Title: Pockets

Summary: Flattop and Itchy find two additional unconscious bodies when they bump-off Lips Manlis' gang; a male and a female.

Author's Note: I'm having Stooge Viller not be part of Lips's gang in this story, so's I can pair him up with Mumbles later.

Three OCs are going to be in this story; my boys, Chug and Kokiri, and my sister's OC Chibi.

End of Author's Note:

Timeline: 1954

.

Flattop and Itchy dragged in the additional bodies they'd found when they went to bump off Lips Manlis's men at the warehouse. Initially, they thought they were part of Lips's gang, but when Itchy continued to pull item after item out of their pockets with no sign of their identification cards, they decided to take them to their hideout: the South-side Warehouse.

"Who are these two?" asked one of the minor gang members with a sneer.

"We haven't figured that out yet." Itchy answered, placing the male body down, while Flattop placed the female next to it, both were unconscious. How they'd gotten unconscious though, they had no idea. The male was wearing a sky-blue shirt, a black buttoned-up vest, tan trousers, white cotton socks and black sneakers. He had green hair (which they found unusual), and a black flat-top fedora completed the look. His skin tone was a light gold tropical tan. The female had cinnamon light brown hair, a maroon sweater, a short skirt, striped stockings, and black mid-calf boots. A pair of large glasses with swirls on the lenses completed her look.

"Make sure they remain unconscious." said Flattop. "I've got to go get Lips and Breathless."

Itchy brought out a bottle of chloroform and a white hanker-chief. A quick dousing of chloroform on the hanker-chief and he gave both bodies a quick dose of it, ensuring they remained unconscious before rifling through the male's right trouser pocket again, in search of the ID card.

His hands grabbed hold of an object and he pulled it out, revealing it to be a stick - that was blinking at the tip. He placed it down and rifled again, pulling out a normal twig this time. The next item he pulled out was a big red apple. Then a rubber dog bone, then a two-inch thick and fifteen inch long pencil, an old iron key, a yo-yo, a gift wrapped box, a bottle of some suspicious glowing liquid, another bottle of a 'sludgy' type liquid, a wind-up gold fish toy, a tiny, colorful bouncy ball, a plastic Easter egg . . .

"A fried chicken leg?" he questioned, before eating it.

By this time, his boss Big Boy had arrived but kept his distance until Flattop arrived with both Lips Manlis and Breathless Mahoney.

"Still digging?" Flattop asked.

"Still digging," Itchy answered, and pulled out the right side of a size 7 roller-blade boot. He looked at it questioningly, "OK, how did this fit in there?" he mumbled to himself, as Flattop and Big Boy were busy dealing with Lips Manlis. He shrugged and set it down next to the little pile of items.

The sound of the lid to the 'bath' box closed, followed by Lips screaming and then a loud splash told Itchy that Lips was now swimming with the fishies. Big Boy yelling about Lips's territory was now his territory, everyone who worked for Lips was now working for Big Boy, and everything Lips owned was now Big Boy's. But Itchy paid little attention to the announcement, intent on locating the male's identification card.

"Still no ID card?" Flattop asked, coming around hidden stack of boxes that had kept Itchy hidden from Lips, Breathless and Big Boy's views.

"Not yet. But this guy's got some deep pockets." Itchy replied, pulling out a bowling ball. "See what I mean?"

Flattop crouched down and dug through the left pocket and pulled out an empty bowl that held a pair of chopsticks.

.

One hour later . . .

The more stuff they pulled out of the pockets, the more baffled they became. So far, they'd extracted a cordless microphone, a rainbow plushie, a tiny little lamp, a packet of shiny stars, a painter's pallet, a canister of tennis balls, a canister of golf balls, golf clubs, a wooden baseball bat, a metal spatula, bottles and bottles of various suspicious looking liquids, condiment shakers, a few bottles of La Choy soy sauce (red-capped ones), a can of beans, a can of tomatoes, tomato sauce, a small bag of blue bird flour, a few dozen teddy bears of all sizes, shape and forms (including a dragon-teddy), an assortment of guitars, a large box that had the words 'Yamaha Amplifier' on it, a tambourine, a string of bells, a cow bell, drumsticks, several more Easter eggs, a live goldfish, a fully roasted and stuffed turkey fresh out of the oven, a coin purse, a skillet, an iron skillet, a waffle maker, a toaster, an assortment of precision tools for who knew what, a potted plant, a bag of gardening soil, balls of yarn, sea shells of varying sizes and shapes, a gold fish bowl that contained another gold fish, a clip-on bow tie, tooth picks, quills and ink bottles, dip pens, fountain pens, straws, little figurines of everything, a few ripe pineapples, a kitchen timer, glass bottles, a pair of oars, snow shoes, skis, cowboy boots complete with stirrups, knitting needles, crochet needles, squeaky toys, a few dozen wind-up toy mice, a bag of rice, water bottles, a drum set, a violin, a cello, a xylophone, a couple of accordions, a magician's cape and top hat, multiple handfuls of pencil cases (all of them full to the brim), matches, markers, and medical supplies.

"Where the hell is that ID?" Itchy asked, and pulled out a bucket of live craw fish.

.

Two hours later . . .

Flattop and Itchy sat back to take a small break. The items were getting bigger.

They had extracted a six-foot bongo drum, a complete set of steel drums, four fourteen-inch long pencils, four woks, a vegetable steamer, plungers, cases of instant cup-o-noodles, several wooden staffs and walking sticks ranging from 5-10 feet in length, a juke box, a turn-table, a call-table, dinner tables, a buffet table (which they began placing their pilfered items on), four white-wall car tires, a collapsable closet, an iron cauldron, large polished crystals the size of three fists put together, basket balls, soccer balls, foot balls, roller skates, ice skates, ice chests, a potted palm tree that was already five feet tall, cow horns, bull horns, ram horns, viking horns, conch shell horns, a small rubber mallet, a large wooden mallet, rolled up newspapers, four foot-long fish, a star shaped fly-swatter, six-foot easels, canvases, notebooks, binders, files, folders, a six-foot filing cabinet, larger bags of flour, four bags of giant Idaho potatoes, a sack of laundry, laundry detergent, fabric softener (both liquid and sheets), bed pillows, throw pillows, comfort pillows, decorative pillows, a ten gallon hat, a five gallon tank that contained a live tarantula, flashlights, poker cards and a 4 Ib bag of pistachios.

"All that stuff, and no ID." Itchy stated, wiping his brow with his sleeve.

"Just keep looking." Flattop said, also wiping his brow. "I'll check the girl's pockets. Maybe she's got normal ones." Flattop said, and right away, pulled out a 32 inch blue pen. "Nope, she's got deep pockets too." and pulled out a rubber chicken when, once squeezed in a tight grip, let out a loud "BARK! BARK!" which caused Flattop to instantly drop the thing in surprise. "How bizarre..." retorted Flattop as he reached back into the pocket. SNAP!

"Ouch!" cried Flattop. Itchy looked up in curiosity to see Flattop pry a mousetrap off his hand. The female's pockets were empty after an hour, and the only trouble he had with her was her endless supply of 'swirly' glasses that he'd tried to remove from her face (he'd quit removing them after losing count around 200). She had a relatively small pile, when compared to pile they'd gotten from the male. Her belongings only occupied one table, whereas the male was going on three.

But before he could dive back into the Pockets of Impossibility, a soft groan caught his and Itchy's attention.

"Oh, I think he's waking." Itchy said and quickly removed his tie to secure the male's hands with it. Upon feeling the waking male's left wrist, however, he discovered a shiny, stainless steel watch. The face of which was what looked to be polished black obelisk, the numbers in copper or bronze outlined with white and the hour and minute hands looked to be hand-crafted stainless steel, and the ticking hand a gold needle. The rim of the watch's face was lined with rhinestone filigree, and the outer line to that rim was a rotating compass. Itchy pressed down on the watch and it clicked, which he then found could rotate with the compass, while underneath the watch's space was what looked to be tiny little diamonds.

"Nice watch." he said and attempted to take the diamonds by up-turning the wrist, but a piece of glass kept them in place, and with the male gaining more consciousness by the second, he opted to just take the watch. After pocketing the watch, he quickly bound the male's hands and let go. Upon his release, the male shimmered and both Itchy and Flattop were subjected to the shock of their lives.

The male's skin changed from a light gold tropical tan to light grey, his hands went from tanned to black, and five fingers to four fingers, he gained a solid black bandit-like mask over his eyes and his ears went from nicely round to pink and pointy, with the outer side being black.

"All he needs is a tail with three rings, and he could be a human-racoon." Flattop mumbled.

"Call me human again and I'll have you watch chick-flicks for six hours." the male replied, yawned and opened his eyes, revealing them to be as blue as a clear summer sky. "Where am I?" he asked.

"None of your concern." Itchy responded and continued to dig through the pockets, pulling out a sword with a dragon design on the hilt.

"Hey, what are you digging in my pockets for?" the male asked, shifting away from the prying hands. "The least you could do is buy me dinner first before you go digging in my trousers, you fresh." he pouted. This resulted in Itchy pulling his hands away fast, and Flattop to snicker at the implications implied.

"I am not digging in your trousers, I'm rifling through your pockets." Itchy corrected indignantly.

"The pockets are part of my trousers, so you are in essence, digging in my trousers." the male retorted, then brought his knees up to his chest, flung them out and used their momentum to fling himself into a standing position, which revealed that he did indeed have a tail with three black rings, which he used to dust the back of his pants with. "But, so long as you are determined to continue with your . . . shall we say, pillaging? of my pockets, then at least let me see what it is that you'll pilfer, yes?" he said, and held out a hand, and noticed its state. "Hey, what happened to my watch?"

The female began to stir some time later, while the raccoon stood in place and allowed the pillaging of his pockets. She received the same treatment as him; a volunteered tie secured around her wrists. However, once she awoke fully, she was sat up and showered with questions. She looked over at the raccoon, quickly, and then back at the thugs and proceeded to grin widely.

Another hour later, her wide, creepy smile was innately sending shivers down Flattop and Itchy's spines. Flattop tapped the raccoon's shoulder. "Can't you get your cohort to say anything?"

Itchy nodded in agreement. "Yeah, she's giving us the creeps."

The racoon looked over at the female but she simply tilted her head to the side and continued to stare at the group. "I could..." replied the raccoon, nonchalantly. "But I won't. That's a can of worms I won't open."

Flattop and Itchy looked at the raccoon and over to the female. While the raccoon was mostly cooperative, the female just screamed maniacal-lunatic-mad-insanity, all rolled into one. She had not given her name, nor answered any questions given to her, and if the crooks bothered to notice, they would have realized they stood closer to the raccoon than near her. She chuckled and seemed to be enjoying the sight of her male counter-part being pick-pocketed though. She suddenly popped up from her sat position, causing both crooks to halt their pocket pillage and point their weapons at her.

"You move and I shoot," warned Flattop. The female paused, briefly, then grew a devious expression.

"Shoot then . . ." she said and then proceeded to detach the pair of bound wrists from her person, as if they were a prosthesis and set the prop on a crate behind her.

"You haven't used that move in ages!" exclaimed the racoon while the crooks looked in appallment. Then she dug into her pocket and pulled out the head of a vacuum cleaner hose and switched it on. All of her possessions were sucked back into her pocket. Then she sat back down on a crate and gestured with her hand, "Continue."

"How did we miss that?!" exclaimed Flattop. The male simply chucked in amusement.

Speaking of the male, the items pulled from his pockets continued to grow. Both Flattop and Itchy had pulled out more weapons, from a broad sword, to a double edged sword, a fencing sword, an Arabian sword, a pirate's cutlass, sais, nun-chucks, a few bo staffs, dozens of spears ranging from 3 feet to 10 feet. They'd pulled out a few cooking utensils such as frying pans, skillets, pots, spatulas, spoons, tongs, forks; a variety of knives: butcher knives, kitchen knives, dinner knives, steak knives, butter knives, jungle knives, army knives, a Swiss-army knife, a butterfly knife and a pocket knife. Other items included more toys: plushie dolls, squeakies, jacks, dice, cards, more yo-yos, finger traps (which Flattop steered clear away from), a dog rope, frisbees, bubble-makers, clown horns, cat-scratching posts, rubber duckies, bath toys, board games, chess pieces and a small plastic toy trumpet that didn't work.

"What else you got in there?" Flattop asked.

"Just some essential items, nothing more." the racoon answered.

"Essential items?!" Itchy questioned in disbelief. "A bowling ball is an essential item?!"

"YES!" the racoon answered simply and some-what proudly with his chest sticking out.

Itchy sighed and reached into the pocket again. The next item he pulled out was so unexpected that he screamed and dropped it. "What the hell is that?!"

"That, sir," the racoon began, pointing at the thing. "is an ROUS. A Rodent Of Unusual Size. Hey, Jeff." he smiled and waved.

The rodent in question was the size of a small dog, and when he was addressed, he stood up on his hind legs, marking him to be about 2.5 feet tall, and gave the racoon a two finger salute in reply before scurrying away.

"Jeff?" Flattop asked with a raised eyebrow.

"What? It's a good name." the racoon replied.

Flattop pulled out another live animal, a three foot diamond back rattler wearing a stetson that had its fangs displayed at him and its rattle rattling away. Flattop dropped it to avoid being bitten and quickly got out of its way as it slithered to the pile of pilfered items.

"Any more animals in there?" Itchy asked half jokingly, and half hoping that there wasn't.

"Most likely. Although it has been a while since I last checked on the rabbits." the racoon answered.

"You have rabbits breeding in your pockets?!" Itchy asked in slight disgust. "Isn't that a little unsanitary?"

"They make excellent fertilizer for my plants." the racoon answered, and stood still as both persons dipped their hands in his pockets once more, and both pulled out a pair of bunnies by their ears. "Huh, those two are new." the racoon smiled.

And so the pick-pocketing continued. They'd pulled out more snakes, rats, ROUS's, some lizards, a flock of pigeons and doves flew out of both pockets after one was extracted. Itchy's fingers had gotten snapped on by crabs, while Flattop got bitten by fish.

"Ooh! A little to the left," said the racoon when Itchy's hand went deeper into the pocket. "A little more, that's it! Ow! Not so hard, I bruise like a banana."

Flattop's next item had him bewildered. "A bazooka?"

"I have a permit for that." the racoon simply stated and looked to see what Itchy's item would be. It was a little orange . . . thing. The best description they could come up with was that it looked like an orange alien snowman, with red, round ears and black eyes that when squeezed, the eyes and ears popped out, and it gave a light squeak.

"I don't know." Itchy said, dropped it and dug around some more.

The next pile was a little hard to maintain and control as they kept rolling away and getting under their feet.

1 hr and 30 mins later . . .

"Man, you got a lotta balls." Itchy said, fanning himself with a pilfered hand-stitched embroidered cloth fan.

"Soccer balls, basket balls, foot balls, base balls, golf balls, tennis balls, skee balls, racket balls, dodge balls, rubber balls, bouncy balls, soft balls, volley balls, plastic balls, paper balls, even snow balls!" Flattop listed in bafflement and slight amusement.

"You even have holey balls." Itchy chuckled, picking up said holey ball.

"They're properly called whiffle balls." said the racoon.

"Why whiffle balls?" Itchy asked.

"Cuz they 'whiffle' when you 'fwow' them." the racoon laughed, getting a good laugh out of the other two at the sudden joke. "How long have you guys been rifling through my pockets?" the racoon asked.

Itchy checked his stolen watch. "Well, we started a 11:30 this morning, it's now 5:00."

"My good knees, how about we take a break, huh?" the racoon suggested, twisted his hands and was free of his bounds in a second. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a 2 liter bottle of Barq's Root Beer and gestured towards his still steaming turkey dinner. "Would you guys like to drink out of wine glasses, or 'cham-pag-ne' glasses?" he asked, setting the bottle in an ice bucket also pulled from his pockets.

After pouring their drinks, the racoon had stolen back his watch, resulting in his shimmering again, replacing his racoon looks with something more 'normal'.

"So, what have you two been up to?" the racoon asked, carving up the bird.

"Why are you asking?" Flattop asked calmly.

"Tryin' to make conversation. I don't like quiet meals." the racoon answered, serving up four plates.

However, conversation was not made possible due to noises among the crates.

"Walnuts!"

"That's Tracy." Itchy whispered, and he and Flattop hunkered down.

"Walnuts?"

"Pat, bring me Flattop and Itchy."

"Flattop and Itchy? What for?"

"I want to find Lips Manlis, fast."

"With a handful of walnuts?"

"Yeah, with a handful of walnuts?"

"Walnuts?"

After the footsteps faded away, Flattop and Itchy cautiously went back in their seats and continued eating.

"Question," said the female, raising her hand as if she were in class, "What year is this?"

"Uh, 1954, why?" Itchy answered.

"No real reason..." she answered as she looked at her nails with disinterest. "One tends to get a little disoriented when traveling from one place to another."

"And what city?" the racoon asked.

"New York." Flattop answered. "Who made this turkey?" he asked, carving himself another slice.

"I did, is it good?" the racoon questioned.

Itchy hummed in the affirmative and loaded his plate up with some of the smaller pieces. "Nice and juicy and flavorful."

"How did the two of you get into Lips's gang?" Flattop asked.

"Who's Lips Manils?" the male and female asked simultaneously.

"The guy with the oversize fish lips." Flattop answered.

Both captives just blinked at the poor description.

"He closely resembles Edward G. Robinson, but with thicker and wider lips." Itchy stated, buttering up a baked potato.

"Can't say I know the guy, do you?" the female asked the racoon, who shook his head.

"But we found you in his warehouse. How did you get there if you're not part of his gang?" Flattop asked.

"I was following her." the racoon answered.

"I... fell through a wall." the female grinned slyly.

Further conversation and meals was post-poned when a group of police men emerged from the stacks of crates and arrested all four of them and threw them in the paddy wagon out front.

"Oof! Nice welcome." the male grumbled in a pout.

The female composed herself and huffed. "I can't be seen in this world like this!" she exclaimed. Then she put two fingers to her temple and saluted the racoon with a grin. "This has been entertaining, but I'm off, mate. See ya later!" the female grinned and -pop- out of sight. The handcuffs she wore fell from thin air and onto the floor of the paddy wagon.

"Chibi!" the male shouted, then growled in frustration and then sat down between Flattop and Itchy in a full pout. "It's gonna take forever to find her now." he grumbled and crossed his arms, the handcuffs dangling off one wrist.

"Hey, how'd you do that?" Itchy asked.

"How'd I do what?" the racoon asked.

"Your hands. How'd you get out of your cuffs?" Itchy repeated.

"Oh, that just happens sometimes." the racoon answered and slipped the cuff back on, much to the appalled shock of his captors.

"Well, you think you could get us out of ours?" Itchy asked, holding his wrists up to the racoon.

"Possibly. If you two hadn't stolen my keys during your pillaging." the racoon smirked.

"We only took one key. It was an old iron one that looked to be 18th century." Itchy said.

"Oh, shame. That one opens the chest that holds all my other keys."

Itchy dropped his head on the male's shoulder and groaned in slight disappointment.

"Don't worry 'bout it. I've got something better. Just grab a hold of me, anywhere you like." the male said, then leaned closely to Itchy and whispered, "And I do mean anywhere, darling."

Flattop took hold of the left arm while Itchy took the right, and then the male twisted his watch a few times and it clicked and the next thing the criminals knew they were back in the warehouse, surrounded by all the stuff they took out of his pockets.

"Aw, my food's ruined. Do they have any idea how long it takes to bake a turkey and keeping it juicy and flavorful at the same time?" the male whined when he saw the state of their lunch. "Not long, if you're a professional like me." he mumbled and turned around to start putting his things back in his pockets but was held in place by his two captors.

"We're not done digging through your pockets." Flattop said calmly.

"And you have to get us out of these cuffs." Itchy added, holding up his hands; his left hand scratching his right wrist below the cuff.

"You took my iron key, and I can't slip out on command. It has to be when it's funniest the most." the male replied. It was only when a pair of automatics were pointed at his head from both sides did he reconsider. "Fine, I do know another way." he pouted and grabbed Itchy's hands first. "You got soft hands." he muttered, then promptly pulled them apart, breaking Itchy's and his own cuffs at the chain. Then he broke Flattop's chains as well, afterwards, Itchy swiftly took a spare tie out of his pocket and secured the male's hands again.

"So you don't pull anything on us." Itchy said and started digging in the right pocket again, "OW!" only get snapped by another crustacean. He quickly shook it off and reached back in.

"Wait, I've got something." Flattop said and pulled.

"I've got something too. It feels big." Itchy said.

"Why, thank you." the male said cheekily.

"Not that!" Itchy snarked in gross annoyance. "It feels more like a leather . . ." Itchy's voice trailed off as he realized his next choice of words would just sound dirty. He looked up at the male whose pockets he was digging through and saw that he had the biggest, cheekiest and toothiest grin on his face, like he knew what he was about to say and how they could be misinterpreted.

"Go 'head. I won't say anything." he said with an obvious tone of mischievous glee.

"That's it. After this item, I'm staying out of your pockets." he grumbled and pulled on the stuck item.

"Hey Table-top, how's about giving Buddy Holly here a hand?" the male suggested.

"It's Flattop,"

"Yes, I know it's a flat top. Like a table." the male "innocently" smiled.

"Who's Buddy Holly?" Itchy asked, eliciting a shocked gasp from the male.

"For shame! He's a musician. I swear, you look just like him. 'Cept for the blonde hair. Buddy's got dark brown curly hair, otherwise, you could totally pass for Buddy. Physically speaking. If you could sing, that'd be great, actually it'd be awesome; but to match his voice is something only you can answer. I mean, I could probably help, as soon as I get all my things back in my pockets. Why are you guys digging my pockets anyway? You never did answer that question. Come to think of it, I don't think I asked that question. Did I ask? I'm pretty sure I asked. But I tend to forget things a lot. Anyway, back to Buddy-"

Flattop tuned out the human-racoon's rambling about Buddy Holly, pulling out more bizarre items. The one he was was currently having trouble with finally gave way and turned out to be a double-barrel shotgun, followed by a sack of marbles, a bag of marshmallows, a bag of potato chips, packets of chewing gum, bottled spring water, a canoe, a kayak, and lastly, a cannon. He looked over at Itchy to see he was still struggling with his item.

Itchy pulled with all his might and out came something none of them expected. Not even their prisoner. They all just stared at the it, blank-minded and blinking. It was that much of a shock. They were silent for a full five minutes.

*Snort!*

". . . It's a horse. . . ." stated Itchy.

*Whi-i-inny*

"A fully bridled horse. . . ." said Flattop.

"How did he fit a horse in his pocket?" Itchy calmly asked.

"He had other animals in his pockets, why not a horse?" Flattop calmly questioned.

"HOW DID A HORSE FIT IN MY POCKET?!" the male screamed, startling the horse. "I don't carry horses in my pockets! They're too big!"

"Too big? Too big?!" Itchy asked incredulously, snapping out of his shocked trance. "A bazooka and a cannon he considers essential items, but a horse is too big?! Why do you have all this stuff with you?! How do you carry it?! How do you fit it all in your pants?!" he screamed on the verge of hysterics.

"I tuck it in." the male simply answered.

"That's not what I was talking about!" Itchy snapped. "All we were looking for was your ID, instead we get all THIS!" he growled in frustration.

"My ID? Well, why didn't you look in my vest? I usually keep it there." the male answered.

"I did check your vest. It was the first place I looked!" Itchy replied, upset that he'd wasted hours on this . . . being, and failed to locate his identification card, and began to scratch out of frustration.

"Oh, well then, why didn't you just ask for my name like a sensible person?" the male asked.

"I shouldn't have had to. Any normal person would carry their ID in an easily accessible area." Itchy replied irritably.

"Well, that should have told you something." the male replied back. "And the sad part is that all this stuff is just from my front pockets. You haven't even made a dent in them." he smirked, then turned around and bent over at the waist. "Care to try your hand in my back pockets?" he asked, wiggling his bottom.

Itchy glared at the human-coon and Flattop (who was seriously trying to laugh at his expense), and scratched furiously.

"Look, I even have some rubber gloves for you," Said gloves were extracted with a *snap* from the back pockets.

"You know what? I'm turning myself in. I can't deal with this." Itchy said in full irritation mode and turned to walk away, only to bump into Mumbles, Big Boy, Pruneface, Influence, Mocha and Numbers. Big Boy did not look happy.

"I thought I told you two the meeting would start at 2:30. It's now 6:30, and I come here to find that you want to turn yourself in because you can't deal with it?" Big Boy questioned.

"The guy had a freakin' horse in his pocket, OKAY?!" Itchy snarled.

Said horse nonchalantly clops past, *snort . . .*

"NO!" Big Boy shouted. "You are not to go anywhere unless I tell you to! You're mine, you work for me! I OWN YOU!"

"Dude, stop shouting. People can hear you." the male prisoner said, getting Big Boy's attention.

"And just who are you?" Big Boy asked, after a quick judgmental scan.

"For now, you can call me the Coon Kid." Coon Kid answered with a smile.

"The Coon Kid?" Big Boy repeated skeptically. "What kind of stupid name is that? Where'd you find this loser?"

"Found him at Lips's warehouse." Flattop answered.

"Lips Manlis doesn't have a warehouse anymore, it's mine. Give him a bath." Big Boy demanded, putting a cigar in his mouth.

"A bath? Well, now, that's hospitality. It's a lot better than being unceremoniously thrown into the back of a paddy wagon, I'll tell you that." Coon Kid smiled and let himself be led to a tall wooden crate that was sitting in front of a cement-mixing truck by Itchy and Mumbles. "Ooh! You even have an exfoliating cement shower! Hey Buddy, hold onto my watch!" he called out, entering the crate and then throwing his watch over the top, along with his hat, then his shoes, and lastly his clothes. "Don't lose my hat."

The cement started pouring in and the Coon Kid started singing the chorus bit from the 'Witch Doctor', scrubbing the wet cement all over his arms.

Big Boy finally noticed all the junk lying around the warehouse, "What's all this junk?" he asked.

"Got them from his front pockets." Flattop answered, picking up the fifteen inch pencil to occupy his hands. Big Boy often got on his nerves with his screaming.

"All of this? All of this junk came from that guy's front pockets, is that what you're telling me?" Big Boy questioned, a vein pulsing on the side of his head.

"Yes, Flattop answered simply.

Big Boy didn't look convinced, in fact he looked highly offended. "What do you take me for, a raddish? Don't tell me you and Itchy got all of this junk from some guy's front pockets, when there's clearly A BAZOOKA AND A CANNON SITTIN' RIGHT THERE IN FRONT OF ME!" he shouted. "I GOT YOU AND ITCHY OUTTA JAIL, YOU TWO OWE ME YOUR FREEDOM!" Then he turned to Itchy and Mumbles, who were standing near the still-filling crate. "WHY IS HE STILL HERE?! DROP HIM INTO THE WATER!" he shouted, a vein pulsing on the side of his face.

Itchy and Mumbles closed the lid of the box and pulled the lever. The box fell through and the splash that followed got Big Boy to puff up in satisfaction and swagger back towards the entrance, only to find the Coon Kid standing in front of him fully clothed with a smirk on his face and his arms crossed.

"How'd you get here?!" he shouted angrily. "We just dumped you into the ocean!"

Before he answered, the Coon Kid reached into his pocket, pulled out a giant pink baby-binkie and stuffed it in Big Boy's mouth with 'pop'.

"Stop shouting. What, you want the cops to find this place, and find you confessing to your crimes?" he question in a 'are you serious' tone. "I mean, technically, they already did. Some "big-shot" detective came around asking for a Flattop and Itchy cuz he wants to find that Lips dude pronto, but instead me, Table-top and Buddy Holly there get tossed in instead." he rambled, heading back into the warehouse to gather his stuff, but was once again taken hostage, re-bound and gagged, and placed in another crate.

While they waited for the crate to fill, they watched Big Boy try and pull the binkie out of his mouth but it wouldn't budge, and he was stuck with sucking a giant pink baby-binkie. He was not a happy man.

"You're not gonna be able to remove that on your own, y'know." Coon Kid called out before the crate closed again and he was again dropped into the ocean.

They all turned to leave again, only find him standing in their path - again. "Hi-i," he sang with a cheerful smile on his face. This time, they all pulled out their guns on him.

"Mm-mmm-m-m-m MMMM!" growled Big Boy.

". . . what?" questioned everyone else.

"Dude, I'm just gonna get my stuff and be on my way, chill." the Coon Kid said and took one step forward before he was seized again. "Aw-w-w, you guys are no fun." he pouted.

Seven hours later . . .

The warehouse was getting crowded. Itchy had kept his word and stayed out of the Coon Kid's trouser pockets and instead searched his vest pockets. The things they found:

4 large pink porcelain piggie banks

12 flyswatters - each a different pattern

30 dozen rolled up newspapers

40 large cartons of eggs (each carton held 48 eggs)

20 gallons of milk

50 bags of ice

100 cases of sodas - various flavors (a few were opened and taste-tested for "freshness")

300 little metallic cases (touch-screen phones/tablets/laptops)

40 watches in repair

67 clock gears

150 watch gears

20 fob watches

50 alarm clocks, varying sizes

700 mouse traps

745 scrolls of parchment

5 golden eaglets (followed by two angry mothers)

40 types of lizards

100 snakes

230 rodents

500 rabbits

10 pirate cutlass swords

25 daggers

50 cloaks

25 top hats

5 miniature dolls that looked exactly like him

45 old wooden traveling trunks

every type of mechanical tool known to man, and then some

15 steering wheels

8 bazookas

50 water-guns

100 packets of water balloons

50 rubber grenades

200 pencil boxes (all full)

100 boxes containing quills

150 bottles of ink (various colors)

10 unicycles

47 bike pedals

68 paint brushes

855 acrylic paint tubes

568 hair brushes

66 Arabian swords

89 pocket knives

17 parrots

25 live minks

40 fur coats (fake fur)

238 plants

46,654 packets of planting seeds

37 edible seeds

60 potted trees

78 potted flowers

23 potted herbs

20 potted vegetables

20 potted fruits

10 water cans

20 bags of cat food

20 bags of dog food

20 bags of fish food/bird feed/

46 empty plastic bottles

enough books to fill 80 book cases

12 desk lamps

40 boxes of matches

50 wikki torches

20 baby rattles/bottles

1 fifteen inch long x 3 inch thick pencil (and it worked)

23 yo-yos

10 bags of jacks

15 board games

20 chess sets

10 ice chests

20 dozen record albums

10 wooden toy boats

20 bath toys

50 Easter eggs

15 boxes of breakfast cereal

20 cereal bowls

18 box-sets of eating utensils

11 bags of tea candles

5 cured conch shells

7 giant snail shells

4 fossilized ammonite shell pendants

2 cases of shark teeth

15 bug cages, with bugs in them

9 tarantula cages

8 empty tarantula cages

2 empty magician escape kits

10 gallons of orange juice

5 different types of pies

3 double-layered cakes

7 six-packs of cupcakes

40 glitter containers

50 repair guitar strings

11 ukuleles

14 hand-carved wooden flutes

3 lyres

57 sketch books

And two small wooden mallets; one labeled 'Common Sense' and the other 'Logical Thinking'

"Are we anywhere near emptying your pockets?" Flattop asked, wiping his brow.

"Uh, . . . your guess is as good as mine, dude." Coon answered with a shrug.

"Can we PLEASE just stop and let him go? What's he gonna do to us?" Itchy complained.

"Considering what we've taken out of his pockets, plenty." Flattop remarked. "He'd be a great accomplice if we did robberies. Tracy would never find the stolen goods if he went through these pockets."

"Well, at least his hat's normal." Itchy commented, bringing out the flat-top fedora.

"That's what you think, handsome." Coon grinned, then clicked his tongue and winked at Itchy.

A heavy wooden groan under their feet caught everybody's attention.

"The warehouse is getting too full. If we continue to empty his pockets, we'll fall into the ocean ourselves." Numbers stated, calculating the weight of the various items from the Coon Kid's pockets, the shipping boxes, the "bath" box, the cement truck and their own weight in his head. The numbers were not looking good in their favor.

Big Boy shook his head and pointed at the bath box.

"I don't want another cement bath. I'm running out of shoes." Coon Kid whined.

"How can you run out of shoes when we've pulled 5 pairs out of your pockets?" Itchy asked incredulously.

"Hell-Oh! You're taking them OUT of my pockets." Coon answered in an obvious tone.

"'mgedn'ngry. [I'm getting hungry.]" mumbled Mumbles.

"Here, have a taco." Coon said, offering a plate of tacos to the little blonde before being led back to the bath box by Pruneface and Influence.

Just as he was entering the box, someone else strolled up to the binkie-suckling Big Boy and quietly asked what was going on.

"I'm having a third cement bath, brother. And they won't let me take my stuff back." Coon Kid answered with a whiny pout.

"And the binkie?" the new person asked, pointing with his thumb.

This new one had long-lavender hair, wore a black ensemble and tan boots. He had pale porcelain-tone-like skin and wore dark glasses on his face, and had a very feminine figure. If the Coon Kid hadn't called him brother, they would have mistaken him for a girl.

"He shouts, right up in their faces." Coon answered.

"Sounds like a spoiled brat." the brother replied, causing Flattop, Itchy, Mumbles and Pruneface to smirk in agreement. The brother then pulled the binkie out of Big Boy's mouth with a loud 'POP!', making Flattop, Itchy and Mumbles snort in amusement.

Big Boy re-calibrated his jaw before speaking in a more calm tone. "Look, I'll make you a deal. You work for me, and I'll let your brother live, he can retrieve all of his belongings. But if you mess up, betray me in any way and he gets the bath." Big Boy said, feeling confident that his deal had no loopholes for the new guy to get out of. He'd have the biggest, most dangerous gang in all of history and nobody would be able to touch him, not even Dick Tracy. He'll own the town soon enough. He gave a subtle signal to Mumbles to start the filling process and to be ready at the handle to drop the Coon Kid. The cement poured in over the Coon Kid's hat, covering his eyes.

"You join me, and you and your brother will be living a life of luxury with no clock to punch, girls will fall into your lap, all your troubles erased. But only if you agree to work for me. What do you got to say about that?" he asked arrogantly, putting an unlit cigar in his mouth.

The brother appeared to be thinking it over. "Hmm, I'd say that you're a spineless, gutless coward." the brother answered.

"You what?" Big Boy growled, puffing up in offense.

The brother didn't answer, instead a *shing* sounded and he thrust his left arm right through Big Boy's abdomen, splattering blood. His right arm quickly followed, splattering more blood, a loud *crack!* was heard and out came a bloody spine, followed by entrails and more blood, and Big Boy fell over - dead.

"I said you're a spineless, gutless coward." the brother repeated nonchalantly, tossing the bloody spine at Flattop [who caught it] like it was no big deal. "Now . . . who wants to live?" he smirked, his glasses shimmered in a challenge.

.

Pruneface, Influence, Mocha and Numbers pulled their guns out and aimed at the brother. But all he did was flick his finger nails like snapping fingers (since his hands were covered in blood) and they were immediately disarmed; their guns went flying out of their hands and into the pile of pilfered stuff. Another snap of his fingers and the bath box was disassembled, and the wet cement slithering away to wrap around Pruneface, Influence, Mocha and Numbers's feet and instantly hardened.

Flattop watched all of this - Big Boy's sudden death and the literal magic by the brother - with wide eyes of astonishment, and he couldn't help himself. The display was too much to handle. He ran up to the brother and bowed into service, "Master! Let me serve you."

Finally! Here was someone who was as ruthless as he was, didn't give a DAMN about himself except to those who were family, and was not afraid to kill anyone who stood in his way or get his hands dirty. He just hoped that this Big Boss wouldn't rely on others to do all the hard work and then take credit for their accomplishment.

Itchy on the other hand . . . had sidled up to the now cement-free Coon Kid nervously. "So-o, about that dinner date . . ." he began. If the brother was as ruthless to those who threatened his brother as he was to Big Boy, then he'd better take the flirting in stride and learn to live with it, or he'd be deader than road kill.

"Relax, Buddy, only if you truly want to. I'm not the type to force people into uncomfortable situations due to some deadly display. By the way, do you still have my watch?" Coon asked.

Itchy quickly fished out the watch and handed it over.

"Besides, I could've handle the lotta yeh on my own." he added, fixing his watch.

"Oh yeah? How? There were eight of us and only one of you, and you were bound and gagged." Pruneface stated.

"Seven, there were seven of you. This thing here wouldn't have drawn a weapon when he's got such an entourage always following him." the brother corrected, the 'thing' being the late Big Boy.

"He was still out-numbered." Numbers put in.

"Says you." Coon said in a sassy tone and called out, "Tasers at the ready!" and hundreds of tiny red lights found their way on the pinned four and the sound of hundreds of gun-hammers being pulled back echoed in the warehouse. "Fire at will." Coon grinned and dozens of blue lights shot out from everywhere and landed true to their aim, sending the bound four into convulsions as electric shocks coursed through their bodies.

"Don't worry, it's low voltage, it won't kill them." he said, and finally started re-pocketing his stuff. "And this is just on my command. Some of them actually are lethal, others give sedatives, and others have chainsaws for claws to render their prey immobile. Then there's the venom and straight-up poison for a slow and painful kill, and that's just the tip of the iceberg, handsome." he said to Itchy.

"So, with Big Boy dead and you being the one who killed him, you're our new Big Boss and everything he owned now belongs to you, including the members of the gang." Flattop said to the brother. "What do you know about organized crime?" he asked.

"Depends on how organized you lot are." the brother answered and gave Coon Kid a questioning glance.

"Definitely! Sounds like a lotta fun. Besides, I don't like how them flatfoots gather their suspects without cause. Especially that one guy with the yellow hat." Coon Kid stated. "What was his name? Yellow is so not his color."

"You mean Dick Tracy?" Itchy asked.

"Is that his name? Sounds very suggestive," he mumbled.

"Clean out your mind, Kid." the brother retorted, picking up a few of the more delicate things to help with the packing.

"Alrighty, that looks about right. You three, stay with him." Coon said, referring to Itchy, Flattop and Mumbles to stand near the brother, which they did. Then he reached into his back pocket, pulled out a vacuum tube with a wide-mouthed square head and sucked all of his belongings up back into his pockets. "All done. I'll see you later, brother." he said and vanished using one of his magician capes, which the new Big Boss picked up and motioned for the others to quietly follow him through the trap door.

"There's three people approaching, all wearing badges." he explained, and walked down a conjured staircase made of ice.

"Juss huzactly are you?" Mumbles whispered, since he was the closest.

"Let's save the questions for later, savvy?" the brother whispered back.

"You can understand him?" Itchy hissed.

"Of course, can't you?" the brother questioned, creating level ground for them to stand on as the commotion happened above them.

"Jumpin'-Jiminy, Tracy! It's Big Boy!"

"My god, what kind of monster would do such a thing?"

"Well, the city should be safe now, seeing how Big Boy's no longer roaming the streets."

"Sam!"

"What? You said so yourself. 'The city won't be safe with Big Boy on the streets.' Well, hard to roam any streets when you're dead." Sam stated.

"Yeah, but I wanted to be the one to bring him in! Once I did that, the city would have been mine to manipulate!" Tracy growled.

"Tracy!" spoke two scandalized voices.

Silence. The seven villains below were all ears.

"You didn't hear that." Tracy stated in a threatening tone. "And if you squeal, I'll rub you out myself. I got a whole collection of weapons from the crooks after apprehending them. I can easily place the blame on one of them, and be scott-free."

"So all this talk about not wanting to sit behind a desk . . .?" Sam wanted to know.

"I don't want to give my game away too early. Being out on the streets helps me to keep an eye on everyone. Especially Mumbles." Tracy sounded like he was smirking.

Everyone but the Big Boss Brother looked at Mumbles questioningly, who looked as angry as a hornet's nest.

"Why Mumbles?" asked Sam.

"Yeah, why Mumbles?"

"I needed an informant, and if he ever wants to see his crime partner alive again, he'd better stay put." Tracy growled.

"Crime partner?" Sam asked.

"What'd you do with him?"

"Forced the little twerp to shoot him first, then sent the lad to a hospital under disguise and told the doctors to keep him in an induced coma! Now stop asking questions and let's get outta here." Tracy snarled. "And don't even think about squealin' to Brandon. I'll know it if you do and have you two locked up on Rock Island before you could plead for any case!"

The footsteps retreated, but they remained where they were for five minutes before re-emerging from the trap door.

"I don't believe this. I do NOT believe this! Tracy's been a bad guy this whole time! Mumbles is a forced informant! Big Boy's dead! We got a guy who can do 'abra-cadabra' magic, and another guy who can actually DO magic! The magician is some sort of alienized-racoon, the creepy girl with the swirly glasses is probably in on their deal, we get impossible things pulled from pockets of all things, including that freakin' horse . . .!" [Said horse is standing next to a rambling, scratching Itchy] *whinny* "You hush up! What is happening here?! Has the world gone mad or something?!" Itchy asked in a desperate tone.

"Look, why don't you guys go stay at a hotel for the week, put the tab on my bill; here's my ID card for the front desk, and just think everything over. My brother and I will be down once we've settled everything with our properties. That sound all right with you?" the brother asked.

"A week at the Smetherly Hilton with all expenses paid? Sure, why not?" Pruneface said, having always wanted to live a life of luxury on someone else's bill.

"No major alcohol consumption. I will not tolerate drunkards. A glass or two is okay; oh, and no smoking indoors please. It makes my brother sick. If you must smoke, please go up to the roof. Now, anything I missed?" the brother asked.

"What happens if the cops catch us?" Influence asked.

"Three to four days is not going to kill you. Don't be such babies. Freckles -"

"My name is Flattop." Flattop said, annoyed that neither of these brothers had immediately called him by his obvious title. "And you can tell that to your brother. This is Itchy, that's Mumbles, and over there you got Pruneface, Influence, Mocha and Numbers." he said, introducing everyone.

"Ok then, Flattop, take charge of the week and gather any info you can about this gang that's fallen into my lap. I'll get back to you within a week a most." the brother said and turned to leave.

"What do we do with Big Boy?" Itchy asked.

"Just leave him. It'll look strange if them detectives return to pick him up only find that he's suddenly gone missing." the brother said and left.

The seven villains looked at each other, shrugged their shoulders and did as they were told.

"So, what hotel should we stay at, and how do we contact him once we select one?" Itchy asked.

"Let's go to the Smetherly Hilton and see if this card's any good." Flattop said and led the way. He, Itchy and Mumbles left in one car, and the other four followed in the car they came in with Big Boy.

Arriving at the swanky hotel, Flattop had everyone stay in their cars until he was sure the ID card worked. He showed the card to a dark haired desk lady, who motioned another worker over and whispered conspiringly for a few minutes.

"Alright, what's the deal?" the dark-haired front desk lady asked.

"A slender man with long hair and dark glasses sent us to spend a week to compose ourselves. There's seven of us waiting." Flattop said, trying not to give away too much. He didn't like being in charge of anything long-term if he could help it.

"Does he have a Coon Kid?" the front lady asked.

"Yes," Flattop answered.

"Would you like your party to have attached doors so's you can stay connected?"

"Attached doors?" Although it came out more like an answer than a question.

"That's all I need. We've got five rooms available on the fourth floor, all double-beds. If you could retrieve your party while I prepare your keys, I'll show you up to your rooms." she smiled.

Flattop gave a small nod and left to get the others.

Upon arrival, the front desk lady showed them their keys, ten hard-plastic cards with a black strip on the backs. "Now, to get into your rooms, you simply insert your key into this slot here, wait a couple of seconds and then pull them out. Once the lights turn green, you can go in." she said, demonstrating how the cards worked. "Your rooms all have attached doors, so you can visit each other without having to wander the halls. Enjoy your stay, and don't worry about the bill, the Captain's paying, just don't take advantage of his generosity or the Coon Kid'll have you sobbing your heart out for mercy. Have a good day!" she smiled, winked and left in a very cheerful mood.

"Alright, now I'm nervous." Itchy muttered to himself.

Flattop handed out the different keys, each having numbers on them that matched the room they were staying in. He opted to have a room to himself, while Itchy and Mumbles shared a room, Pruneface and Influence shared one and lastly, Mocha and Numbers. Which left a spare room for the two odd brothers. Pruneface and Mumbles immediately called up room service and ordered the most lavish plate they wanted, telling the operator that they were guests of The Captain.

"Hey Mumbles, while you're ordering, see if they have any of that soda stuff. I want another 7up. A cold one, and a plate of spaghetti with a fruit salad on the side." Itchy said, scratching his back and his chest at the same time. Mumbles ordered up their orders, surprised that the operator was able to understand him well enough.

.

The Evening Newspaper was sent up to the seven of them, with the headlines screaming in big, bold letters: MOBSTER BIG BOY FOUND DEAD IN SOUTH-SIDE PIER WAREHOUSE

The details of of the story went on about how Dick Tracy, Pat Patton and Sam Catchem were investigating the warehouse from an anonymous tip about odd disturbances and found Big Boy lying in a pool of his own blood and entrails. The details were very specific about how he was found and explained the 'how' he was dead, including the fact that a large portion of his spine was missing and labeled it as a murder scene. Speculation after that was on reasons why Big Boy could have possibly been killed, or who could have killed him, but no suspects were listed. This was a relief to them, even with warrants of Flattop and Itchy printed in the newspaper for their arrests, and to report any sightings of them to the one station where Tracy worked at.

Flattop gathered as much information about the gang as he could, per the New Boss's orders, and so had to 'mingle' with his neighbors. (yech!) He returned to his room every night to shake the shivers off of himself, have a quick shower and then call it a night.

By the end of the week, the brothers were true to their word and returned. The Coon Kid squeezed Itchy (calling him Buddy, of course) 'til Itchy was red in the face. Flattop wasn't sure, but he could have sworn he heard Itchy gasp out "My spine!" in pain. When Itchy was released, he was left holding his middle and gasping for air.

Mocha, Numbers and Influence had decided to leave and return to their own districts and gangs a few days after the Warehouse Incident, stating they were fine where they were before Big Boy called a meeting of Bosses to gather for some scam he was conjuring. Flattop had explained what Big Boy had in mind about that scam to the brothers who thought it to be a good idea, pointing out the pros and cons of it.

The only thing that was different from Big Boy's plans from the brothers' was that they didn't automatically declare themselves to be Chairman of the Board, like Big Boy was going to do. That, and they wanted to do the scheme legally by registering The Club Ritz officially as a public domain of entertainment. This did not go well with Pruneface, who wanted to add in a gambling unit and dancing girls. He was immediately dismissed by the two brothers as the brother didn't want anything to do with gambling, and Pruneface left in a huff.

Now, being criminals by nature, Flattop and Itchy didn't like the idea either, but the pros of legally registering The Club Ritz had its high points. For one, Tracy wouldn't be able to just waltz in any day he wanted and search the place without a proper warrant. Mumbles had put in that Tracy would often do that with fake warrants to search various clubs, and the brothers surprised them by producing search warrants for Mumbles to select which one Tracy used. He pointed to three different fake copies, before the brothers showed them what a real one looked like, then taught them how to spot the differences.

"It's gonna have to wait until I actually see this Club Ritz before I can make any decisions." Coon Kid said.

"So let's head down there." the brother said.

"Ey! Wenryu gonaanser mykweshuns!" Mumbles pouted.

"What questions do you have in mind, little dude?" Coon asked.

"You can understand him too?" Itchy asked.

"Yeah, it's plain english, innit?" Coon asked. "Why? Can't you?" he added.

"No, nobody can, except maybe Tracy since Mumbles's his informant." Itchy answered.

"Juss huaryu two?" Mumbles asked.

"Oh, well, my name's Chug Yamazaki, this is my brother Kegs. He's got plently of other aliases'eseses'. Some on the more common ones are Captain, The Blue Fox, . . . ok, maybe those two are the only common names he's known by on a wider base. I call him Kegs, and obviously, brother; and when people are talking about the both if us, we're called the Two Brothers." Chug answered.

"So why call yourself Coon Kid?" Flattop asked.

"That's my bank name, 'The Coon Kid'. It's for when some of my people go in on my account. Or when I do some charity work and can't sign checks in person." Chug answered.

"Charity work? So you're rich?" Itchy asked.

"Yes, and my accountant doesn't like how rich. He says I make more than I can spend, and gets after me when I make a triple amount of what I do spend. He's actually mad because my vaults are taking up most of his bank's space. Then he just stopped talking to me altogether when I told him that his bank was the last one I could find to hold my goods. I'm registered at maybe ten other banks."

"Ok, give me an estimate of how rich you really are. How many figures?" Itchy asked.

"Uh-h, how many figures are in a billion ten-ton 20 karat gold bullion?" Chug asked sheepishly, then startled when Itchy fainted in his arms.

"And you?" Flattop asked, looking at the brother.

"All's I know is that I have more than he does." the brother answered with a shrug.

This time Mumbles fainted, but no one had caught him.

"I suppose I should tell him it was all earned after he wakes?" Chug smiled, placing Itchy in a bed then started fanning him with a straw oriental fan.

"You earned all of your money?!" Flattop asked in astonishment.

"Mostly, a handful of it was an inheritance from my birth mother." the brother said, placing Mumbles on a separate bed.

"How much is a handful in your eyes?" Flattop asked.

"Eh, six figures at least. It's a decent amount. Another portion comes from by biological father when I sued him for everything he owned, which wasn't much. He was heavily in debt with the banks. I don't care too much for money myself, I was more interested in getting his businesses." the brother answered.

"And with the Fire Queen still trying to get into your good graces by giving you diamonds and other gems harvested from her mines, you've easily got about a million right there." Chug said, still fanning Itchy.

"A million dollars . . ." Flattop mumbled quietly to himself. "You've got a Queen, an actual Royal Queen trying to get into your good graces by bribing you with mined gems?" Flattop asked, still astounded.

"She's not a Royal, she's a Noble. And all mothers try to get on their sons' good side when they finally find them." the brother answered.

Hearing that the brother, his New Boss, was the son of a freakin' Queen was the last point that made Flattop faint.

Chug stopped fanning Itchy and stared at Flattop for a good five seconds, before letting out a devious little chuckle then continued to fan Itchy.

"What is it with people fainting when they learn of my heritage?" the brother asked.

"Noble bloodlines aren't generally seen walking amongst commoners on Earth, brother. And I think they call Nobles 'Royals' on Earth as well. I mean, not many people believe in dragons, after all. They think they're mythical creatures brought up by some sort of hallucination or a quick and easy explanation for the unexplainable things." Chug leaned down to whisper in Itchy's ear, "If you don't wake up soon, I'm gonna give you a kiss."

Itchy shot up with a startled gasp and scooted as far away as he could from the Coon Kid without falling off the bed.

"We'll check out the Club with these two, Mumbles can stay here." the brother said and revitalized Flattop.

.

The four of them entered a mostly empty Club Ritz. They'd found Numbers and Pruneface talking to two other people - a balding male with very greasy hair, and a blonde female with a sultry looking face.

"Ah, th-th-there you are, boss." Numbers said nervously. "Tracy just stopped by asking for Flattop and Itchy, and he presented us with a search warrant in order to look for them.

"He has no grounds to apprehend them without probable cause, and being known criminals is not an excuse to do so." the New Boss said, immediately spotting the piano in the corner.

"Really?" Flattop and Itchy asked together.

"Yeah, all law enforcers should know that. It practically gets drilled into your head at the Police Academy." Chug said. "Now, let's get down to business." he said, rubbing his hands together and then brought out a pencil and notepad from his pockets.

The first thing the brother did was dismiss Pruneface, Numbers and the other two; Breathless Mahoney and 88 Keyes -her piano player. Then Flattop and Itchy showed them around the building, Chug took notes of everything and collaborated with his brother about how to improve some points, or suggest renovations here and there. When they came to the kitchen however, Chugs dug into his left pocket, brought out a flag pole with a grinning racoon on the flag and staked his claim on the kitchen, "Das is MEIN Kitchen!" he stated. His actions got his brother to chuckle a little, and shake his head at his brother's antics.

"So, who are Miss Mahoney and Mr. Keyes?" the brother asked.

"They were originally part of Lips's gang." Flattop answered.

"The same Lips you thought I was a part of?" Chug asked, whipping out ingredients to make himself a quick sandwich.

Itchy nodded, and continued to give Chug the tour of the Club Ritz (with great reluctance) while Flattop took the brother up to the meeting room to give his report about what he knew about Big Boy's gang and how some had gotten into his service, including himself and Itchy.

Chug made a rough sketch of what he could commit to memory, but opted to go and retrieve the blue prints from City Hall instead, as his drawing was made of crayon and had water spilled all over it. Itchy claimed that it looked like a child's drawing, which Chug took as a sweet compliment.

After looking the blueprints over, Chug decided to make the Club Ritz into an amateur theater for young performers; and in case the young performers didn't have a place to stay, the attic space would be turned into a hostel area. Chug could hire his own kitchen staff (since he claimed it, it would have be put in his name) for the Club diners, and have complimentary breakfast for the hostel quarters. The meeting room would remain the same, and both brothers thought it a good idea to have monthly fire drills for the people of the building in case of fire. And if they couldn't get any performers for a night, they would put on a show. Chug offered to do a live cooking show every four months, put on some magic shows, and hold raffles.

"Raffles? What for? You know, money can go a long ways, but every now and then, people want something that's sparkly-shiny-pretty." Itchy said.

"Oh, well, will these do?" Chug asked, bringing out some of his cases and revealed a collection of black diamonds, pink diamonds, emeralds, yellow sapphires, rubies and smoky quartz.

"Heck yeah!" Itchy grinned and made to swipe one, but Chug pulled them away a second faster than he did.

"No you do-on't. They're not properly processed. I still need to work on them." Chug said.

"Aw, can't I hold one at least?" Itchy asked.

"Do you have regular diamonds?" Flattop asked.

"Yes, but I don't give those away, and Kegs hordes all the blue ones." Chug said, bringing out a catalog book for them to look through. "And for the female patrons, I suppose I could offer fur coats, gift certificates for salons, free vacations, free cruise, a night out with the girls, anniversary celebrations, that should get us good ratings and increase population thus more money for the business. And if you sneak your hand towards me one more time, I'll put my goods down the front of my pants." Chug said, scribbling everything down.

Itchy pouted. "How 'bout if -"

"Business before pleasure, darling. Pleasure should always be restricted to the house." Chug smirked, wiggling his eyebrows in his direction. "Now, we can put bathrooms here, here and here for the hostel area, the ground floor restrooms needs some slight renovations; we're gonna need safety lines for when I do live cooking shows . . ."

.

The meeting went through the whole night, Chug called up Mumbles to let him know where they were at and that he could claim the room as his permanent residence if he wanted.

"Do you guys want to live there as well? I can claim Buddy Holly, Kegs can take you." Chug said, pointing at Flattop.

"Usually its the Big Boss who takes sole control of the gang." Flattop said.

"We're not usual people." Kegs said.

"You can say that again." Itchy mumbled quietly.

R-r-r-i-i-ing-g-g! Chug brought out one of those metallic case things, "Jallo? . . . DARL-ING! It's been so long since I heard from you, two hours ago." he smiled and rotated his chair away from the others and continued to talk in that small box.

"Pay no mind. You'll get your own once we've got a good stream going on business." Kegs said, shuffling through papers.

"What kind of racket do you two deal in anyway?" Flattop asked.

"Reform crooks to sniff out corrupt cops." Kegs answered.

"Reform crooks?" Itchy asked and started scratching the back of his neck.

"Corrupt cops? Those are real?" Flattop asked.

"Yeah, they're actually quite common. There was one we busted a couple years ago who kept stealing food from a food stand where he was stationed. And another for speeding in a school zone, speeding in a resident zone, and blocking emergency loading zones with a helicopter. There was even a police dog that kept breaking into dog pounds for their females." Kegs answered.

Flattop and Itchy were jaw-slacked at this. Heap O' Callory, Go-Go Gomez and Hemlock Holmes were corrupted cops?!

"Uh, did these coppers work for anyone?" Itchy asked.

"Yeah, some guy named Dick Tracy. There was one detective on his squad that wasn't corrupted, I think it was a little Japanese guy, and a whole squadron what called themselves The Re-something-ables, I think."

'Re-something-ables' got Flattop and Itchy snickering at the mispronunciation.

"Oh yeah, the Whatcham-ables. I liked the little one, Freddie. He kinda reminded me of me." Chug smiled coyly and pocketed his little black box. "That was my accountant, he said I made another $300,000 and demanded that I spend double the amount. So, what can I get in this time zone? Any ideas? Do you guys want anything? A house? New clothes? New car? Bail money? Bills you want to get rid of? Something for your girls? Anything?" Chug asked.

"How about a split-level house for my wife and kids? A ranch home for my mother and my sister, and a champion race horse?" Flattop asked.

"Okay, pick out the places, and we can go to the race track tomorrow. While you're at it, throw in a shopping spree for your wife and kids for whatever they want. I can offer dental insurance, medical insurance and car insurance. That is, unless Kegs decides to take you under his wing, then he's got to pay for all of that."

"What about me?!" Itchy whined. "I'm the one that turns your head." he pouted.

"Oh, my darling, I've got a couple dozen vaults set aside for a future family. In the mean time, I've got to figure out how to spend the rest of the 30 vaults I have. He barely cleared out one."

"Barely? How much is 'barely'?" Flattop asked.

"Eh, eight figures, give or take. You brought me down to at least five figures." Chugs answered.

"Brought him down to at least five figures." Flattop mumbled to Itchy.

"Oh, one other thing about my riches, darling. You'll only get it if you're faithful. If you're not, you're gonna wish you were taken out like Big Boy." Chug said.

"You better believe it. Compared to his methods, I'm a saint." Kegs said, scribbling down.

"Yeah, what kind of killing methods do you have?" Itchy asked.

"Who said anything about killing? I don't kill, I torture the mind until they start begging for death, and then I don't give it to them." Chug grinned. "You guys had better pray that you're not pedophiles, otherwise I'll add your twig and berries to my collection." he said and slid them a jar full of liquid containing said "twig and berries". Both men shuddered at the sight and crossed their legs and looked paler than before.

Itchy pulled at his collar nervously. "Uh, w-w-what's a pedophile?" he asked, his throat having suddenly gone dry. Chug leaned in and whispered the answer to him, while Kegs wrote his out for Flattop to read. Then both turned green and loudly declared that they weren't one, haven't ever been one and didn't plan on becoming one to the point that they confessed to not having willfully harmed a child directly. Itchy even blurted out that he's always wanted to have kids but couldn't because of his preferences couldn't have any.

"Preferences?" Chug asked, his grin growing wider.

"Don't tell anyone." Itchy glared.

"Course not, darling, if I did, I'd have to come out too. Then Kegs would go on a rampage and flood the whole city because suddenly there's people trying to burn us at the stake because we prefer to bat for the same team instead of going the "normal" way. Humans, go fig." Then Chug got up, grabbed Itchy and spun him into a dip. "So's how about you an' me gettin' to know each other tonight?" he smirked and started making kissy noises.

"Kid, drop him." Kegs commanded, and Chug dropped Itchy. "Start slow, don't scare him."

"I've got a few errands to run anyway. You go with table-top tomorrow for him to pick out the houses, and I'll go with him the next day to pick out the horse. Ciao! Bye, darling. (smooch)" Chug scurried out of the meeting room faster than a squirrel.

"Did he just kiss me?" Itchy asked.

"Yeah," Flattop answered.

"Table-"

"Flattop." he corrected before he could be called table-top again.

"What's your birth name?" Kegs asked.

"My birth name?" Flattop asked.

"Yeah, the name you were born with. I'm a ship's captain, so I'll be running this gang like I do my ship."

"Well, I'm actually adopted. I was adopted into the Jones family." Flattop answered.

"Okay, so I'll go with Jones. Mr. Jones, or just Jones?"

"Just Jones will do. Mr. Jones reminds me too much of my uncle." Flattop answered.

"Okay, and you?" Kegs asked, turning to Itchy.

"Itchell Oliver." Itchy answered.

"Any prefences for your name?" Kegs asked.

"I'll stick with Itchy." he said, scratching his arms.

"Chugs is a certified MD, so he can look into your condition, if it is a condition. He's also a certified Psychologist, in case your scratching is psychosomatic, which means it's in your head and you come up with elaborate excuses in order to avoid the root of the problem, while said problem takes on a physical manifestation of your mental troubles." Kegs said. "Now, my brother and I have always worked on just about everything together. This gang's gonna be no different. Itchy, you'll be the prime leader of his group. Jones, you'll be mine, and we'll divy up the rest between us."

.

1955, late Autumn-Ten months later

Pruneface, Influence, 88 Keyes and Mumbles went under Kegs' wings; while Mocha, Numbers and Breathless Mahoney went under Chugs. Breathless, Keyes and Numbers told the brothers about how Big Boy wanted some big number about money and gave Chug the rehearsal sketch of what he wanted.

"It's not a bad number, but it does need a lot of work. I'm guessing Breathless is gonna be in some tight, form-fitting dress. The girls in short skimpy skirts to show off their wiley forms seeing as they're the main dancers and back-up singers. Brother, give me a few keys, I wanna see this again with your fingers at the ivory. Breathless, you start off. Kegs, you jump in when I say, and then follow her."

"Got my diamonds

Got my yacht

Got a guy I adore

I'm so happy with what I've got

I want more"

Chug pointed at his brother who jumped in and played along with her notes and key.

"Count your blessings

1 2 3

I just hate keeping score"

The whole number was run through three times with subtle changes, but it still didn't sound right. So Chug dismissed the girls to rest up for the night, while he tried to come up with a way to spice it up a bit. He was just thinking about scrapping the whole thing altogether.

"The song's all out there. Sure, there's a rhythm, there's a small beat, it's somewhat jazzy, it's slightly catchy, but otherwise, it's . . . It's . . . It's lacking something. I just don't know what."

"It sounds a little too circus, if you ask me." said Kegs.

"Yeah! That's what it is! A circus! But it's not the main performance. It's more like an opening number for something bigger. But my guess is that Big dude wanted it to be the main course, not a little skip-tune. The B side of a 45 single."

"I know what you're getting at, but I don't think this number's salvageable."

"Ug-g-g-hh-h! But what can we find in 1955 that's as good as what we grew up with? These times it's Elvis Presley, Frank Sinatra, Gene Kelly, Judy Garland, Donald O' Conner, Buddy Holly, Big Bopper, Ritchie Valens, Eddie Cochran, Chuck Berry, Jackie Wilson, Ray Charles, Donna Summer and the Supremes. . ."

"I think the Supremes were along the same lines as The Beatles." Kegs said.

"Whoa, hold it there a sec." said Itchy. "Who are these people? Are they your people?" he asked.

"No sweety, they're musicians. Most of them are what we call 'rocker's. Buddy Holly considered himself a rocker, Elvis Presley's a rocker, uh Eddie Cochran, Chuck Berry's definitely one. The Big Bopper is a mix of rock and swing, I think. Ritchie Valens is the first Latino Rocker, Ray Charles is rock and blues, Donna Summer and the Supremes are soft rock ballads, I think. Jackie Wilson is pop-rock . . ."

". . . Okay, I didn't understand a single word you just said." Itchy said.

"Music genres. There's your classics: Bach, Handel, Mozart, Tchaikovsky Chopin; then there's your crooners: Bing Crosby, Dean Martin, Perry Como, Burl Ives; then there's jazzers like Cab Calloway, then Swing, then Big Band Swing, Rock is a new thing in this time zone. Then it gets sub-genres; there's soft-rock, classic-rock, rock-ballad, pop-rock, heavy-rock, hard-rock, disco-rock; then its into heavy metal, then hair metal, heavy-heavy metal, scream metal; the whole thing's a big mess." Chug groaned tiredly.

"It sounds like a mess." Flattop said. "Boss, I've been meaning to tell you, Tracy found a warrant on Mumbles about some heist and is demanding that he be brought in."

"Alright, Mumbles can go in and scope out the place. Maybe he'll find a new partner in there, seeing how the other one didn't make it." Kegs said.

Mumbles's old partner had been found in an old run-down hospital and was in such poor condition that he was barely alive and was deathly ill. The old partner turned out to be one of the wild boys he'd raised in Jamaica, who had gone looking for him when his brother and father had succumbed to a tropical disease. Neither Kegs nor Chugs could save him, only prolong his suffering so Mumbles and the boy could get some closure.

"Maybe. Good night, boss." Flattop said and left.

"Night Jones."

.

Dick Tracy was in his office, stirring a can of chili beans, deep in thought. He'd just arrested Mumbles and expected the man to put up a fight, or protest for the invasion of his privacy, but instead he went quietly and willingly. Something wasn't right. He checked the calendar to see when was the last time he'd checked on that partner of his, and decided to make a run in the morning to make sure he was still alive. Another thing he was pondering about was the lack of crime these days. Illegal gambling was practically non-existent nowadays, and the search warrants he'd forge to inspect such suspecting places were all buildings with legitimate businesses. There wasn't a single back-alley gambling sight to be found or busted. Low-ranking crooks were turning themselves in when they found out that some jails were offering free education and college degrees for the duration of their time, and only one or two convicts broke out to escape it. And if that wasn't bad enough, he had yet to find the guy that killed Big Boy and inherited his gang. Big Boy had the biggest collection of top criminals in his gang that it was so much easier to keep an eye on them through that snobby coward via Mumbles. Now Flattop and Itchy were on the loose and he didn't know who controlled them.

"Sam Catchem calling Dick Tracy, come in, Tracy." his radio buzzed in.

"What is it, Sam?"

"We just caught a pick-pocket, but he fell down a sewer pipe while we were chasing him and now he's stuck. Do you mind giving us a hand?" Sam asked.

"On my way." Tracy replied and grabbed his hat. Well, at least there were still some criminals out there to put him out on the streets instead of behind a desk.

.

"Hold tight, mister, we'll get you outta there in no time!" Pat yelled down the pipe. "As soon as Tracy gets his lazy butt down here, that is." he grumbled, which still echoed down the pipe.

"Jallo! I have arrived-did! So, what's the scope, boys?" asked a new voice.

"Look kid, this is police business. So scram." Sam said.

"VLE, Volunteer Law Enforcer. I can help if I want." Chug said and pulled out a large plunger form his pocket and started plunging the sewer hole.

"Stop that! Stop that! What do you think you're doing?!" Sam shouted, wrestling the plunger out of Chugs hands, incidentally pulling out the trapped pick-pocket who gasped for air.

"Thanks a lot, pal." said the crook with a decidedly Brooklyn accent.

"Brooklyn! Why for you fall down the hole?" Chug asked.

"I tripped!" Brooklyn replied defensively. "How'd ya know I was from Brooklyn?" he asked.

"The accent. I love the Brooklyn accent. It often sounds like Jersey, or downtown Los Angeles, but there are subtle differences if one knows where to look." Chug answered, then took his hand and shook it. "I'm Chugs, who are you?" he asked cheerfully.

"Stooge Viller, King of the Pick-Pockets!" he said proudly. "Is it true they're offering free education for the low-ranking crooks in jail?" he asked.

"Yes, but it's not just for low-rankers. Those who wish to finish their education can. Now, off to jail with you. Be a good boy and serve at least half of your time before deciding to try and break out, savvy?" Chug smiled and batted his eyes.

"Yeah, sure thing, pal." Stooge shrugged and walked into the paddy-wagon on his own.

Pat Patton was jaw-slacked at the exchange, while Sam kept his shock more well-contained. Then he turned to Chugs. "How the blazes do you do that?" he asked.

Chug shrugged. "I don't know. I guess the same way monarch butterflies choose milkweeds to lay their eggs, or navigate South for their migration. In other words, I just can." he answered and bid them 'a-buh-bye'.

A few seconds later, just as Sam and Pat locked up the doors to the paddy-wagon (subsequently, Stooge finally figuring out that he'd just willfully given himself up to the cops and indignantly shouted "Hey!") did Tracy's car finally pull up, and he came out gun in hand. "Alright, where's this pick-pocketing crook?" he growled, projecting his "alpha" vibe.

"He's in the paddy-wagon. Someone else lent us a hand, and he had the proper authority to do so." Sam answered. Pat was still in shock at how the easy-friendly talk got one crook to willfully give himself up and serve time before breaking out. Usually any crook they'd apprehend would put up the biggest fuss. Flattop and Itchy were the calmest crooks, although they did occasionally struggle against the arrest. But that was only when the arrest was unwarranted, which was nearly on a daily basis with Tracy.

.

Stooge Viller was led to a cell that had another occupant who was sleazing in the top bunk.

"Hey, man, name's Stooge. I'm your new cellmate." he said casually.

"Mmbles,"

"Huh?"

"Mumbles,"

"Oh, Mumbles. Hey, I heard of you. You were part of Big Boy's gang. Was he really scared of Flattop?" Stooge asked.

"Sortov," [sort of]

"What's the matter? You don't sound too good."

"Iloss mboy," [I lost my boy.]

"Gosh, I'm sorry. I didn't know you . . ."

"No, Ionlyreizdm. Ireizdm anizbrothr. Nowtherall'gn." [No, I only raised him. I raised him and his brother. Now they're all gone.]

"Oh, my condolences. How'd they pass?"

"Therfathrn 'isbrothr succmb'd tatropclsikness. Neki cmserchinf'me, butTrzy founhm firstan forcedme int'BigBoy'sgang tspyonim." [Their father and his brother succumbed to a tropical sickness. Neki came searching for me, but Tracy found him first and forced me into Big Boy's gang to spy on him.]

"Say wha-at? Tracy forced you into Big Boy's gang to spy on Big Boy?" Stooge asked.

"Yeh, 'emademe shootNeki thn'etookim away, nzed 'ewudkillim ifIdint do azhezed." [Yeah, he made me shoot Neki then took him away, and said he was gonna kill him if I didn't do as he said.]

"Tracy made you shoot Neki, took him away and threatened to kill him if you didn't do as he said?"

"Yeah, Bigboyalso forced th'otherz int'izgang. Weall knewewuza cowrd, but'e founout oursecrts nthretnd texposeus ifwedint obeyhim." [Yeah, Big Boy also forced the others into his gang. We all knew he was a coward, but he found out about our secrets and threatened to expose us if we didn't obey him.]

"So, Flattop, Itchy, Pruneface and you were all forced into service by Big Boy?"

Mumbles hummed in the affirmative and said he was going to take a rest, as he was still in mourning over Neki's death.

.

Stooge opted to review his schooling in jail, so he and Mumbles spent four months studying and relearning their basics, and then opted for some electives like economics, and music. Stooge found out that Mumbles was once in a band called the 'Mumbles Quartet' and could play the guitar very well. Stooge could play the harmonica, but it wasn't as good as he'd like. Just a few simple songs like 'Twinkle-Twinkle Little Star' 'Row-Row-Row Your Boat' and 'Jingle Bells'. Even then, it wasn't as elaborate as he'd like. He grew up in Brooklyn, and there were plenty of harmonica players on the streets that he wanted to sound like; Blues. But he couldn't, because he kept choking on his spit.

Mumbles was cheered up a little when their music professor turned out to to be his new Boss and Leader, Chugs. And Chugs was quite the musician; he could play the guitar, the harp-harmonica, the bass, the bass cello, the violin, even a trumpet, just about every instrument except piano. He stated he couldn't play the piano to save his life, however his brother could, and the two of them -along with a few old friends of theirs- put on a little show for the class. They played Buddy Holly's 'Crying, Waiting, Hoping' and 'Oh Boy', the Big Bopper's 'Chantilly Lace', Ritchie Valens's 'La Bamba' and 'Come on, Let's Go'. They went into some music theory and how back in the days of slavery, the slaves composed songs with hidden messages to lead the escaped slaves to safety. Then Chugs surprised everyone that they would be putting on a show at the end of the year, which was part of their grade. They were to perform five songs exactly as they sounded on a record, and their audience would decide their final grade when they do a live performance.

"L-l-l-la live per-perform-m-mance?" Stooge stuttered. "We gotta do a live performance to pass this class?"

"Yeah, it's how I learned music at my school. It's also a way to pay homage to the great performers, and also our favorites."

"So, what are your favorites?" asked one of the other students.

"Oh, I've got way too many to choose from, and from nearly every genre. From the classics, I love the 'Hungarian Dance' piece by Johannes Brahms, I call it the Gypsy song; the major theme from 'Swan Lake' by Tchaikovsky; uh, 'Dance in the Hall of Hours', I call it the Ostrich Dance because of Fantasia; and uh, 'In the Hall of the Mountain King' and 'A Night on Bald Mountain'."

"I don't know those songs." said another student, a few students agreeing.

"You guys probably only know the tunes, but not the name. Okay, those who know these songs title stand over here, and those who know the tunes but not the titles over there." Chugs said; only three of the students went over to the side that knew the tunes their professor was talking about. "Mumbles, you know the Hungarian Dance?" Mumbles nodded, and Chug whipped out his own guitar. "Okay, let's play them a few tunes, shall we?" he smiled.

A few notes in, and already half of the class recognized the tune. Then Chug slid a tin whistle out from his vest pocket and played 'Swan Lake', and again some of the class members knew the tune. One declared, "That's Count Dracula's theme!" Then 'Dance In the Hall of Hours' was played, only a handful of the class recognized it. 'Hall of the Mountain King' was instantly recognized by almost the entire class, and 'A Night on Bald Mountain' was recognized by those who were more on the faux-goth darker side of things, but the recognition was mainly due to most of them having watched Disney's 'Fantasia' in the movie theaters.

~*~End of Class~*~

"AAU-U-GH! I really wish I could conduct Bohemian Rhapsody!" Chug pouted, throwing a tantrum on his bed. "These people have the right harmony to do so! Do you know how hard that is to find among Terrans in the FUTURE?! They're practically nonexistent! They all use auto-voice corrections and synthesizers! Stephen Hawking can get away with using those items in 'Epic Rap Battle of History', but anyone else who use it suck-sippy-cups! They all carry the same tune in the chorus, it's boring! But the people of these times, they're all the real deal! They put in actual hard work and rip their throats to pieces with all the belting they do. Frankie can do it, Bing Crosby can do it, Judy is fantastic at belting out her lungs. Bro, Jimmy Durante and Louis Armstrong are by-far better singers than Miley Cyrus, or Justin Bieber." he huffed, then buried his face in his pillow and cried, "It's not fair!"

"I know, I know, but we cannot break any more Time Laws. Number One will revoke our traveling privileges if we do. Which would mean no more parties with Peter Lorre and Sydney Greenstreet." Kegs said.

Chug mumbled incoherently in his pillow, then kicked his feet in another tantrum.

"Don't be such a baby. You can always grow more." Kegs replied.

"I am growing more, but they don't grow fast enough! That's why they cost more!" Chug pouted.

"Oh, look on the bright side, tonight's your first night with Itchy." Kegs smiled.

"What?" squeaked Itchy.

"Nothing too intimate, mind you, and don't sneak anything. I'll be lending him my PJ's." Kegs continued, ignoring Itchy.

"Whoa-whoa-whoa, Boss, Boss," Itchy called in a slight panic. "What are you talking about, my first night with him? Where you going?"

"I've a little business to do in another state, my idiotic father just tried to break into my casino building again." Kegs growled.

"But Kegs, he owns it in this time, why are you gonna go pick a fight now?" Chugs asked.

"Because I also need to have a talk with my grandfather. I'll see you in a couple of weeks." Kegs said, picking up his traveling bags.

"Boss, my daughter's birthday's coming up so I won't be able to watch him." said Flattop, stopping Kegs in his tracks.

"Oh, I completely forgot, here's a cashier's check for her presents." Kegs put his bags down and thought for a moment. "Bail Mumbles out tomorrow, and if he's picked a partner, bail him out too. They'll be Chug's bodyguards on my payroll until I return."

"You got it, Boss. Good night Itchy." Flattop smirked.

"Flattop? Flattop, where are you going?" Itchy asked, clamoring out of bed to try and stop him, but they'd already closed the door.

"Look, don't worry about anything. I'm not gonna take advantage of you." Chugs said. "I just can't sleep by myself. Kegs and I have always shared a bed together ever since we were infants. He lent you his clothes because they have his scent, so I can fool myself in thinking that he's near with his scent. That, and I think you'd look very sexy in slim-fitting clothes. You and my brother have the same sizes in everything but height. You're taller by a mere three inches. So, do you mind modeling for me? I need some shots of his new coat."

.

(WO-OLF-WHISTLE!) "Yowza! Show me some love, baby! Twirl those tails! Give me that Native Glare! Give me that menacing look. Yes, ju are a cougar stalking your prey. Ju have zat killer look in your eyes. Yes, yes, yes! No! No! No!" Chug growled, flashing his camera left and right, until the shutter started wigging out and making buzzing noises. "And it's spent." he said in his more normal tones, tossing the camera over his head for someone else to catch then walked up to Itchy. "You really do look good in this coat. I think I'll make you your own, and a stetson. Maybe just a whole new wardrobe with non-itchy fabric, and shoes more suitable for walking. Get you some contacts, some transitional glasses, summer clothes, winter clothes, traveling clothes, a few subtle accessories-"

"I am not your personal mannequin, or your . . . partner. Why are you playing dress-up with me?" Itchy asked.

"I told you, I needed some shots of my brother's coat. And the rest is because I want to, and you don't have to pay a dime for any of it. Plus, I may just let you keep a few gems, if any are added to any outfits. Plus, -"

"Will you please just stop talking and continue with your work?" Itchy asked, a barely visible pink tinge on his cheeks at the compliments and pampering.

"Alrighty, we're done with this coat. Now, let's try on the blue trench, see how that looks." Chugs smiled, picking up a new camera.

.

Three hours later after a seven hour photo-session, Chug and Itchy returned to their hotel room completely exhausted. Itchy from being under florescent lights and standing nearly nonstop, getting only a thirty-minute lunch break, and Chug from ducking, bending over, crouching, keeping only one eye open, making decisions, and stood just as long as Itchy, getting the same thirty-minute lunch break.

"Ugh, my feet are killing me." Itchy groaned, kicking off his new pump sneakers. He had to switch shoes because the last half hour he'd been wearing hard-soled pirate boots for a costume screen shot. His feet were so sore that he couldn't take one more step. Chug lent him the new shoes when they finished the shooting, but it was barely enough to get Itchy to the car.

"Give me a few minutes, and I'll make you a foot bath." Chug said.

"I want a whole bath, if you don't mind. I'm so tired, I don't even have the energy to scratch myself." Itchy said.

"Okay. I'll come in later and wash your back." Chug said, rolling over to get up and start said bath.

"How can you walk when you've been on your feet for as long as I have?" Itchy asked.

"I'm used to it." Chug answered from the bathroom.

Itchy took a deep breath, then rolled over to the phone to order up some dinner to be sent up in an hour. Mumbles and his new partner would be coming up the next day once Flattop bailed them out. So, tonight it was just going to be him and Chugs. When Chugs said the bath was ready, Itchy was surprised to find that his bath water was a rich emerald green.

"Why is the water green?" he asked.

"It's my anti-itch solution. The only side-effect I've been able to record so far is that the color dyes your skin the same color, but otherwise, it works like a charm." Chugs answered.

"You mean I'm gonna have to walk around with green skin permanently?" Itchy asked aghast.

"No, just for a week, and then it peels right off like a snake's skin." Chugs smiled. "But all of my clients who've tried this solution say they've been cured of their itchiness for about four months before they needed another dose. I just can't figure out the correct dosage for a complete cure."

Itchy was speechless. "So, I'll be temporarily cured if I bathe in this stuff?" he asked.

Chugs nodded, still smiling.

"And you're not smiling because you pulling my leg, are you? You just like to smile?" he asked, wanting to be sure.

Chugs nodded again. "I'm a total professional when it comes to my patients. I'll come back in ten minutes to saturate your back with this stuff, then when the hour's up, I'll have Kegs's PJ's waiting for you on the counter." he said and left the bathroom.

Chugs did as promised with his back, and also left some anti-itch scalp treatment that wouldn't dye his head green for his shower once he was done with the bath. And when Itchy tried on the PJ's left for him, he nearly melted right into the fabric. The hair products left his head feeling cool, the dye from the bath left his skin feeling cool, and the smoothness of the PJ's kept the coolness at the right temperature so he wouldn't get cold from the coolness. Not even his dinner increased his body heat, neither did the heavy blankets, or when Chugs cuddled up close to him, his body temperature remained at that perfectly cooled level. Chugs had his head resting directly over Itchy's heart, and he had his left arm over Itchy's abdomen; while Itchy was lying on his back. And with the way Chugs positioned himself, Itchy had placed his left arm around Chugs's waist in order to sleep comfortably, otherwise he would wake up with a "missing" arm.

.

Flattop found them cuddling up and he couldn't help but snap a picture of them, waking them up with the loud shutter. He quickly removed the instant print before preparing for another shot.

"Flattop!" Itchy cried out, feeling scandalized as another flash went off.

"Well, now I know why the Boss left a camera at my house." Flattop smirked, taking the second Polaroid print from the camera and shook the two prints.

"Nothing happened! He-he just can't sleep without-without-with-without uh, . . ." Itchy stammered, blushing furiously in embarrassment.

"I know about his sleeping condition. The Boss told me about it, but he also left me this note and the camera at my house yesterday, so I was only following his instructions. Now, I'm off to bail out Mumbles, and possibly his new partner. See you two love-birds later!" Flattop grinned, placing the camera and the note on the desk before leaving to pick up Mumbles and his new partner.

Itchy pouted for a few minutes before getting up to make and reading the note Flattop left behind.

'Jones,

Before you pick up Mumbles, take this camera over to Chugs's room and snap a couple of shots for me before they wake up. ;) Hold onto the pictures, but leave the camera.

-Kegs

'How the blazes did he know to write that?' Itchy thought irritably, crumpling the note.

Chugs woke up not long afterwards, his cuddling-buddy having left the bed for too long. "Mornin'," he yawned, then stretched. He sleepily made his way to the bathroom, did his bathroom business, then sleepily stumbled out of the room to have breakfast.

.

Itchy came down a moment later, still somewhat upset about Flattop's unexpected visit, but since he was instructed to do so by the Big Boss, he decided to just sweep it under the rug. In all the months he's worked under these brothers, they've never done anything to humiliate either he or Flattop for kicks just yet, so that picture had to have some kind of purpose to it. When he reached the breakfast area he found Chugs snoozing with his head in his left hand while the right hand held a spoon that was sitting in a cereal bowl that was filled with soggy cereal. He gently nudged him on the shoulder, "Chugs,"

"Roun'han' means roun'hand, notchikn scrtch," Chugs mumbled.

"Chugs, you're in the middle of the breakfast area with soggy cereal and in your pajamas." Itchy said, shaking him a little more firmly.

Chugs groaned, batting Itchy's hand away, pushed the cereal away, folded his arms on the table and buried his head.

"Chugs, wake up. You've got a busy day, and you're gonna be late doing them if you don't wake up." Itchy said, lifting Chugs out of his chair and guided him back to the room. "You've got that photo session in the woods, then you've got to head to the grocers for tonight's dinner at the Club Ritz, then you've got to check on the renovations, see to Mumbles's health, and all sorts of other stuff for the day."

.

Mumbles and Stooge arrived at the room just as Itchy steered a still sleepy Chugs out of the elevator doors then down the hall. Chugs was a slithering drifter when he was half asleep. He was swerving all over the floor like a panicked driver. Itchy had accidentally spun them around a few times whenever he righted Chugs that he just opted to carry the smaller guy over his shoulder back to the room.

"Have fun?" Flattop smirked.

"He's still asleep. I had to lift him out of the chair down stairs and steer him back up here. It's not easy." Itchy said, glaring at Flattop.

"You have the key so I couldn't get in." Flattop said, digging through Itchy's pockets for the key.

"I haven't got it. Chugs does. And I am not going through those pockets of his again. This hallway isn't big enough for a horse." Itchy said, placing Chugs against the wall to shake him awake. "Where's the room key?" he asked.

Chugs searched his person, patted his chest and pulled out a master key card and rolled over on his side, thinking the wall was a bed.

Itchy inserted the key card and turned the knob when the green lights flashed, dragged the still sleeping Chugs in and tossed him on the bed before plopping down next to him.

"You're heavy, you know that?"

.

Later in the day when Chug had his rest, he sat Itchy down in a doctor's chair and proceeded to give him an eye exam. He learned that Itchy's glasses were nearly expired and he would need a new one soon, which Itchy took as his eye-sight was getting worse. Luckily for him, Chugs knew exactly what was wrong with his eyes and said he could brew a concoction to heal them gradually.

"In the mean-time, you're gonna have to settle for either contacts or new glasses. I have some transitional glasses that you can look at once you've picked a new pair of frames." Chugs said.

"What are transitional glasses?" Itchy asked. "And I'd like some contacts." he added.

"Transitional glasses are kinda like a regular pair of glasses, except that when you step into the sun, the lenses change into sun-glasses. So you'd be getting a pair of glasses and a pair of sun-glasses all rolled into one." Chugs answered.

Itchy thought for a moment. "So, they change from clear to dark?" he questioned.

"Yeah, hence the term transition." Chugs smiled coyly. :3

"I'll believe that when I see it, and only then will I decide if I want one." Itchy said and was allowed to get up from the chair.

23 glasses later . . .

"I want all of these!" Itchy said, feeling giddy at being spoiled before he composed himself.

"Ring 'em up, darling, time is money and my accountant says I need to spend more." Chugs said, counting hundred dollar bills in quick session before placing them down on the counter. "Now, anything else you want? We've got a whole day ahead of us." Chugs said, leaving a generous tip for the cashier's patience.

"I'd say a Rolls-Royce, but that's not really my taste. And you can't afford any time to travel around the world to go on a shopping spree, we had that large breakfast, plus you've got to build your bank with that Bait Vault you mentioned, you've gotta get Stooge his new fittings-"

"Uh-uh, Stooge is under my brother's wings. Kegs hired him and Mumbles to be my bodyguards, so they're on his pay-roll." Chugs corrected.

"Oh yeah, that's right. Uh, you've got to finish that necklace for the Duchess, and you've got your teaching duties at the prison, the running of the Club Ritz, your cooking shows, that Christmas Pageant you're holding at the South-side Orphanage, and I think a few birthday parties this week. You're booked honey." Itchy said.

"I know, and still my accountant doesn't think that's not enough money for me to spend. The bank building alone wouldn't deter him." Chugs sighed and leaned against the counter of the shocked cashier. "Here," Chugs said, dumping a mountain of a pile of cash in front of the cashier.

"How 'bout a library? You know, with segregation going on, and the poorer people needing a place to study for their own educations." Itchy suggested.

"Yeah, I could do tha-what do you mean the poorer people?" Chugs asked.

"Oh, we've got a run-down neighborhood that used to be the pride and joy of this city, before Tracy joined the law force. It used to have this really nice park with a turtle and fishing pond that fed a small stream to another small pond that housed frogs and toads. There was a big oak tree between the ponds and a few cherry trees scattered at every corner. Some flower bushes that was a pollination haven for bumble bees, honey bees, wasps and butterflies. Sometimes we'd get ducks and geese stopping by before their winter migration. Oh! There was a small wooden arc bridge over the stream that I liked, but it was all torn down."

"Hmm, a restoration project like could cost me a couple mil at the very least." Chug said, rubbing his hands together. "'nuff said, that's going to be my next project. Let's go." Chugs said and zipped Itchy out of the glasses store, tossed him into the car and drove off to find this park.

.

The park was in far worse condition than Itchy remembered. It was completely overgrown with weeds, the ponds and stream were dry, the big oak tree was just a stump, and the cherry trees were nowhere in sight. Itchy took him through of what he could remember of the park, pointing out where the cherry trees used to be, the wooden arc bridge and which pond housed the frogs and toads, and fish and turtles, and the flower bushes.

"I am going to turn this park into the most romantic park ever, and bring it back to his former glory!" Chugs vowed, stomping his foot into the ground for emphasis. "Now, the first thing I'm gonna have to do is . . . set up cameras to take pictures of the whole park." he said.

"No, the first thing you're gonna have to do is buy the land so Tracy doesn't haggle you for "destroying" public property." Itchy corrected.

"You're right. Let's head to City Hall and see what kind of lands I can buy and restore and tell that idjit to stuff my grounds in his canned beans and eat it!" Chugs growled and dragged Itchy off to the car.

.

City Hall, 20 pieces of land and thousands of paperwork later . . .

"WHOO! Down another half a vault, baby! Yeah! Here you go. Have a lovely day, dahling, Ciao!" cheered Chugs and handed the pen back to the stunned governor, linked arms with Itchy and practically danced out of the office.

"Ho-ly cow! You've got to be the biggest land owner in all of New York now. You even bought the South-side harbor!" Itchy said, stunned at how effortlessly Chugs had bought twenty pieces of land.

"Hey, I could even buy up Coney Island, but then I'd want to remodel the rides and close the park for a total renovation, but on the other hand I love the classics. Speaking of classics, how about a movie? Or maybe we could go and visit ol' Petey and Sydney. Oh no, I can't, I've got to f-mmph!"

"Stop talking about shoulda-woulda-couldas, and start explaining your plans on restoring that beautiful park I grew up with." Itchy said, and removed his hand when Chugs nodded.

"So, after planting cameras and sending in scouts to scope out the place, the first thing I'm gonna have to do is clear the weeds and churn the soil to get to their lower roots. Then build up the micro-world to churn the ground and get the soil more rich for flower and tree growth. Then I've got to figure out where I can find fresh water to fill up the ponds and the stream; or maybe just have the two ponds connected by the stream, and put in some filters to get the water circulation going, maybe build in a small waterfall somewhere in there. Get some fresh water fish, turtles, frogs and toads. Find the right type of wood for that lovely little bridge you mentioned - oh, this is going to keep me up all night. Be sure to drag me off to bed for some rest for tomorrow, even if it's just a four hour sleep. I can work on f-mmph!"

"You're brother would kill me if I didn't take proper care of you. You're getting a full eight hours as soon as we get home." Itchy said and dragged Chugs back to the car and took the driver's side. Chug prevented him from closing the door, however by standing in its way.

"Do you have your driver's license?" he asked casually.

"No," Itchy replied just as casually. Then got his second surprise of the day when Chug fished out a regular-sized switch-blade pocket knife, switched it out to a giant spatula and scooted him over to the passenger's side with said spatula and then took the driver's seat.

"The first thing we gotta do tomorrow is get you your driver's license." Chugs said in a no-nonsense tone and started the car. "I'd have Kegs teach you, but he's a road maniac and he might scare you to death with his driving."

.

"I don't see why I have to take a test to obtain my license. I already know how to drive." Itchy grumbled. "I already even know the traffic laws. Stop for ten seconds at a stop sign; look both ways at every intersection; stop at a red light, pfft!"

"But think of all the legal trouble you'll be able to put Tracy through if he catches you obeying the law for once." grinned Chugs. "Now, what's the speed limit in a school zone when school's in session?" he asked.

"Fifteen miles per hour." Itchy answered.

"Residential zones?" Chug asked.

"Uh, twenty?" Itchy questioned.

"Twenty-five." Chugs corrected. "Now, if you hear a siren?"

"You pull over to the side to let the emergency vehicle through." Itchy answered. "No parking in the red zones, no parking in loading zones."

"What's the difference between those two zones?" Chugs asked.

"Red zones is for Emergency vehicles like an Ambulance, or a fire truck. A Loading zone is a patch of yellow stripes running diagonally from the sidewalk." Itchy answered.

"White stripes are for what?" Chugs asked.

"Pedestrian Walking."

"A Three-way stop sign?"

"First come, first serve."

"Elk warning signs?"

"Elk crossing. Same for any other animal."

"Spot on. Keep up the studies and you should be able to pass the written exam." Chugs said and parked into a spot at the Department for Motor Vehicles and shut off the engine.

"Can't you just bribe the guy for the license?" Itchy asked.

"No, this is one of those things where your earnings come in. And if I were to bribe the instructor, it would be on not being a first rate a-hole. Believe me, there are corrupt people in places like this as well. They tend to let the power go to their head and will make a student fail deliberately because they're having a bad day or some such. But this is only the written test, so just relax, and keep you mistakes down to two max." Chugs said.

"Don't you mean 'at the very least'?" Itchy asked.

"No, three strikes and then you'd have to wait a whole year to take the next one." Chugs answered. "If you can pass this test, I'll get you some custom made Italian leather shoes and a top name brand suit and a Rolex watch. Sound good?" Chugs asked.

"An Armani suit?" Itchy questioned.

"Sure, and some lunch cuz I'm starving." Chugs smiled and they entered the DMV building.

.

Meanwhile with Kegs and Flattop . . .

Kegs and Flattop were out by the ruined park to take the necessary pictures Chugs wanted for his restoration project. He'd hired a chopper and sent Numbers up into the air to take some aerial pictures. The task didn't take too long, and when they were finished, Kegs had asked if any of his men had a driver's license and set the ones that didn't to study up on traffic laws. Those that did have their license he offered to buy their own car. Flattop already had his own car, so he was dismissed to check up on the renovations of the Club Ritz.

"You're seriously gonna get me my own car?" Stooge asked.

"If only to drive that yellow-belly crazy, then yes. But that doesn't mean you can speed all over the place, you'd need a different license for that and a legitimate cause for doing so. Getaway driving not withstanding." he said in a no nonsense tone, getting words of protest from the other boys. "No 'buts'," he commanded. "If any crime is going to be committed, then it'll be a legal crime, like highway robbery."

"Highway robbery? Nobody does anymore highway robberies." Stooge said.

"You've never heard of road-side services?" Kegs questioned.

"Nope, nobody in this over-crowded town knows anything about mechanics." Numbers said.

"Then where do you people take your cars to get fixed?" Kegs asked.

"The car shop, of course." Stooge answered.

"A car shop is a mechanic's place. A car is a machine, after all." Kegs stated. He hailed a taxi down for Numbers and sent him back to the Smetherly Hotel to deliver the cameras for Chug's restoration project then he was allowed to retire for the day. Then Kegs took Stooge and Mumbles to a car dealership for Stooge to pick out his own car, while quizzing Mumbles about traffic laws for the written exam.

.

Back with Chug and Itchy . . .

Itchy had finished his exam and was nervously waiting for the results. Chugs had promised him custom made Italian leather shoes, an Armani suit and a Rolex watch if he passed, which he was hoping he had. He began scratching his left wrist in anticipation, which then led to his arm, then further up his arm, then his shoulder. His left hand went up to scratch his neck as his nervousness grew.

Chugs, noticing the scratching, grabbed hold of Itchy's hands. "Calm down, I'm sure you did very well. Just take a deep breath, and let it out slowly." he said. "Do you suffer from restless hands?" he asked.

"I don't think so. Unless it's how it sounds?" Itchy questioned. Chugs hummed in the affirmative. "Then I guess I do." Itchy sighed with a small shrug.

"Well, that I can cure easily." Chugs said and brought out a deck of cards. "Fancy a game of Crazy Eight?" he asked, shuffling the cards.

"You know a game of Speed?" Itchy asked, positioning his seat directly opposite from Chugs.

"Ooh! I love that game!" Chugs grinned and divvied up the cards proper. They played five rounds before the tests came back. Itchy had passed his test and was then escorted to the driving range, where'd he'd passed after three perfect rounds. Then a quick photo and some paper work later and he had his license. Then they left to get a late lunch. Itchy would have to wait until the next day for his shopping, as most of the stores were near closing time. Besides, Chugs was expecting the photos of the park to arrive, so he had to wait for his new suits and custom made shoes. The watch he was hoping re-negotiate about getting one that was the same as Chugs's.

.

1956

The Club Ritz had re-opened its doors as a public domain of dinner and entertainment four months ago. At first the pay was slow that the brothers still had to pay for their utility bills, and hire their old school mates for the live performances that were promised before they put out an audition advertisement for amateurs. Some were good, some were a little eh, and others were just horrible. Chugs tended to the horrible ones as Kegs was somewhat known to be vicious when a performance went bad. The ones that were accepted but had no place to stay were taken up to the newly renovated hostel up in the attic. There were beds, a work area and separate bath and toilet for the boys and girls. The Club got some good ratings for the food though. And tonight was going to be Chugs first live cooking performance, as the Mayor and his wife were going to attend. Right now, the brothers, Flattop and Itchy were in the meeting room discussing that night's menu for their guests.

"I'm a little concerned about tonight's performance." said Chugs as he nervously rubbed his hands together.

"You've done this a thousand times, you'll be okay." said Kegs.

"No, I mean about that Tracy dude. I have a feeling something's gonna happen tonight concerning him." Chugs said and whipped out a catalog about evening dresses and began scanning through them.

"He has good reason to feel anxious, Boss. Tracy's known to show up at any performance with a phony search warrant in order to keep up his 'Super Cop' persona." Flattop said.

"You think the Mayor's wife likes pink diamonds?" Chugs asked off-hand.

"She's a brunette." Itchy said.

.

Itchy and Flattop were off in a secluded area where they could easily come to Chugs defenses if necessary but remain unseen by any new patrons. Chugs was in the middle of preparing a goose Flambe dish for the Mayor and his wife and had barely set the dish aflame when Tracy stormed in and ruined the nearly finished dish by splashing a whole pitcher of water on it, and inadvertently the mayor's wife. Chugs protested at the rudeness before being handcuffed. Itchy nearly got up to defend him, but Flattop held him back.

"What is the meaning of this?!" the Mayor shouted, affronted at the sudden attack on his wife - accident or not.

"Just doing my duty. This place is a gambling club, and I have a search warrant to search the premises." said Tracy and handed the Mayor a paper. "Alright boys, search the place." he said, taking a good look around the club for any familiar faces. He was still searching for Flattop and Itchy, and was hoping to spot them at the Club. Before Mumbles was inherited by the new Big Boss (whom he still didn't know the identity of), Tracy learned that Big Boy had planned on taking over Lips Manlis's territory and properties for his own agenda, and the Club Ritz used to belong to Lips Manlis, hence his presence.

"This warrant is invalid and a phony! Guards!" snarled the Mayor as he crumple the paper and threw it down. "You have ruined my dinner and my wife's gown. Now explain yourself!" the Mayor demanded as his guards surrounded Tracy.

The Mayor knowing the difference between a real warrant and a fake warrant caught the two former crooks by surprise.

Having been caught red-handed with his fake warrant, Tracy tried another tactic. "Fire hazard. This man was performing a dangerous fire act, and is clearly an arsonist." he said, going for intimidation.

"Fire hazard iss! I've been performing live cook shows for years!" Chugs said indignantly, feeling very insulted about his performance, before relaxing. "As for the arsonist thing, what youngling doesn't arse around these days?" he smirked, getting a good chuckle from the diners.

"Oh yeah? Prove it." Tracy dared.

"Fine, but you're paying for these people's dinner as a result. I do have orders to complete." Chugs pouted. "Dinner orders, that is." he quickly added then called in a fire squad. Once they arrived, a free tour for Tracy, the Fire squad, and the Mayor commenced for the entire building about fire safety. When it was finished, Tracy looked very put out. Then immediately accused Chugs about being too young to cook, and when that failed, he quickly accused Chugs of handling food without a license which Chugs produced (magically freeing his hands), along with graduate certificates in performing arts, and a knife handling license. Soon the diners were demanding Tracy's leave so they could eat. A few had threatened to sue him for disturbing the show, and a few more threatened to complain to the DA about the false arrest and false search warrant.

"Dick Tracy, as Mayor, I charge you with Assault on my wife, Disturbing the Peace of a public domain, False Arrest, False Accusation and searching without a warrant! Now leave!" the Mayor demanded.

Disgraced and humiliated, Tracy left with a scowl on his face, causing the audience to applause in gratitude.

"Nicely handled, Mr. Mayor." Chugs said. "I am sorry for your ruined dinner, and my condolences Mrs. Mayor on your exquisite evening gown." Chugs said, putting that sympathy face of his that easily won people over, before perking up. "However, luckily I keep a 'shpare'." he grinned and whipped out a new completed Flambe dish and a new dark brown, silk-lined, velvet strapless evening gown with white intricate lacing across the chest for the Mayor's wife to change into, complete with a set of citrine earrings, ring, bracelet and necklace to go with her new dress.

Then he lit the Flambe dish as she went to change. Everyone else's dinners were soon sent out with waiters on roller skates, which got the crowd cheering and leaving huge tips in gratitude.

"He handled that nicely." said Flattop.

"Yeah, but how did he know to bring that new dress for the Mayor's wife? Let alone the already finished dinner?" Itchy asked.

"Who knows? He did have them in his pockets." Flattop said, digging into his dinner.

"Speaking of pockets, what do you suppose happened to that horse?" Itchy asked, also digging into his dinner.

Outside the Club Ritz . . .

*clip-clop, clip-clop, clip-clip; snor-r-t*

THE END