Author Jay Dubya's Holiday Hooligans is an FBI Inspector Joe Giralo short story, with 26 other J. G. stories already published in the book The FBI Inspector. The Holiday Hooligans story exists in Jay Dubya's latest ebook, Thirteen Tantalizing Tales.
Kindle eBook: Thirteen Tantalizing Tales
Hardcover/Paperback editions available in January of 2020
Story: Holiday Hooligans
By
Jay Dubya
Other Books by Jay Dubya
Pieces of Eight
Pieces of Eight, Part II
Pieces of Eight, Part III
Pieces of Eight, Part IV
Nine New Novellas
Nine New Novellas, Part II
Nine New Novellas, Part III
Nine New Novellas, Part IV
Black Leather and Blue Denim, A ‘50s Novel
The Great Teen Fruit War, A 1960 Novel
Frat’ Brats, A ‘60s Novel
Ron Coyote, Man of La Mangia
So Ya’ Wanna’ Be A Teacher!
The Wholly Book of Genesis
The Wholly Book of Exodus
The Wholly Book of Doo-Doo-Rot-on-Me
Mauled Maimed Mangled Mutilated Mythology
Fractured Frazzled Folk Fables and Fairy Farces
Fractured Frazzled Folk Fables and Fairy Farces, Part II
Thirteen Sick Tasteless Classics
Thirteen Sick Tasteless Classics, Part II
Thirteen Sick Tasteless Classics, Part III
Thirteen Sick Tasteless Classics, Part IV
Thirteen Sick Tasteless Classics, Part V
RAM: Random Articles and Manuscripts
One Baker’s Dozen
Two Baker’s Dozen
Time Travel Tales
UFO: Utterly Fantastic Occurrences
Shakespeare: Slammed, Smeared, Savaged and Slaughtered
Shakespeare: S, S, S, and S, Part II
Snake Eyes and Boxcars
Snake Eyes and Boxcars, Part II
Suite 16
O. Henry: Obscenely and Outrageously Obliterated
Twain: Tattered, Trounced, Tortured and Traumatized
Poe: Pelted, Pounded, Pummeled and Pulverized
London: Lashed, Lacerated, Lampooned and Lambasted
Hawthorne: Hazed Hooked Hammered and Hijacked
Hawthorne Hacked, Shakespeare Sacked & Thurber Thwacked
THEMES
The FBI Inspector
Modern Mythology
First Person Stories
PLOTS
Prime-Time Crime Time
The Psychic Dimension, Part II
Young Adult Fantasy Novels
Enchanta
Space Bugs, Earth Invasion
Pot of Gold
The Eighteen Story Gingerbread House
Introduction
Thirteen Tantalizing Tales is author Jay Dubya’s twenty-third story collection. Other fiction and non-fiction short story books produced by this prolific author are The Psychic Dimension, The Psychic Dimension Part II, First Person Stories, The FBI Inspector, Modern Mythology, Prime-Time Crime Time, UFO: Utterly Fantastic Occurrences, Snake Eyes and Boxcars, Snake Eyes and Boxcars Part II, Time Travel Tales, Suite 16, One Baker’s Dozen, Two Baker’s Dozen, RAM: Random Articles and Manuscripts, Pieces of Eight, Pieces of Eight Part II, Pieces of Eight Part III, Pieces of Eight Part IV, Nine New Novellas, Nine New Novellas Part II, Nine New Novellas Part III and Nine New Novellas Part IV.
“Holiday Hooligans”
The very interesting English word “Holiday” originally pertained to the specific nomenclature “Holy Day” before secularism became the watchword/monitor of modern times. Before School Winter Break, before School Spring Break and before Love/Chocolate Gift Day ever existed, religious celebrations of Christmas, of Easter and of St. Valentine Day were revered Christian “Holy Days” appearing on the yearly calendar.
Chief FBI Inspector Joe Giralo still remains one of those old-fashioned advocates of tradition who wishes that Christmas (and not X-mas) would continue to be a tribute about the birth of Christ and that Easter would not exclusively be about the particular activities of the ever-ubiquitous, egg-distributing, basket-carrying, harebrained, totally juvenile “Holiday Bunny”.
At noon on Monday, December 9, 2019 a rather fatigued FBI Inspector Joe Giralo had summoned his three principal agents, Salvatore Velardi, Arthur Orsi and Dan Blachford into his eighth-floor office situated inside the all-too-familiar 600 Arch Street Federal Building, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. As usual, the curious entrants found their illustrious superior sitting rather stationary behind his massive Canadian oak desk with his brown eyes seemingly transfixed, their superior’s large pupils scanning the Philadelphia Inquirer''s “above the crease” morning headlines. The veteran crime-fighter’s ever-vigilant mind was apparently keenly engrossed in much more serious illegal matters than those trivial news'' stories, which his always-alert cerebral processes were then intensely evaluating. Finally, the Boss recognized the presence of his three loyal underlings.
“Greetings Men!” the Chief nonchalantly acknowledged, lowering the slightly wrinkled newspaper below eye level. “Glad you three somewhat-experienced sleuths were performing your regular duties in the building when my secretary had summoned you’ illustrious dynamos from your cramped cubicles. We''ve got some important business to attend to, but first of all,” Inspector Giralo predictably deviated, “I want to know how you men had spent the recent Pearl Harbor Day weekend. It’s too bad that December 7th isn’t declared a national holiday. Now tell me: what did you do Sal?”
“Well Chief, I took my wife and kids to New York where we enjoyed seeing the terrific Christmas Show at Radio City Music Hall,” Agent Velardi disclosed. “Kathy really was impressed with the Rockettes'' fantastic performance, and the kids really relished the ‘March of the Toy Soldiers’.”
“And how about you, Arty. How did you and Carol spend Saturday, Pearl Harbor Day.”
“Well Chief, my wife and I drove east to Smithville Village, which was well-decorated for the Christmas season,” Agent Orsi revealed. “We ate a delicious lunch at the historic Smithville Inn, perused the many gift shops in the quaint village and then anxiously motored over to Harrah’s Casino to try our luck in Atlantic City. I lost a hundred bucks playing blackjack, but Carol got lucky on the slots and canceled-out my losses. In all, our Atlantic City gambol to gamble was not especially lucrative, but we did have fun!”
“And Dan, what did you and Bing do on Saturday?” Inspector Giralo inquired as if the master detective were conducting a rather important criminal interrogation.
“My wife and I took a really fascinating South Jersey steam locomotive train ride on the ‘Santa Express’, which is a seasonal branch of the area Cape May Seashore Line,” Agent Blachford suavely articulated. “The unique trip was a fifteen-mile fun excursion from Richland to Tuckahoe. Of course, Santa was a mobile passenger on the slow-moving train, and his presence was enjoyed by the many children who had been escorted by their doting parents. And also,” Dan Blachford elaborated, “jolly St. Nicholas was accompanied by a host of Dickens-dressed Victorian carolers, and to add to the pre-winter experience, soft background music was provided by a talented accordion player. We savored the scenic ride back to the Richland boarding station; in fact, just as much as we delighted in taking the parallel rails out to Tuckahoe.”
“Well Boss, now that you know what we did over the Pearl Harbor weekend,” Agent Velardi piped-up, “exactly what sort of caper did you do? Go flying around in a Japanese Zero?”
“If you really want to know, Salvatore,” a slightly annoyed Inspector Giralo answered in a feigned, gruff tone of voice, “Gina and I did some preliminary Christmas shopping at the Deptford Mall. Afterwards, my exhausted wife and I consumed a sumptuous filet dinner at the nearby Longhorn Steakhouse.”
Sensing that the time for cursory small-talk chatter had expired, Agent Sal Velardi requested to learn about the real reason the three FBI men had been asked to report to the Inspector’s spacious office. Joe Giralo reached into the top drawer of his desk and his search produced a commonplace oak-tag folder similar to ones in which school children keep their graded English writing compositions.
“Guys, this is perhaps the most bizarre, eccentric, nonsensical case that I’ve ever been assigned to investigate,” Giralo prefaced. “Our ingenious mentor Matt Riley down at D.C. headquarters dispatched an encrypted communique just two hours ago and requested that my team attempt to decipher exactly what is going on.”
The Chief quickly distributed copies of the newly transmitted information to his trio of assistants, who then diligently studied the strange contents while their boss provided additional input. “Now Men, these rather insane activities I’m about to describe occur on standard United States holidays. Five nutcases will enter a privately-owned family convenience store,” Giralo communicated, “and the queer quintet would be dressed in costumes appropriately related to the particular holiday being celebrated. The five customers would then point their water pistols at the clerk or proprietor behind the counter, and instead of robbing the establishment in question, the five would hand-over a thousand dollars in crisp, unmarked hundred-dollar-bills and then exit the premises and speed-off inside a six passenger van.”
“This is some sort of weird crimewave happening in reverse,” an intrigued Agent Arthur Orsi noted. “Instead of performing an armed heist with real guns, the tricky intruders use harmless water pistols and then philanthropically give the dumbfounded owner or clerk a bonanza of a thousand smackers.”
“Right Arty,” Chief Giralo affirmed. “I suspect that the ruse is more pernicious than it appears on the simplistic surface. Now Salvatore, I’d like you to read the first three crazy incidents that are described on the printout-sheet I’ve just disseminated.”
“New Year’s Day, Tuesday, January 1st, 2019. Five individuals gaudily dressed as mummers enter a Philadelphia deli and hand-over a thousand bucks to the astonished Quaker City female employee that had been standing behind the counter. The outlandish intruders then evacuate the West Philly business and hop into a van driven by another fellow, who is also dressed in pretentious mummer’s garb.”
After a moment of exhibiting intense hilarity with his government associates, Agent Velardi read to his alert audience of three that on Tuesday, February 12th, 2019 five bearded men dressed as Abraham Lincoln (wearing high stovepipe hats and black suits) entered a novelty store in Las Vegas, Nevada gave the shocked worker a cool thousand bucks and speedily departed without ever firing their loaded water pistols.
The third absurd, corresponding incident occurred in Atlanta, Georgia on Sunday, St. Patrick’s Day, March 17, 2019. Five merry leprechaun imitators, acting in an outlandish and ridiculous manner, presented the fellow manning the cash register with ten “Ben Franklins” and then anxiously evacuated the corner retail store and next, quickly hopped into an awaiting van that soon accelerated out of its temporary parking space.
Agent Dan Blachford was then designated by the Chief to read items four through seven that had been listed on the printout sheet, and subsequently, Agent Arthur Orsi was assigned to read events seven though eleven. Amidst great amusement exhibited by the four men, here are the incredible results that had been identified on the official communique copies that had been sent by Supervisor Matt Riley from FBI D.C. headquarters:
4) Easter Sunday, April 21, 2019. Five individuals in colorful Easter Bunny apparel intentionally hand a thousand dollars to petrified Los Angeles store clerk.
5) Memorial Day, Monday, May 27, 2019. Five men dressed in Army, Navy, Marines, Air Force and Coast Guard garb eagerly point loaded water pistols at an Austin, Texas store employee, and then the impostors gladly hand over a thousand non-counterfeit dollars.
6) Friday, June 14, 2019, Flag Day. Five men wearing typical Uncle Sam costumes enter a Denver, Colorado convenience store and threaten to shoot water pistols at the husband and wife duo standing behind the counter. Instead, the imaginative trespassers generously provide the startled couple with a thousand dollars in cold cash, and then the pseudo-patriotic charlatans rapidly speed-away in a van wildly driven by a sixth Uncle Sam.
“Okay Arty, it’s your turn to review occurrences seven though eleven; that is, if you can cease your incessant laughing,” Chief Giralo mildly admonished. “Gentlemen, I realize that this matter seems to be lunacy to the tenth power, so please try to control yourselves and act professionally as Agent Orsi adequately describes in detail the remaining peculiar episodes.”
7) “Thursday, July 4, 2019: Independence Day. Indianapolis, Indiana,” still giggling Agent Orsi read out loud. “Five white-wigged gentlemen masquerading as colonial George Washington enter a corner grocery store and deliver a thousand-dollar bonus to the extremely stunned owner.”
8) Saturday, August 3, 2019. El Paso, Texas: Watermelon Day. Five muscular males wearing round straw hats and dressed in blue denim overalls, that were held-up by immense, thick matching suspenders, threaten to drench the main store clerk with water pistols but instead, voluntarily deliver ten hundred-dollar greenbacks to the astounded manager.
9) Monday, September 2, 2019: Labor Day. Houston, Texas. Five men imaginatively disguised as pregnant women, having large soft pillows stuffed inside their acquired maternity outfits, provide the store proprietor with a handsome thousand dollars in cash.
10) Monday, October 14, 2019: Columbus Day. Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. Five males dressed as fifteenth century Spanish ship navigators grant a totally surprised candy shop employee a thousand-dollar reward to be immediately placed into the confectionery business’s ancient-looking cash register.
11) Thursday, November 28, 2019: Thanksgiving Day. Irvine, California. Five fascinating men disguised as Mayflower Pilgrims hand-over a thousand bucks to the rattled-and-confused elderly convenience store manager.
After the three assembled FBI agents finally stopped their relentless laughter, Chief Joe Giralo insisted that his humored G-Men ask some pertinent questions designed to help solve the outrageous conundrum that had been egregiously puzzling their investigative minds.
“But Chief, if the prospective bandits give away money instead of pilfering it in an unlawful manner, I don’t see how any general or specific crime has been committed!” Agent Velardi volunteered his objective conclusion. “The only aspect of a crime I can determine that might involve FBI intervention is that these similar events have transpired in many different states.”
“Sal’s absolutely, logically correct!” chimed-in Agent Arthur Orsi. “Has criminal behavior gone completely bonkers and off the rails? This entire oddball scenario we’ve been scrupulously analyzing, and quite frankly, wasting our precious time upon is preposterously puzzling, to say the least!”
“Well Chief,” Agent Dan Blachford began his evaluative inquiry, “do the clever masqueraders demand anything in return for contributing a thousand clams to store personnel once each monthly holiday in various cities all across America?”
“Dan, I’m glad you asked that very relevant question,” Inspector Giralo commended usually reticent Agent Blachford. “Yes, the five holiday-disguised mimickers do make two distinct purchases each time that they enter a different shop each month.”
“And exactly what do the idiotic rascals buy?” a very curious Agent Velardi strongly desired learning.
“Apparently Sal, each of the five prankster-holiday-honoring personages truly possesses a sweet tooth. Every time the candy lovers randomly enter a convenience store on a celebrated holiday, the group habitually purchases two chocolate bars in exchange for a thousand cash bucks: the first a Pay Day Bar, and the second, a 100 Grand Bar,” a somewhat addled Joe Giralo replied. “Now Guys, we’ll meet again here in my office a full week from today, Monday, December 16 at noon. I want you three Dick Tracy-types to thoroughly research and report back every single iota you detect about this candy phenomenon that has been discussed so far. Something is definitely amiss in this perplexing sequence of loony holiday fiascos,” Inspector Giralo hypothesized and concluded, “and I desire learning precisely what is going on in certain urban convenience stores throughout the country on special calendar holidays!”
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
When Agents Salvatore Velardi, Arthur Orsi and Dan Blachford strolled into the first-floor lobby of Philadelphia FBI headquarters at 600 Arch Street at noon on Monday, December 16, the three purpose-minded government officials were casually discussing the amusing theory that their “arcane boss” Chief Inspector Joe Giralo’s “uncanny problem-solving ability” was indeed one hundred percent intuitive. The discourse proceeded in the following manner:
“Our distinguished Mentor always reiterates to us that wily criminals and avowed terrorists are people, just like us, and that those same nefarious folks tend to think and behave in observable and measurable patterns, just like we do,” Agent Velardi accurately declared as the ''dynamic trio'' awaited the arrival of the lobby elevator to transport them up to the building''s eighth floor. “But truly, the Inspector has the extraordinary capacity to connect formerly unrelated dots that then ultimately lead us to interpreting certain enigmatic developments. Our boss calls his fantastic talent ''a simple knack'', but I think it''s all much more complicated than just that! He seems to marvelously discover the critical missing element that literally always tends to confound and elude the three of us!”
“Yes Sal, I wholeheartedly agree with your depiction,” Agent Art Orsi confirmed. “I still think the Chief is more than a tad psychic, although he constantly maintains that all he does is cleverly associate parallel situations. He then uses the process of deduction inside the ordinary ''scientific method of thinking'' in order to amazingly verify his authentic theories. I believe that our eminent ‘Mentor’ is also our diabolical ‘Tormentor’.”
“Ha, ha, ha!” Agent Dan Blachford cheerfully reacted as the familiar gray metal elevator doors slowly opened. “Of course, Arty, when we quietly enter his solemn sanctuary, the Chief will instinctively make us suffer through listening to a barrage of irrelevant small-talk. I hope that you’ fellas’ are better prepared than I am in regard to explaining the ludicrous stunts being enacted by these very baffling holiday masqueraders.”
Upon exiting the elevator at the eighth floor, Agents Velardi, Orsi and Blachford swiftly paced into Chief Joe Giralo''s office and immediately noticed their distinguished superior predictably sitting behind his prodigious oak desk and conscientiously examining the front-page newspaper headlines of the morning Philadelphia Inquirer. Raising his balding head, the inimitable Inspector was quite pleased upon realizing that his “capable threesome” had punctually arrived to honor their scheduled Monday, December 16 noon conference with their erudite mentor.
“Hi Boss,” usually laconic Dan Blachford greeted. “What does the morning paper have to divulge today. It’s really yesterday’s news, and soon most daily rags will be obsolete just like the Pony Express, Conestoga wagons and the Morse Code Telegraph. If you really want to get what’s developing right this minute,” Blachford offered, “you need to rely solely on your trusty hand computer!”
“I got bored with the main headlines,” somewhat-aggravated Joe Giralo answered, “so I rummaged to page fifteen and read where two altar boys in Spain had put marijuana in the church censer. After burning the censer contents, the Catholic priests who were saying Mass were really fuming!”
“That’s one way to get Catholic priests incensed!” intrepidly joked Agent Arthur Orsi. “But Boss, you’re correct in observing that real news is now mixed-in with pathetic tabloid journalism. I actually think that social media is the true culprit that’s wholly responsible for that grotesque metamorphosis.”
“Needless to say, Boss,” Agent Velardi facetiously spoke-up before Giralo could respond to Agent Orsi, “the exasperated Spanish priests soon found-out that there was pot in the pot!”
“Fellas’ take your seats,” Inspector Giralo announced in an almost apologetic tone, feeling a bit guilty for being drawn into the rather inane conversation. “This will be an abbreviated session for us today because I have an upcoming appointment with several highly-motivated rookie recruits that’s slated for 12:30.”
“An appointment is always better than a disappointment,” jested Agent Velardi.
“Salvatore, you’d better watch your ridiculous sense of humor or else you might be replaced by one of the Bureau’s neophytes that I’m about to interview,” the slightly irritated Chief chastised his main G-Man. “I think that you might actually fit-in better writing off-the-wall satire and parody scripts for Comedy Central. I could be wrong, but you might even work your way up to organizing hilarious dialogue for South Park!”
“Sorry Boss,” the Team Captain candidly indicated. “Sometimes my mouth gets ahead of my brain.”
“As I was saying,” Giralo proceeded while nodding his head to show that he had tacitly accepted his subordinate’s sincere statement of regret, “today I’m dispensing with the regular picayune small-talk about what you three Dr. Watsons had done over the weekend. As for me, I’ve already completed my holiday gift buying and have erected this year’s Christmas tree,” Giralo characteristically boasted. “As you dedicated Guys know, I’m a devout miniature-train enthusiast, and I’ve even gotten my village platform organized early so that the neighborhood kids can appreciate how yesteryear youngsters used to enjoy themselves before this terrible age of sophisticated hand-held computers and I-pods.”
“That’s really great Inspector,” impatient Agent Orsi half-heartedly appreciated. “But what have you and Matt Riley’s stellar committee down in D.C. learned about these conniving holiday mimickers? Honestly, I think we’re wandering a trifle off-subject reviewing your many mediocre Christmas preparations!”
“Not exactly, Arty. There’s an old maxim among newspaper editors that goes, ‘Dog bites old man; no story. Old man bites dog; absolutely a frontpage, newsworthy story’,” Joe Giralo sternly expressed. “I believe that these bizarre holiday masqueraders are creating a distinct diversion for something more sinister that’s happening. Naturally, the moronic media pays attention to the insane, superficial behavior that’s in progress while the distracted press obviously usually ignores rather ordinary criminal acts that are simultaneously occurring. Now Arty, kindly give me a non-superficial synopsis of what your recent research has uncovered.”
Agent Orsi coughed and then delivered a formal dissertation about how Pay Day candy bars had originated on the retail market in 1932, but the brand name had then been sold to Consolidated Foods in 1938; however, Consolidated Foods later became the Sara Lee Company. “The very delicious peanut and caramel candy bar production and distribution rights are currently owned by the Hershey Corporation,” Art Orsi skillfully communicated.
Agent Dan Blachford then orated a brief summary of the 100 Grand Bar created in 1964, which formerly had the title “Hundred Thousand Dollar Bar” until 1986. “The delectable ingredients are chocolate, chewy caramel and crispy rice,” Blachford methodically explained, “and the candy bar was a product of the Nestle Company until last year, but now in 2019 Nestle has merged with another confectionery firm named Ferrera Candy Company.”
“This is all well and good,” Chief Giralo mentioned, “but we still haven’t established the evasive motive for these five, devious knuckleheads oddly dressed in foolish-looking outfits giving store personnel a thousand dollars just for two money-oriented candy bars. Now then, before I dismiss this informal meeting,” Giralo meticulously specified, “I have something additional to share that Matt Riley and I regard as rather pertinent evidence for you three gumshoes to constructively examine.”
Giralo again opened his impressive oak desk’s top drawer, removed the same faded oak-tag folder and cautiously handed his men three photocopies of an “essential incomplete word” that the Boss theorized was most definitely a material clue. “Gentlemen, this brief documentation I believe represents a key factor in cracking-open this up-to-now incredulous Holiday Hooligans case.”
“This looks like total gibberish to me,” complained and protested Agent Velardi. “Why didn’t you hand us the Rosetta Stone or maybe some Indian Sanskrit message instead?”
“For your intense scrutiny,” the Inspector addressed his competent team, “I’ve taken the liberty to type-in exact chronological order the first letters of the eleven cities that have thus far been frivolously exposed to the abnormal shenanigans of the five disguised suspects, along with their similarly-dressed van driver accomplice.”
“I see a definite connection already,” Agent Blachford deduced and verbally shared. “There are eleven letters indicated on this piece of paper, and eleven cities have actually been targeted. I conjecture that the twelfth mystery city will be hit on Christmas Day.”
“Dan’s right,” impulsively verified Agent Orsi. “The twelfth impractical intrusion will mischievously occur on Christmas Day, and our challenging task is to figure-out what U.S. city will be the next setting for these obnoxious, six slippery rogues to visit.”
“Now study the eleven letters carefully,” Giralo advised his fully preoccupied assistants. “There might be some elusive-but-germane hint embedded within the chronological sequence of first letters starting with alphabet item P.”
P-L-A-L-A-D-I-E-H-P-I
“Now Men, I confidently predict that the next candy store exploit will occur with six individuals dressed as Santa Claus on Christmas Day, Wednesday December 25,” the overweight man seated behind the oak desk prognosticated. “And I also think that city number twelve will begin with the letter ‘H’, but it will not again be Houston. We’ll meet this coming Saturday at noon inside Andy’s Restaurant, Route 54, in Hammonton to further discuss this most fairly sensational case. Until then,” Chief Giralo remarked and then smiled, “I strongly recommend that you three crackerjack detectives also actively pursue your regular happy investigations.”
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
Rural Hammonton and vicinity had for over a century been a prosperous, commercial agricultural hub for Southern New Jersey. In the 1950s, peaches were the dominant fruit crop. Then in the late ‘60s, blueberries became the area farmers’ money favorite. Now in 2019, raspberries, grapes and blackberries have been gaining a solid economic foothold. To remember and honor the community’s vital agrarian past and present, Peach Tree Plaza on Route 30 and Blueberry Crossing Mall on the same four-lane highway respectively refer to the ‘50s and ‘60s, and now Raspberry Run Shoppes, located south of town on Route 54, alludes to the present summer produce industry. Chief Giralo and his three proficient federal colleagues were scheduled to unite at Andy’s Restaurant at Raspberry Run for a pertinent noonday discussion on Saturday, December 21st.”
“It was nice for the owners to cooperate and provide an isolated table in the back room,” Joe Giralo stated as the four hungry patrons sat-down at the reserved round table. “Thanks to my shiny FBI badge, we G-Men always receive top priority when it comes to accommodations and seating arrangements.”
An attractive blonde waitress scurried across the brown tile floor and intended to pass-out menus that included breakfast and lunch entrees. “That’s all right Miss,” the Inspector pleasantly declared. “Just bring us three cups of hot coffee and three orders of eggs, bacon, home fries and white toast. And please have the chef make the eggs over light!”
“Now Chief,” Agent Velardi softly uttered, “Arty, Dan and I have successfully decoded the cryptogram with the letters P-L-A-L-A-D-I-E-H-P-I. You told us that the twelfth missing alphabet letter is a second ‘H’. If you rearrange the twelve letters after adding your ‘H’, the city of ‘Philadelphia’ is formed.”
“That observation is only a minor coincidence,” Giralo plausibly informed Velardi. “The important factor to note is that the second ‘H’ city is going to be something other than Houston.”
“Well, I’ll wager that it certainly isn’t Hammonton,” Art Orsi surmised and chuckled. “Inspector, I’m pretty befuddled about this whole silly ordeal. What’s your esoteric theory about the second ‘H’ city having a variety of convenience stores that could potentially be harassed by a bevy of asinine St. Nicholas wannabes. The next event, or should I say ‘fiasco’, will be a dumb, foolish Santa Claus intrusion happening somewhere in an ‘H’ city on Wednesday, December 25th.”
Just after the breakfast orders had been graciously served, Joe Giralo then delved deeply into the crux of the matter. “I conjecture that the redundant 100 Grand candy bar purchase is probably the master key that unlocks this entire freaky holiday costume mystery. Certain criminals are so cocky and haughty that they think they can easily outsmart anyone involved in law enforcement,” Giralo maintained. “This ongoing holiday candy bar travesty is merely a cute diversion to draw the press’s attention away from a crime-in-progress. Reporters and TV news anchors will stupidly divert their so-called ‘news stories’ from describing crimes to writing disgusting tabloid journalism such as imbecilic leprechauns and Easter bunnies fanatically paying a thousand dollars for one Pay Day candy bar and for one 100 Grand candy-bar that will have been obtained at twelve separate stores in a dozen different metropolises.”
“Okay Inspector,” chipped-in a generally bewildered Sal Velardi, “but how do we determine what the second ‘H’ city will be that’ll have some unfortunate convenience store clerk scared to death by these nutcase holiday hooligans on Christmas Day?”
“You’re putting the cart before the horse,” Giralo responded by uttering an overused, hackneyed cliché. “Now Salvatore, certain expensive automobiles such as Mercedes-Benz CL Class, top-end Cadillac Escalades and Porsche 911s retail at around a hundred thousand dollars each. I speculate that the 100 Grand candy bar is the real decoding mechanism to be utilized here.”
“Holy cow! I think you’re positively right, Boss,” Agent Blachford confirmed after aggressively consulting related data from his indispensable handheld FBI computer. “Now I believe I understand the entire complicated canard. High-end plush cars have been stolen precisely on the same holiday dates that the weirdo masquerading hooligans had created havoc in all eleven cities that formed most of the letters to the word ‘Philadelphia’, which if I recall, was the first city existing on the comprehensive FBI list.”
After sipping a mouthful of his tasty coffee, inspired Inspector Joe Giralo directed Agent Orsi to research on his handheld computer the identities of the next three densely populated U.S. “H cites”.
“Huntsville, Alabama is indicated as Number 123, Huntington Beach, California is listed as Number 124 and Hollywood, Florida is not far behind,” G-Man Arthur Orsi contributed his valuable input in solving the formerly perplexing holiday hooligan enigma.
“Then it’s all settled!” Inspector Giralo sagely proclaimed. “I’ll consult with Matt Riley later today and we’ll dispatch three separate FBI squads: one each to Huntsville, to Huntington Beach and to Hollywood, Florida. I’m quite sure than our triple ‘H’ dragnets, all occurring at high-end car dealerships, will ultimately land us with at least several surprised suspects this coming Christmas Day! The clowns that we will apprehend will surely rat on all of their criminal accomplices. Bon Appetit, Gentlemen!”
Jay Dubya
John Wiessner (J.W.)
Google: Jay Dubya books
|
I always enjoy your writing.
haven't see one for review in a while, what can you send?
Never stop writing
m
The story was very creative with the idea of a reverse robbery, following in the pattern of the original Secret Santa. I tried that a couple of years ago just before Christmas by going out into a very populated Westheimer business strip to a very popular Starbucks to pass out free books of mine in closing a $50 bill as a bookmark. Unfortunately, I encountered numerous homeless outside of Starbucks who eyed me with great suspicion and one who did not, refused my offer of a free book by declaring that he didn't read. But when I gave him the $50, anyway, he lit up with joy, and soon vacated his position outside of the Starbucks door to go buy his favorite addiction with his soon-to-be spent, good fortune.
With Starbucks a bust, we parked in front of an upscale grocery store and ladies emerging thanked me heavily for the books and the money, promising to make a comment where my books were sold. None did in the rush of their busy lives.
Looks like ya have another winner just in time for the Christmas season. Early bargains have already begun In this most materialistic of holy days.
Ron