Tuesday, January 5, 2016

a-Waddlin' Toward Fitness: I mean, Really, Jack?

My blower buzzed that noise it makes when someone is trying to get a hold of D'Mestiere Investigations face-to-face. At this time of the morning, 8:17 AM, who could it be. Dolly-girl gave a mumph from under the covers. "Gads, Jack, who is calling you at this ungodly hour?" "I'm abetting' it's the tin stars over to Burns--likely want me to go undercover, mosey into the wildlife refuge, and infiltrate them terrorist fellers that are camped out in guvmint property!" If'n I'da been under the saddle blanket with Dolly-girl, I'da spied them peepers arollin' at me, even thru the wave. Ruther than that, I got a "Snort" whichn' I made out to mean "My Uncle Jackie's jihad, Jack, don't forget your earmuffs!"

"D'Mestiere Investgations--wheren' y'alls trouble is no trouble t'all! How can I be ahelpin' you, Mr. Director Comey?" "Jackie-boy..." Gulp. I didn't have Director Comey on the blower a-askin' for my hep. It was..."Professor Javier Boleyn. You are correct, Jackie-boy. And knock off the riding' 'n ropin' accent. I'm FaceTwoFaceTwoStepping (™Boleyn Enterprises) to ask you just what in the name of the Professor's Plaid Pants--oh my, I'm starting to sound a little like Dolly-g, I mean Fiora--you are up to."

"I'ma, oops, I'm, not following, doc, I mean Professor..." "Well, just a short week ago, Jack, you were called on the carpet by Fiora and you acted all contrite--after making excuses, of course. But a week later, after examining data from the Boleyn CumuloCloud (Boleyn Enterprises, and HA! beat you to it, iSaint Steven...) I find that you have, in fact continued your ways."

"Exhibit 1." "Whoan..." "Don't be agivin' me--dang, you got me adoin' it now--don't give me 'whoan', Jack. Give me two visits to Apizza Scholls in a week. That is not the Tao of 2-Step (2-Steps 2 Fitness, A Proven Path by Boleyn. Hey, where's the Boleyn Enterprises? If TRUMP can be a one word empire, Professor Javier Boleyn certainly can...) Jack. Read the book again. I want guilt."

"Exhibit 2. A trip to the ocean. Did you walk miles on the beach, dropping LARD to be washed from your body to the sea? No, I believe those are pan-fried oysters, french fries, and, I believe, not one, but two Imperial pints of IPA..." "Dolly-girl, pinch me and make this dream end!" "Snort! Mmmph!"

"Exhibit 3. The Hop House on 15th. Their LARD warning system went off when you crossed the threshold and activated the menucam  (® Don't-Lie-To-Me, LLC, optical technology by BOLEYN!which recorded you eating deviled eggs, in a nod to restraint, and a taster tray of a dozen IPAs." "They were small tastes..." "A dozen times 4 ounces comes to 3 pints using my calculator, Jack. Do I need to point out that this was the same day as your trip to Buoy in Astoria?" "No. No, Professor, you don't. That's strange, do you hear the sound of a tide coming in...?"

"Exhibit 4. Really, Jack? Really? You have the ability to joke about your condition? You post a picture of a Spam Burger on, what's the name of that little social site you use, Phase Book--I guess it is a phase compared to my time-proven  and universally used inventions--joking that I would approve of such fare, or as you call it, vittles. I most certainly do not approve, Jackie-boy."

"Professor, I'd really like to be beaten some more, but I seem to be getting wet." "That tide, Jack, is a sea of guilt washing over you..." "Gotta go, Professor. Agoin' for a waddle..." Click. "Who was it, Jack?" "Just a compadre athrowin' me a rope, Fiora. Just a feller I knowd..."