked almonds you are buying? Hell, Jack,
iBlue Diamond..." "NO!" "...yes, declared a 3-for-one stock split the other day. And, I've reports of the increasing frequency with which your walking path passes
Up With Donuts. It's a slope greased with LARD!, Jack. Notice that I'm using my most somber, fatherly voice here, and calling you a respectful, Jack, instead of my usual." "But I'm
dedicated to this, Professor." "Sure, Jackie-boy. Dedication and a dollar will buy a donut..."
"But Professor..." "But me no buts, Jackie-boy, this is serious." "Let me continue, Professor. I know I've picked up a couple pounds, but it's not back-sliding, really. I just need to get my waddling mileage up. I can do it, really, I can." "Say I believe you, Jackie-boy. How long will it take you to drop these 'couple pounds'? Do you know that I have two--not one, but two--memoirs of yours in galley, ready for me to tell the publisher to let the presses fly?" "What, I've written memoirs?" "Well, technically, you haven't written them, I have. But they are wonderful adulations of me, credited to you, although if one reads the
nanoprint one will understand that it is I who actually crafted the memoir." "Oh, like an 'as told to'?" "No, more like a 'Passages of this book, from start to end, were written by someone other than the supposed author and without his knowledge.' Nanoprint is, of course, an invention of..." "Nevermind..."
"So what are these two memoirs I've 'crafted'?" "
Landslide of LARD!: How I Used Professor Javier Boleyn's Lifeline to Pull Myself Clear. I suppose I could go ahead with that one even though you are in a serious re-lapse..." "Whoan." "but I need a jacket cover photo of you, before and after my magic, and frankly, the 'after' picture would not be as appealing to my intended audience as it would have been a month ago." "C'mon, Professor, it's not that bad." "Really, Jack? Why do I hear you wail so every morning from the
Scale-Mic (® iBoleyn, a holy-owned subsidiary of iSaint Steven Enterprises). "What's the second?" "That's the real problem. It's
After the Avalanche: Avoiding Accretion the Professor Javier Boleyn 2-Step Way." That one, clearly,
cannot be authored by someone in your current state."
"Now hear this, Jackie-boy. I'll give you 2 weeks to get rid of those 'couple of pounds'
(aside: it looks like more than that to me...)..." "...it isn't, really..." "...whatever you say, Jackie-boy. A couple weeks, and if you haven't done it..." "...You'll handcuff my arms behind my back? You'll sew my mouth shut? You'll lock me in a room with no food?" "No, I will simply change the author and print the books. Do you think you are the only whale in Professor Javier Boleyn's ocean? Really. "But what about my personal tale, and my royalties?" "
It's all in the nanoprint, Jackie-boy...Now get with it!" "Whoan."
I was out for my constitutional--you know, the EC loop of BuckTown (®D'Mestiere Investigations) that's got old Jackie-boy's tracks worn into it now after seven weeks of sabbatical from Stumptown. I was crossing Emigrant, headed for the north side of the ABCs when I heard "Hold it right there mister!" come out of a speaker. I saw the blue and red flashing reflections in the window of Zimmerman's. Damn, busted for jay-walking, how's that gonna play in the local press. 
"You go by the moniker of 'Jackie-boy,' mister? That's a sort of city-slicker handle there, ain't it?" "Well, officer, there are a few people..." exactly one, I'm thinking to myself "...who call me that, and I guess I'm what you good folks out here in BuckTown (®D'Mestiere Investigations) might call a city guy. Let 'er Buck!" "Now wait just a gol-durned minute there Mister What-ever-your-real-name is. Where's the ® after Let 'er Buck (® iPendleton Roundup)? And, while I'm at it, you only say Let 'er Buck (® iPendleton Roundup) in the few weeks before Roundup, not just any ole time you want.
"Anyway, I'm off the main line here and onto a yard track. There's a See-If-You-Can-Find-Him out on you so I'm takin' you downtown..." "We are downtown, officer." "...Watch it or I'll stuff a bit into that yapper of yours and haul back on it like John Wayne in a bad oater..." I saw him put his hand on his heater. "...and we don't call them 'heaters', we call them six-guns. As I was saying, I'm takin' you downtown for a sit down and talk-it-over." "Okay, sheriff, whatever you say." "And I ain't no damned sheriff. You watch too many movies." Me?, I'm thinking. Give me a break. And what's with the ® iPendleton Roundup I'm wondering... "You got a problem Mister Jackie-boy with Roundup being part of the Galactic Corporation? Well? I ain't got all day for an answer to that one..." "No, no, I don't have a problem. Whatever you say." "That's better. For the Sake of Sam, you city guys, I never. He said you'd be a complainer..." The fluorescent light that's my brain flicked on. This is the handiwork of the Professor.
I got into the car--Clem let me ride in front at least--and buckled up. I wasn't going to get a 'Click It or Ticket', hell, I was going to be lucky to avoid the jaywalking, even though it was 5:30 in the AM. The radio crackled but instead of "[crackle crackle]One Adam-twelve" (® Dania Inebriate-Beech), I heard, "That's right, Jackie-boy, it's me, Professor Javier Boleyn, and I got a carcass o' bones to pick with you!" Gads, even the professor has gone all BuckTown on me. "I hear you, Jackie-boy. Your inner monologue is being broadcast like Austin Powers (® iBust-A-Gut Movies). And yes, Austin is owned by the Galactic Corporation, as well."
"Professor, to what do I owe this chat?" "You owe it to some serious backsliding, Jackie-boy. Do you think that just because you are in BuckTown, I don't get the Scal-e-Mails? Do you think that just because you are in BuckTown, the Tap-Cams don't record your consumption? Do you think that by using self-service checkout at the grocery store, Boleyn Enterprises will be unaware of the pounds of smoked almonds you are buying? Hell, Jack, iBlue Diamond..." "NO!" "...yes, declared a 3-for-one stock split the other day. And, I've reports of the increasing frequency with which your walking path passes Up With Donuts. It's a slope greased with LARD!, Jack. Notice that I'm using my most somber, fatherly voice here, and calling you a respectful, Jack, instead of my usual." "But I'm dedicated to this, Professor." "Sure, Jackie-boy. Dedication and a dollar will buy a donut..."
"But Professor..." "But me no buts, Jackie-boy, this is serious." "Let me continue, Professor. I know I've picked up a couple pounds, but it's not back-sliding, really. I just need to get my waddling mileage up. I can do it, really, I can." "Say I believe you, Jackie-boy. How long will it take you to drop these 'couple pounds'? Do you know that I have two--not one, but two--memoirs of yours in galley, ready for me to tell the publisher to let the presses fly?" "What, I've written memoirs?" "Well, technically, you haven't written them, I have. But they are wonderful adulations of me, credited to you, although if one reads the nanoprint one will understand that it is I who actually crafted the memoir." "Oh, like an 'as told to'?" "No, more like a 'Passages of this book, from start to end, were written by someone other than the supposed author and without his knowledge.' Nanoprint is, of course, an invention of..." "Nevermind..."
"So what are these two memoirs I've 'crafted'?" "Landslide of LARD!: How I Used Professor Javier Boleyn's Lifeline to Pull Myself Clear. I suppose I could go ahead with that one even though you are in a serious re-lapse..." "Whoan." "but I need a jacket cover photo of you, before and after my magic, and frankly, the 'after' picture would not be as appealing to my intended audience as it would have been a month ago." "C'mon, Professor, it's not that bad." "Really, Jack? Why do I hear you wail so every morning from the Scale-Mic (® iBoleyn, a holy-owned subsidiary of iSaint Steven Enterprises). "What's the second?" "That's the real problem. It's After the Avalanche: Avoiding Accretion the Professor Javier Boleyn 2-Step Way." That one, clearly, cannot be authored by someone in your current state." 
"Now hear this, Jackie-boy. I'll give you 2 weeks to get rid of those 'couple of pounds' (aside: it looks like more than that to me...)..." "...it isn't, really..." "...whatever you say, Jackie-boy. A couple weeks, and if you haven't done it..." "...You'll handcuff my arms behind my back? You'll sew my mouth shut? You'll lock me in a room with no food?" "No, I will simply change the author and print the books. Do you think you are the only whale in Professor Javier Boleyn's ocean? Really. "But what about my personal tale, and my royalties?" "It's all in the nanoprint, Jackie-boy...Now get with it!" "Whoan."
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