• most frightful freckles
• hand-drawn portrait of the Hamburglar
• spreading rumors about him
• Deeper is only better in oil wells and sword thrusts, my friend
• the single hockey puck we own

Tune in next time part 602      Click Here for Earlier Installments

“No way,” I said to John, bracing to keep him from shifting me aside. I heard the wood creak as he renewed his efforts to barge in. Soon none of us would have any shelter from the weather.

“What would your old gang think?” I grunted. “Doing them proud, wrestling to enter an outhouse where you’re not welcome.”

John scowled at me, but he relented. The gang I was referring to was the “frightful freckles” and as far as he knew only Jason was aware he’d ever been one. But like most frightful freckles, he had his photo tacked up in the post office between a hand-drawn portrait of the Hamburglar and a public notice from some public nuisance threatening a lawsuit if the Freemasons don’t stop spreading rumors about him.

During my vivid recollections, John ducked under my arm and managed to cram himself inside the crowded structure. His face ended up poised over the bowl. “Careful,” I said, laughing, “that looks pretty deep.”

His reply resonated underfoot. “Deeper is only better in oil wells and sword thrusts, my friend.” He tried to straighten up but was pinned under my arm and Tessa’s left leg.

I couldn’t stop laughing. “While you’re looking around in there,” I spluttered, “see if you spot the single hockey puck we own!”

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• remained footloose and single
• or at least his trust fund
• after a couple glasses of Chardonnay
• nice-looking doctor
• I live for the eroticism.

Tune in next time part 604      Click Here for Earlier Installments

“Ugh, another sewer,” I grumbled.

“He has a good point about the weather,” Tessa said.

“Push me!” John urged. He turned his head to eye me up. “Or is this going to be Weehawken all over again?”

That was a loaded question. I had an escapade with John in that town, tunneling into a bank vault, only we miscalculated and popped up in the self-help section of the public library. Thing is, I knew he and Jason also tried a heist in Weehawken. This had to be a test. But the only details I’d ever learned from my twin were that they tripped a sprinkler system, there was a bartender involved who took the fall but nevertheless remained footloose and single-minded about gin, and one of them had at one point impersonated the mayor’s son, Matthew.

Laying the lisp on thick, I asked, “Are you still in contact with Matt?”

“Oh yes,” John replied, “or at least his trust fund. And Trey got out last year and is back to slinging beers at the Happy Taphouse. He tells some amazing stories after a couple glasses of Chardonnay. Turns out his cellmate was this nice-looking doctor who got arrested for–”

“I thought we were in a hurry!” Tessa exclaimed, upending John into the toilet. He yelped and vanished into the blackness below. She said, “You next!”

Not wanting to find out what means of persuasion a ticked-off TSS-A unit might have at her disposal, I dove after John. But my shoulders are broader than his, and I immediately got stuck. The quick-thinking Tessabot began shoving on my buttocks in an effort to cram me through the opening.

“I think you like this,” I said.

“I live for the eroticism,” she replied, and shoved harder.

John thought I’d been addressing him. Grabbing my wrists and yanking, he said, “Guess I’m just a sentimental fool. But this is already better than Weehawken.”

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• knees began to buckle
• most erotic Dennis the Menace
• shave their taints
• out of spite
• I’ve been doing it my whole life and it’s hard to stop.

Tune in next time part 606      Click Here for Earlier Installments

John made an embarrassed little noise and scraped his glove on the stone floor to remove the offending globule. He got to his knees, reaching to Tessa for help the rest of the way up. The sight of him kneeling and her poised over him brought a flutter to my chest and my knees began to buckle. It was either the schmaltziest rom-com poster or the most erotic Dennis the Menace ever published. Why it was hitting me so hard I couldn’t understand, but I slumped back against the wall for support.

“Odorless and quick-acting,” John said as he stood with assistance from Tessa. “And there’s a convenient antidote that can be administered in advance. Those are the pluses. But it’s saliva-activated and, of course, doesn’t work on robots. Those are only pluses under very specialized circumstances.”

Tessa turned to me with a curious expression, and John moved with lightning speed, his finger jabbing the button mounted behind her left ear and freezing her in that quizzical pose.

“Nothing personal,” he said. I tried to lunge at him, but only managed to slide down into a seated position. “This is really for your own good, Jason. You’re not ready to face these people. You’d be found out as a mole inside of an hour, but I can blend in. You see, to them outsiders are the cause of all the world’s ills, and they shave their taints out of spite. It’s just a lucky coincidence that mine’s already shaved. I’ve been doing it my whole life and it’s hard to stop.” He shook his head. “If only your twin brother were here, he’d understand. I could bring him along on this mission. Oh well.”

And with that he loped off into the darkness of the tunnel.

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• according to the banner pinned to the wall
• it’s bandit country.
• each of the 24 wigs
• Suddenly, I want to touch him.
• “Out loud!”

Tune in next time part 608      Click Here for Earlier Installments

I struggled into a standing position, still leaning against the damp rock for support. Carefully, tenderly, I reached for the concealed button John had used to deactivate Tessa. I felt a soft click behind her ear. She remained motionless, but powerful beams of light shot from her eyes.

Blinking and squinting in the sudden glare, I surveyed the tunnel. “Well, Tessa,” I muttered, “according to the way these stones have been fitted, I would say our little subterranean passageway is a lot older than Twerkistan. And, according to the banner pinned to the wall, it’s bandit country.”

Given the likelihood of lurking bandits, I very much wanted to revive my formidable companion. A bit more exploration around the base of her skull turned up three more buttons, the third of which released Tessa from her paralytic state. I had left her headlights on, but as soon as she regained control she turned them off. “Gives me such a headache,” she explained. Fortunately her left pinkie contained an LED that was sufficient to keep us from tripping over anything.

“John went this way,” I said. “I wonder if he’s met any bandits yet.”

We were still wondering that a few minutes later when a large heap of hair came into view. Inspection revealed it was a pile of wigs, and each of the 24 wigs was exactly alike. All the same vibrant green.

I didn’t know what it could mean, and that made me angry at John for leaving me in the lurch, again. “Suddenly,” I said, “I wish to speak to John. Suddenly, I want to touch him. With my fists. A lot.”

Tessa nodded. Something she saw over my shoulder made her freeze, and I thought for a moment John had snuck up and hit that button again. But she spoke softly. “I’m going to turn and run. Count to ten and then chase me.” Before I could get her to clarify, she whirled away and vanished into the blackness. I had no choice but to comply.

My thoughts raced with the possibilities of what she’d spotted and why her instructions had been so unconventional, so I used the activity of counting to quell this storm within my mind. One, I thought. Two…

“Out loud!” came Tessa’s reprimand from the murky distance.

“ThreeFourFiveSixSevenEightNineTen!”

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• Like peacock feathers,
• create a new surname entirely
• expertise in the art of seduction
• what is with all the boob tassels?
• his chair with his bare feet

Tune in next time part 610      Click Here for Earlier Installments

I tried to take a casual step back, but Uncle Gossamer’s grip on my shoulder was unyielding. “Hey, that sounds great,” I stammered. “But what I need to do is go the other way.”

The two uncles laughed in unison, throwing back their heads to display their smooth, slender throats. Their chests bounced, giving motion to the ornamental fringe dangling from their complex bikini top. Like peacock feathers, and like their wigs, these tassels possessed an irridescence that enhanced the effect of their swinging motion.

“But you really must come with us,” Uncle Marigold purred. She moved close without seeming to have moved at all, breathing on my ear as she said, “We’ll make you cry uncle. Uncle Gossamer, Uncle Marigold, why you’ll have to create a new surname entirely just so you can keep going. I promise you you’ve never met anyone before with greater expertise in the art of seduction.”

“Only because he hasn’t met us yet,” came another rich, sultry voice. Its owner was another pair of green-wigged women conjoined in a bathing suit even more perplexing than the first duo’s. Its main motif was tentacles, but there was more to it. They spoke again, in unison, but I missed what they said because I was preoccupied with the realization that their suit’s octopus was busy in its garden. A row of some undersea vegetable crossed the shared bust, with sprigs of iridescent fronds strategically placed over all four nipples.

I thought, “These must be the bandits, but what is with all the boob tassels? And why did Tessa want me to wait while she ran away!”

The octo-posse laughed then, just as hypnotically as Uncle Gossamer and Uncle Marigold. They moved around behind me, enfolding me in all four of their arms. “This poor, befuddled person,” they cooed. “He needs to sit in his chair with his bare feet in a nice warm bath.” She whispered in both ears at once. “But, not really his feet, or a bath. But certainly bare, and definitely nice and warm.”

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