This is actually the answer to one of your previous questions, which you closed before I could submit it! No hard feelings, but I'm off to bed.
(I don't expect BA, just wanted to share what I had written in the last hour...and congrats to SoupKitty, she's good).
- AtD
(begin)
“Okay, stop me if you’ve heard this one before,” said Gabe, putting down his Rob Roy and trying to keep his gaze away from Chloe’s cleavage, “An antisocial maverick doctor , a broker who gambles and a lapsed Baptist walk into a bar….”
Chloe smiled and pretended to listen. She looked behind Gabe, hoping to spot Yvonne and Daria, who had come in with her to case out Orange County’s most notorious singles-bar, The Flabbergasted Plum. To her chagrin, her companions were nowhere in sight.
“And so with a big grin,” continued Gabe, “the Baptist says…` Sure.....with the proper amount of Vicodin!’”
“Ha! Ha! Uh…ha ha ha!” said Chloe, doing her best to fake uproarious laughter. “That was SO funny, Goob…”
“Gabe, the name’s Gabe sweetums,” he corrected, adjusting his toupee.
“Yes, whatever,” Chloe said, guzzling her Long Island Tea, “quite funny. I’m sure you’re quite a hit at the office.”
“Your banshee-like laughter is causing my few remaining brain cells to go into a fetal position,” said Gabe after an uncomfortable silence. “But I think you get my drift, gorgeous. How about you give me your phone number? “
“Maybe you should give me yours.”
“No, no….often if I’m away, Mom will answer it. And she thinks all girls I meet in bars are unclean. And Dad only wants to double-date, so it works better if you give me your number. Or you can call me at my hospital, on regular business days.”
“Oh, are you a doctor?”
“Actually I’m the bedpan inspector. SOMEONE’s gotta make sure they’re up to seat…er, speed!”
Gabe then erupted into gales of chuckling at his gaffe, and Chloe was tempted to serve him a Molotov Cocktail, down the front of his checkered spandex trousers. But she and her companions were undercover agents, sent here to find the notorious “Checkbook Casanova”, and who was to say that this pathetic cretin couldn’t be that very criminal?
“Let's all calm down and have a reality check, shall we?” Chloe said, crossing her legs on the bar stool, which teasingly exposed the strap of her garter belt. “I hate crowds. How about you and I find a cozy little spot outside to…..get more acquainted?”
“Nooooooow you're talkin', beamed Gabe, who nearly spilled his drink in his excitement. “I’ve got a van parked right across the street.”
“Let me go powder my nose, and I’ll meet you there in 10 minutes,” cooed Chloe, gently running her manicured nails down the front of Gabe’s hair vest, momentarily hooking his large gold MACHO MAN medallion.
“Oooh, a hair-puller!” gushed Gabe.
“Ahem,” said Chloe, waving to the blushing man as she maneuvered herself on tall black stilettos to the ladie’s room. She breathed a sigh of relief when she saw Yvonne and Daria inside, brushing their hair and reapplying their make-up.
“I’ve got one,” said Chloe, readjusting her mini-skirt. “Keep me monitored, I’m going to turn on the wire and see if we can’t land ourself the Checkbook Casanova finally.”
“Got it,” said the girls. “We’ll wait for your signal.”
=========================================
“Hey, what gives?” protested Gabe, as Chloe tightened the handcuffs and began tasering the startled swinger.
“ I never promised you a rose garden,” cooed Chloe, watching his backside quiver with every electric jolt she applied, “but the biggest thorn is when we throw the book at you, for picking up women and then bolting with their purses. Say goodbye to your criminal career, Checkbook Casanova!”
“You’ve got it all wrong – “
“Applause or forgiveness, no matter,” she said. Sirens approached. The police were closing in.
“….I’m the COOKBOOK Casanova!”
“What?”
“Yes, I take women out and then during their first visit at their place, I steal their cookbooks,” said Gabe, shamefully. “I run a cheap restaurant on the other side of town, and we use pilfered cookbooks. But now I’ll be ruined.”
Yvonne and Daria flung open the back doors to Gabe’s van. He began sobbing pathetically.
“Wrong man,” said Chloe, watching his partners pepper-spray the weeping Gabe. “Uhm, stop that.”
“No, I deserve it,” whimpered Gabe.
Chloe explained everything. They even rummaged through Gabe’s cache of stolen books, which did not include The Joy of Sex, but The Joy of Cooking instead.
“Apparently, no one gave him the updated version,” sniffed Daria. “This meatloaf recipe is seriously out of date.”
When the cops arrived a moment later with guns drawn, they jumped into the van and discovered it…empty.
===============================
Gabe was smiling big, as he emptied a fresh bag of cilantro into the Thai pasta. Chloe, Yvonne, and Daria watched him with only partial interest. It didn’t help that Gabe was still wearing his thong underwear, which labored under his hairy paunch.
“We’ll book him on indecent exposure,” said Chloe, “if nothing else. And ruining my appetite. But we are still assigned to find the Checkbook Casanova.”
“ Despite the undeniable wisdom of pop songs , it is highly unlikely that she is wearing the face that she keeps in a jar by the door,” sang Gabe, drizzling some soy sauce into the spicy entrée, “and though I am the victim of cop wrongs, there’s still some space in the car near the floor…”
“Oh that’s IT,” said Yvonne, pulling out her revolver, “finish that lyric, you little twit, and MAKE MY DAY.”
“Or better yet, make your sat--AY..” smiled Gabe.
Before Chloe or Daria could stop her, Yvonne fired wildly into the kitchen, shattering ceramic bowls and exploding a box of Grape Nuts. When the smoke cleared, Gabe was still there, smiling.
Then there was another noise, a low groan of pain, from behind the bullet-riddled wall.
“Yvonne!” growled Chloe, as the trio left Gabe’s room and went next door. There on the floor was a tall, dark, handsome man cradling his thigh which was bleeding. Next to him was a slender woman in a jogging suit, nervously cradling a bottle of massage oil. It had been emptied by another stray bullet.
“Guys, look,” said Daria, pointing to the floor. Surrounding the groaning, bleeding man were piles of checkbooks and purses. The undercover cops hurriedly rifled through them, and discovered that through a freak coincidence, they had captured The Checkbook Casanova.
“ The chaotic ramblings of the massage therapist destroyed my zen-like state,” he cursed. “Normally I don’t groan and whimper from pain. Being a rugged handsome man and all.”
“Let’s just say your luck has been overdrawn, Checkbook Casanova,” sneered Chloe. “You’re going down to the station with us!”
“But he’s got 15 minutes left,” muttered the massage therapist.
“Take your body lotions and fine oils to the geek next door,” ordered Chloe. “Focus on the wrists, he was handcuffed earlier tonight.”
An hour later, Chloe, Yvonne, and Daria smiled in satisfaction as the Checkbook Casanova was hurled into the slammer. And Gabe smiled in satisfaction as his sore tendons and aching wrists found comfort in the controlled, vigorous massage of Penelope Carson….who would later be on a spree herself, for stealing hapless swingers’ loud and kitschy gold neckwear.
The “Macho-Medallion Masseuse” is still at large and is considered very toned.
FINIS