The Birds

Chapter 8: Blasts from the past

Terrabell: (to third speaker) "We still have found nothing about those who attacked us?"

The Master sat upon a mat in his chambers, eyes closed.  Terrabell, Cruel, and the third speaker
sat across from him.

Terrabell: "We should capture and interrogate the cowards and that eyewitness who came
forward to the police as the master has ordered us to do."

Third: "We were ordered only to find those who attacked us, not to capture or interrogate
anyone."

Terrabell: "How are we to find out anything if we don't interrogate the only possible witnesses.

Cruel looked nervously between his two arguing companions, and the Master sitting silently.  The
issue at hand was a dispute between the two arguing crows over an apparent conflict in their
master's orders.  On one hand he had commanded them to find the pair of warriors who had
interfered with the attack.  On the other hand he had forbade them from coming into contact with
the Pizza Cats or the authorities unless specifically ordered to.  Cruel looked once again at the
Master, sitting silently, seemingly oblivious and unperturbed by the heated argument taking place
not more than two feet in front of him.

More than anything in the world, Cruel wanted to be ANYWHERE else right now.

Third: "Terrabell, the eyewitness is under heavy surveillance by the police and the cowards are
working for the Pizza Cats.  We can't strike at any of the three without being noticed."

Terrabell: "Considering the possible threat from the attackers, any information those three might
have would logically be well worth the risk Peter."

Petey flinched visibly at being called Peter.  Terrabell was the only person in the world who called
him that and he hated it.

Cruel: <Great, the Ice Princess strikes again>

Terrabell had always despised emotions.  She considered passions and feelings to be the greatest
weaknesses in existence.  She always tried to put forth this cold, logical visage of herself.  When
they were children, she was dubbed the Ice Princess as a result.  Now that they were older, Cruel
thought that the name fit even better.  Ironically, instead of coming off as cold and logical, she
usually just seemed to be angry at whoever she was talking to, especially Petey.

Cruel looked over at Petey Atrick.  He and Petey had always been close friends.  Well, maybe not
always.  Back when they first met he had been less a friend of Petey, and more a worshiper of
him.  All the kids were, with the exception of Terrabell.  After all, here was a kid living in their
village, going to their dojo, eating with them at lunch, studying at their school, sitting behind
them, or next to them, or in front of them in their classes, who was none other than the grandson
of Master Jerry Atrick himself!  This had instantly made him the most popular kid in school.
When he was twelve, seventeen year olds were trying to make friends with him.  Before Petey
came to town everyone had felt the same way about Cruel because every kid in town idolized
Cruel's father, including Cruel.  Still, when Petey arrived he had to concede that that was nothing
compared with being the grandson of Master Atrick.

He still remembered the day he first met Petey.  Of course, all the kids knew Petey was coming.
Most of the village children would grow up to be the farmers and craftsmen that supported each
Ninja Crow village, and the Ninja Crow way of life.  However, regardless of that, every Ninja
Crow child was trained as a ninja, with something around the top ten percent becoming full Ninja
Crows.  Full Ninja Crows spend their days training their skills for when they would be called upon
to carry out a mission.  Those who achieved rank carried out the training of their underlings and
answered to the commander of the village.  In Cruel's village the commander was Cruel's own
father, a fact caused him to strut his stuff whenever he was around other kids.  Sufficed to say, it
is impossible to keep a secret as big as the grandson of Master Atrick away from an entire village
of ninjas in training, so everybody knew Petey was coming.

Being related to a master was not that uncommon, Cruel himself had a great uncle who was a
Ninja Crow Master.  There was, maybe one master for every five villages.  Nobody other than a
Master knew how one became a Master.  Neither did Cruel, for his master had only begun to train
he and his companions.  One day, for no apparent reason, a Master would come to someone and
take them away.  If that person came back, and they didn't always come back, they were usually a
Master.  Sometimes though, they came back and they weren't Masters.  Old man Fletcherfin on
the edge of town was one of these.  He hadn't spoken to anyone since he walked into town and
said, "I'm back," forty years ago.  During the day he would go out and work in the rice paddies,
then he would go home and sit in his rocking chair all night.  Nobody in town had ever known
him to sleep.  Stuff like that didn't happen often.  People usually came back Masters or didn't
come back.  When they did come back they hey were a quiet and melancholy group and they
traveled around, spreading their wisdom among the populace.  Nobody gave them much thought
beyond paying them the respect that a Master was due.

Petey was different though.  Petey was related to Master Atrick, the Master who other Masters
called Master.  The Master who was the keeper of the Karasu Ninjitsu Scrolls, written in Worc's
own hand.  The Scrolls were the core of Ninja Crow life.  There were three types Scrolls. The
first were the common scrolls, which every member of Ninja Crow society must not only know by
heart, but must copy down from memory.  Their Scroll set was any Ninja Crow's most prized
possession.  The second set were the Master Scrolls, which were accessible only to Masters and
which, it was assumed, told how the Masters were trained.  Cruel and his companions had never
seen one of these scrolls and assumed that the Master would introduce them later.  The third set
of scrolls were the Worc Scrolls themselves.  Nobody but Master Atrick knew how many total
scrolls were written by Worc, but everyone knew that there were more than just the Common and
Master Scrolls.  To know what was recorded in the Worc Scrolls would have been the greatest
thing in the world for any Ninja Crow, so anyone who might have, say, heard his grandfather talk
in his sleep would be very popular around the schoolyard.

Cruel and his friends watched the sky on the day of the expected arrival from before dawn.  Petey
and his parents arrived around noon.  In all the excitement about his being the grandson of Master
Jerry Atrick, everybody had overlooked the fact that his parents were both Masters as well.  The
parents were greeted by Cruel's father and shown into a building, leaving Petey out in the field
with all the village children.  He was a thin, short crow of about ten years, the same as Cruel and a
year younger than Terrabell.  Cruel had expected him to begin strutting around the same way
Cruel had when his father had been the most popular relative in town.  Instead Petey just stood
there.  All of the village's children were at a loss, and nobody said a word.  Neither did Petey.

That was when the Talon girls decided to make trouble.  The Talon girls were five sisters, a
twelve year old, a clutch of three thirteen year olds, and the eldest sister Bertha.  The Talon girls
were the town bullies, and seeing all their potential victims standing quietly out in the open in the
middle of a field was too much to resist.  They charged out of the nearby trees, yelling and
throwing rocks at the group.  All the other kids ran, but Terrabell and he stood their ground.
They were extremely good fighters for their age and were, quite frankly, not afraid of the Talon
girls in the slightest.  The two dropped into defensive stances to meet the oncoming charge, when
Petey walked between them toward the Talon girls.  He didn't run, he didn't prepare himself in
any way to fight, he just walked toward them.  Cruel was dumbfounded, Terrabell, as usual, was
completely unaffected, and the Talon girl's, not knowing what to make of this, stopped their
charge.  Petey walked up to Bertha, considered to be an act of suicide by most of the children at
the time, looked up at her and said, "When, in his great wisdom, did Worc teach us to fight
amongst ourselves?"  If any other child in the village had caused the Talons to stop in their tracks,
they would have acted tough.  Petey did not act tough, asked them a question, as though they
were having a pleasant conversation instead of being poised on the verge of battle.  Bertha
responded, "Uh, I don't think he ever talked about it."  Petey considered this for a moment and
then responded, "Yes, I think you're right.  I don't believe he ever did.  Thank you."  He thanked
them.  This was too much for the Talon girls.  Not only was this kid the grandson of Master
Atrick, and the son of two Masters, but now he was looking, talking, and acting like a Master
himself as well.  Bertha eyed him cautiously, almost fearfully, then having determined that this
was way out of her league, she walked away.  The rest of the Talon girls followed her.  The
village children stood in awe, with the sole exception of Terrabell.  Nobody had ever beaten the
Talons, many had fought them, but nobody had beat them.  Here Petey had done it without
throwing a single punch.  Years later, Petey and he would become friends and think of him as an
equal, but until that time Cruel virtually worshiped Petey for the feat he accomplished on that first
day.

After the Talon girls left, Terrabell walked up to Petey and asked him, in her normal standard icy
manner, what his name was.  Terrabell was the only kid in town who didn't know.  She never
bothered to listen to gossip and rumor, considering it wasteful and evasive.  Petey introduced
himself as Petey Atrick and held out his hand to shake.  Terrabell did not take his hand, she
despised such useless formalities, and said, "Very well done Peter Atrick," then walked away.
Petey's head swivelled around as his gaze followed her as she walked away.  His hand remained
out, ready to shake.  Cruel stepped forward, took the hand and shook it vigorously.  "The name's
Cruel," he said, "Sorry about the Ice Princess, she's like that toward everyone."  Petey responded,
"Ice Princess?" to which Cruel said, "Terrabell," and indicated the retreating figure.  "Oh," Petey
said.  After years had passed and Cruel had stopped worshiping Petey, it had become painfully
obvious to him that from the moment he met her Petey Atrick had had the universe's biggest
crush on Terrabell.  He still did, which was why it bothered Petey so much when Terrabell called
him Peter.

Cruel looked once again at Petey, who was launching into another volley of reasoning opposing
Terrabell's argument.

Cruel: <It's not gonna happen buddy.  The Ice Princess warms up to no one.>

Cruel had told Petey this on many occasions.  In retrospect, he wasn't surprised that the words
had had no effect.  It had already been over a decade and he still waited.  There was no limit to
Petey's patience, or if there was, Cruel had never found it.

Master: (cut short and softly) "Enough!"

However, the Master's patience was another story.  The two quarrelers fell silent.  The master
had not moved, or opened his eyes.

Master: "The two who found the victims are working closely with the Pizza Cats.  At all costs the
Pizza Cats must not become aware of us before it is time.  Young Atrick is right in saying that
they must not be approached.  The third is in the hands of the police.  The police are of no
concern to us."

Terrabell: "Should I take him Master?"

Master: "No, I shall deal with him myself."

Cruel and Petey were quite taken aback by this.  Terrabell, as usual, was not.  The Master seldom
took matters into his own hands.  That he did now made Cruel's blood run cold.

Master: "I have arranged the next portion of our plan with Master Atrick.  You four will make
contact with he and the one he is honor bound to serve in one month's time.  You are to come
under the pretense of having trained yourselves secretly during the years of your absence.  He will
pretend to know nothing of you.  You will under no circumstances speak with him on any subject
pertaining to myself, your training, your activities in these years of absence, or the plan itself in
public or in private.  He will do the same.  You are not even to mention my name.  You will not
discuss any of these subjects amongst yourselves either.  These things are never to be spoken of.
Do you three understand?"

All: "Yes Master."

Master: "You will explain to the young one and ensure that she understands as well."

The Master picked up a newspaper and opened it to the second page.

Master: (reading aloud) "The latest reports of the two unfortunate victims of the attack several
nights ago are that they are in stable condition and will make a full recovery. (He paused for a
moment) This is despite the fact that both received wounds that doctors say would have been
most surely fatal, including an impaling, but miraculously, resulted in no serious internal injury."

The Master put down the paper.

Master: "My orders were that they were to receive no fatal wounds. (Cruel's blood drained from
his face) The only reason they are alive is because the two who attacked you healed them. (He
paused again) You have failed.  Failure is unacceptable.  The young one is training as we speak, is
this correct?"

Terrabell: (unaffected despite the impending doom) "Yes Master."

Master: "It is important for her to train her abilities.  You will allow her to finish, then the four of
you will answer for your failure.  You are dismissed."

The three bowed, rose to their feet, then left the room.  Cruel thought he was going to throw up.

Nurse Hillary: (over intercom) "Doctor Bitterwolf, Doctor Nada Bitterwolf, Please report to the
MRI."

Doctor Nada Bitterwolf, who's naming had been an odd mix of German and African ancestry,
removed the glasses from the end of his nose and cursed under his breath.  He picked up the
receiver on the phone sitting on the counter and put it up to his head, the bottom end mere inches
from the wickedly curved teeth that lined his lupin mouth, and dialed the front desk.

Nurse Hillary: (on the phone) "Hello."

Doctor Bitterwolf: "Hillary, why am I needed in the MRI."

Nurse Hillary: "Doctor Kats wants you to take a look at some test results."

Doctor Bitterwolf: "For crying out loud, why would he need me in there just to look at some te . .
.  Hillary, are these test from those two attack victims that came in the other day?  The Anchovy-
Manx case?"

Nurse Hillary: "Umm . . . Yes, I think they are."

Doctor Bitterwolf: "Tell him I'll be right down after I finish my rounds."

Doctor Bitterwolf took being a doctor very seriously.  When other doctors were worrying about
missing tee-off he was taking meticulous care at covering his rounds.  These people were in his
care, their lives were in his hands, and he had an obligation to see to it that his patients knew that
their doctor was there for them.  Doctor Bitterwolf would only miss his rounds if he was needed
for an emergency case.  He was the kind of doctor Hippocrates had in mind when he wrote the
Hippocratic oath.  Still, he was almost tempted to skip his rounds for the Anchovy-Manx case, as
the staff had come to call it.  It was an intriguing case.  Strange things had been happening ever
since those two had come in.  It was good that they had Katz on the case.  He was a good man
when he wasn't missing a tee-off.

Doctor Bitterwolf finished his rounds and then made his way to the MRI.  When he walked in,
Doctor Kats was waiting for him..

Doctor Kats: (greeting) "Doctor!"

Doctor Bitterwolf: "Doctor!"

Doctor Kats: "We've gotten some interesting results out of the MRI with the two patients
doctor."

Doctor Bitterwolf: "Really doctor?  What is it this time, did you find an explanation for the blood
in the abdominal cavity?"

Doctor Kats: "Yes doctor, I have found an explanation, but that reason is even more startling
than the result."

Doctor Bitterwolf: "I'm intrigued doctor.  Do go on."

Doctor Kats: "To recap doctor, there is the before mentioned abdominal bleeding that is lacking a
source, and the total lack of internal damage of any kind that would be expected considering the
degree and type of trauma sustained.  In addition to this I have two more mysteries that have
surfaced since."

Doctor Bitterwolf: "What would the first be doctor?

Doctor Kats picked up a bottle and tossed it to Doctor Bitterwolf.

Doctor Kats: "You are familiar with this drug doctor?"

Doctor Bitterwolf: "Yes doctor."

Doctor Kats: "Doctor, today I used that to subdue the male patient during a fit.  It took no less
than 120 ccs to render him unconscious."

Doctor Bitterwolf's eyes went wide.

Doctor Bitterwolf: "Doctor, that's enough to knock out an eight hundred pound man."

Doctor Kats: "Yes doctor, I know.  None the less, this man is under two hundred pounds and that
is how much it took to subdue him."

Doctor Bitterwolf: <Wow!> "Wow!  I've heard of persons having immunity to various
medicinals, but nothing close to that scale before doctor."

Doctor Kats: "Yes, I know doctor, but that is nothing in comparison with the results of Miss
Manx's MRI scans."

Doctor Bitterwolf: "Nothing you say doctor?  I would think that the only thing that could surprise
me more would be one of those miracle healings that preachers are always going on about."

Doctor Bitterwolf begins to laugh at this joke, but Doctor Katz remained stoic.

Doctor Bitterwolf: (puzzled) "You're not laughing doctor . . . Do you mean to tell me that it IS a
miracle cure?!!"

Doctor Kats: "I'm not sure what to make of it, but Miss Manx is . . . well."

Doctor Bitterwolf: "Well???  What do you mean well?"

Doctor Kats: "I mean her wounds have closed, her abrasions have vanished, her bones have
knitted, she can go home.  She's well doctor."

Doctor Bitterwolf: "Doctor that's impossible, she's only been in for two days."

He went over to the computer terminal and brought up Francine's MRI scans.

Doctor Bitterwolf: "There must be some mistake in how you're reading the data."

But the data was there right in front of his own eyes.  All the scans clearly showed that the
massive breaks in the bones, the cuts and bruises, everything was gone.

Doctor Bitterwolf: (awestruck) "This is scientifically impossible."

Doctor Kats: "Doctor I could swear that she even has less acne now than when she came in.  My
theory pertaining to the abdominal cavity blood is that the internal organs were indeed damaged
and bled, but that damage healed before she even arrived here at the hospital."

Doctor Bitterwolf: "Doctor, do you realize the implications of this?  Spontaneous healing on this
level is physically impossible.  The sheer amount of energy required for such repairs would have
withered her body away.  She certainly hasn't eaten enough to fuel those needs."

Doctor Kats: "As I told you, the reason is even more startling than the result doctor.

Doctor Bitterwolf sat down to take all of this in.

Doctor Bitterwolf: "What of the other one, this Guido Anchovy?"

Doctor Kats: "His tissue damage was much more extensive.  As a result he has not had quite the
same success in recovery."

Doctor Bitterwolf: "Thank God. (He stopped himself) I didn't mean it like that doctor, it's just
that . . ."

Doctor Kats: "I understand doctor, but it's not what you think.  When I say he has not had quite
the same success, I mean that he still has a few scabs on his skin.  I calculate they will be gone
within the hour."

Doctor Bitterwolf sat back dumbfounded.  He was a man of science.  He saw miracles every day.
Miracles of the human spirit, the courage of children going into surgery, the concern of loved
ones for a father, or brother, or mother going under the knife.  He was convinced that these
played an integral role in the success of a patient.  However, he was a man of science.  A miracle
of this nature was more than he was prepared to accept.  And yet he was a man of science, so he
could not ignore the evidence before his eyes.

Doctor Bitterwolf: "Doctor, I don't mind telling you that I don't know what to make of this.
Quite frankly, it scares me."

Mack Scranton, Polly and Speedy, Good Bird, Al Dentei, Officer O'Grady, and Mr. Lipshitz
climbed the elaborate, ornate staircase in the foyer of the Little Tokyo Roxydale Theater on their
way to their private balcony that had been procured for them by Mack through blackmailing the
theater manager with the contents of a plain paper file folder.  Mack walked in the lead, reading a
program and trying his best to ignore his landlord, Mr. Lipshitz.

Mr. Lipshitz: "You forcing that nice young boy to go so much against his nature just so you can
get free tickets to the theater.  You ought to be ashamed of yerself Mackenzie."

Mack: (reading aloud) "Little Tokyo the Musical, a Little Tokyo Propaganda stage production . .
. starring Claud St. Cloud . . . Frederic Stapleton . . . Macbeth Othellowitz?!! <Something that
stupid has got to be a stage name.> . . ."

Mr. Lipshitz: "You pay attention to me when I'm talking to you Mackenzie.  I can tell yer trying
to ignore me and it won't work."

Mack:(reading aloud apprehensively) " . . . Jordan Mikhailovich <Real original pal.> . . . In the
lead of Princess Violet is Diva Fromage Gran . . . complimentary sick bags under the seat . . . in
case of emergency your seat cushion may be placed over your ears to stifle the sound . . . if you
begin to experience heart palpitations pull the panic cord and knockout gas will be pumped into
your immediate vicinity. . ."

Mr. Lipshitz: "Mackenzie!  Schmuck I am losing my patience wit you!"

Mack: (reading aloud in disbelief) " . . . during the second act Little Tokyo the Musical emits
comparatively safe levels of radiation and carbon monoxide when not viewed more than once in
any given thirty day period . . . viewing of Little Tokyo the Musical while pregnant can result in
not more than eighty percent of cases in a serious birth defects . . . aneurysms and/or embolisms
may occur during the aria of the third act . . . side effects of Little Tokyo the Musical can include
headache, loss of limbs, and loss of life . . . the following disclaimer applies."

Mack turned the page and a long roll of paper with very small print on it dropped to the floor and
dragged as he continued to walk.

Mack: <Yowzer!> "I'm beginning to have second thoughts about seeing this musical."

Mr. Lipshitz: "I said PAY ATTENTION!"

With that Mr. Lipshitz began to hit mack repeatedly with his cane.  After the third or forth strike
Mack was able to wrench the cane away from the old man.

Mack: "You hit me with this stick or call me a schmuck one more time and I'm gonna shove the
stick down your eighty year old throat!!!"

Looking past Mr. Lipshitz, Mack saw Princess Violet and her mother, Empress Fredia come
through the door of the theater, cross the foyer, and begin to climb the stairs.  He quickly looked
left, then right, then up, considered for a split second, then whirled around.

Mack: (businesslike) "Good Bird, we have Vi and her mom coming up the stairs, ETA thirty
seconds.  They see you and Vi'll try to marry you again.  We've gotta get you and me up into that
vent on the ceiling stat.  Gimme a leg up."

Good Bird gave Mack a leg up to the vent and he popped it open and pulled himself inside.  He
then reached down and pulled Good Bird in after him.  They replaced the vent cover just as
Princess Violet and Empress Fredia crested the stairs.

Violet: "Hi Big Al!"

Big Al: "Hello your highnesses.  What brings you here?"

Fredia: "Oh, we heard that there's this wonderful little actress playing the part of my little sweety and we
thought we'd come by and take a look."

Violet: "There's no way she could play it as well as I could though."

Big Al: "Of course not, who could improve on the original?"

Speedy: (under his breath) "And who wouldn't want to?"

Violet: (cross) "What was that?"

Speedy: (nervous) "Huh! . . . I said, "Well isn't that true."

Violet: "Oh . . . Well, let's go get our seats momma."

Fredia: "Alright darling, see you later Al."

Violet: "Bye Al."

Big Al: "See you back at the palace."

Violet and Fredia continued down the hall and Speedy breathed out a sigh of relief.

Speedy: "Boy, am I sure glad I watched all those episodes of South Park."

Polly: (annoyed) "Speedy, I really wish you'd stop watching that stupid show."

Speedy: "What?!!  It's a great show!  You see Stan says something rude about the bus driver,
Mrs. Crabtree, and when she turns around and screams, "WHAT WAS THAT!!!" Stan lies about
it and says some nonsensical line that rhymes with it and gets off scot free.  It's GREAT!!!"

Polly: "South Park is the stupidest, most vulgar, obnoxious, and annoying television series that
has ever been made!"

Speedy: "It's really good programming!"

Polly: "It's disgusting, pickle-headed, filth."

Mack: "I like South Park."

Everyone looked up to where Mack was looking down from the vent.  He lowered himself out
feet first and dropped to the floor.  Good Bird followed.

Mack: "South Park is a great show.  It has a character named Big Gay Al on it, now who does
that remind me of?"

Big Al began to growl.

Mack: "Let's see . . . It's a big . . . Al . . . and it's gay.  Ooh, it's on the tip of my tongue."

Big Al's hackle started to raise and his growling increased.

O'Grady: "There now, let's have none o that.  We're here on business, remember."

Big Al looked at Officer O'Grady, then looked back at Mack, gave a snort, and began to stalk
down the hall toward their balcony.

Mack: "By the way Al, I've been meaning to ask you how your wife's been, now what was his
name?"

O'Grady: "Mack, stop it!  I mean it Mack."

Mack held his hands up.

Mack: "OK, ok, I'll hold off . . . for now."

O'Grady: "I suppose that's the best I'm going to get isn't it."

Mack: "I wouldn't give me a chance to change my mind."

O'Grady: "Very well then."

The two of them turned and followed Al to the balcony.

Good Bird (GB): "Well, let's go."

Good Bird and Speedy began to follow the others.  Polly paused for a moment and looked up at
the vent above her head with a puzzled look on her face.

Polly: <Good Bird had to hide, but why did Mack go up there?>

Polly banished the thought and continued after the rest of the group.  When she arrived at the
balcony, Mack, Speedy, Good Bird, Big Al, and Officer O'Grady were all clustered on the left of
the balcony.  The right side of the balcony, the entire right side of the balcony, was taken up by
Hassan.  The theater manager had had the foresight to take them to a balcony that did not have
permanent seats, but rather one of the empty ones.  There was no possible way Hassan could have
fit in a standard theater seat.  He is as wide as Guido is tall.  As is he was sitting cross-legged on
the floor, which was also necessary in that Hassan standing up was half again over Guido's height.
Hassan is a big boy.  The rest of the group sat in folding chairs.  Polly walked over and sat down
in a chair on the end, in-between Speedy and Hassan.

The others were all talking about various things amongst themselves, with the exception of
Hassan who, being mute, couldn't possibly carry on an intelligent conversation despite his
apparent intelligence.  The reason that Polly found this intelligence so apparent was the fact that,
in order to pass the time, Hassan was at the moment reading from a book of Plato.  This was
nothing in of itself, except that the book was written in a language that Polly assumed to be
Greek.  She couldn't read the words, but she knew it to be Plato by the monogram of his picture
on the leather cover.  To his left lay a small pile of books in half a dozen languages.  Polly
recognized Chinese characters, Japanese characters, Russian alphanumerics, arabic, what she
knew to be French from her high school studies, and even one book in English, A Critique of Pure
Reason by Immanuel Kant.  It would be a vast understatement to say that Polly was impressed.

Polly: "Hassan, how many languages can you speak?"

Hassan gave her a look that seemed to say, "Think very hard about what you just said."

Polly: "What I mean is how many languages can you read and write and understand?"

Hassan thought for a moment, then shook his head and started counting on his fingers.  After
having seemingly come to a conclusion, he signed to Mack.

Mack: "I am not a schmuck."

Mr. Lipshitz: "Yer a schmuck."

Mack: "I am NOT a schmuck."

Mr. Lipshitz: "Yer a schmuck."

Mack: "I am not a SCHMUCK!!!"

Mr. Lipshitz: "Yer a schmuck."

Mack was somewhat preoccupied and did not notice Hassan's attempts to gain his attention.
After a second attempt also failed to be noticed Hassan decided to take more substantiative
measures.  Meaning that he curled up the end of his trunk (Seven feet long) and used it to strike
Mack on the top of the head quite hard.  Hard enough that the shock of the blow caused Mack to
slump out of his chair and onto the ground.  He took off his hat and began to rub his head as he
regained his seat.

Mack: "Hassan!  That HURT!!!"

Mr. Lipshitz: "And the lord he shall bring down upon the schmucks his horrible justice, ha-ha."

Mack: "There is no passage ever written in any holy book that is even remotely similar to that
statement you just made."

Hassan held out a book written in arabic to Mack with his trunk.  Mack stared at the book for a
moment.

Mack: " . . . I can't believe I'm about to say this.  Hassan SHUT UP!!!  Now why the hell did you
hit me?"

Hassan signed to Mack.

Mack: "Thirty seven? . . . You hit me so you could say thirty seven to Polly? . . . I should shoot
you, you know that?"

With that Mack took off his hat and flicked it at Hassan's head, beaning him with pinpoint
accuracy.  Hassan signed angrily.

Mack: "Ah read yer book."

Hassan might have, or he might have hit Mack again, when the orchestra began to play.  Hassan
hurriedly packed up his books and took out a mahogany box, out of which he took a pair of
carven ivory opera glasses.  Mack tapped Speedy on the shoulder.

Mack: (under his breath) "How do you like that?  Nimrod carved the things out of his own
stinking tusk no less."

Hassan hit Mack in the head again.

Mack: "WHAT?!!"

Hassan held his finger up to his mouth in a shooshing gesture.

The orchestra continued and the curtain opened.

What followed were three hours of sheer terror and ultimate suffering.  Mack had to be revived
seven times in the first act alone.  He had seriously underestimated the awfulness of the play.
Fortunately, the play also contained several truly brilliant performances by Diva Fromage.
Amazingly these performances had made the play, all in all, a worthwhile experience.  All that
remained was the closing song and dance number, with the Diva front and center.

The horns started up in a rising run and the strings set up a counter melody to offset the melody in
the woodwinds.  The low brass came in, building the tension to a climax, then everything cut off,
the drum set up a strait beat, and a piano solo brought the instrumentalists smoothly into the
opening lines of the Diva's big solo . . .

Diva Fromage: "Start spreadin' the newwwwwwwws.
                         I'm leavin' todaaaaaaaaaaay.
                         I want to be a part of it.
                         Little Tokyooooooooooo.

                         These satin lace shooooooes,
                         Are yearnin' to straaaaaaaaay,
                         I'm gonna be a part of it.
                         Little Tokyoooooooooo.

The music cuts off.

Diva Fromage: "And it's all of it because of . . .

The music comes back in full strength, and builds to an inferno.
Dancers come out from every which direction.
The beat picks up and the percussion starts to swing.
The dancers pose to start their dance, all poised and ready to go.
The orchestra starts sweating from the exertion.
The music reaches a climax and the chorus starts to sing.

Chorus: "Little Tokyo it's a hell of a town.
              The palace in the center and the vendors downtown.
              Little Tokyo it's a fun lovin' town.
              The nightlife and the races at the Tokyo downs."

Diva Fromage: "Oh if we had to chose one city and one city alone,
                         in which to live and which to call our home.
                        Of all the bergs in whole wide world which one would it be?
                        To any who have known her the choice is plain to seeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!
Chorus: "           . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  the choice is plain to seeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!
Barbershop Chorus: " . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . so plain to seeeeeeeee!

Music cuts off.

Diva Fromage: "It's . . ."

Chorus: "Little Tokyo it's a hell of a town!
              The palace in the center and the vendors downtown."

Singer 1: "Little Tokyooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo"
Singer 2: ". . . . . . . . . . . . Little Tokyooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo"
Singer 3: ". . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Little Tokyooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo"

The music stops and a spotlight is thrown onto Diva Fromage.

Diva Fromage: (slowly) "It's a hell of a toooooooooooooowwwwwwwwwwn!"

Music cuts off sharp, and the lights go black.  What followed was a standing ovation, not for the
musical itself, but for the spectacular talent of it's leading lady.  A spotlight lit the stage, and the
Diva, still in her Princess Violet costume, came out to take her bow.  Bushels of roses were
thrown up onto the stage.  Seeing the inspiration for her character sitting in one of the lower
balconies, right up next to the stage, the Diva plucked a rose from among those at her feet and,
with much flourish, tossed the bloom up to the madly clapping princess and her mother.  Violet
caught the rose and the Diva made a special bow toward the royal box.  Princess Violet returned
the bow and the deafening noise in the crowded concert hall tripled with increased fervor of
clapping.  Hassan stood up, or rather rose to his feet and remained hunched over, took a very
deep breath, and let out a trumpeting through his nose the likes of which was even heard over the
thunderous applause.  It was so loud that Polly, Speedy, Good Bird, Mack, Mr. Lipshitz,
O'Grady, and Al all had to cover their ears.

GB:(yelling to be heard) "Mack, I thought you said he was a mute?"

Mack:(also yelling to be heard) "I can assure you that he is not making that sound with his vocal
cords."

Hassan let out another blast and the group was forced to cover their ears again.

Big Al:(yelling)"I understand that this play is a marvelous triumph over impossible material, but I
still fail to see why you brought us here in the first place Scranton."

Mack:(yelling) "Francine and Guido were attacked by Ninja Crows who are operating outside the
Ninja Crows themselves.  The only possible way to find a group of renegade Ninja Crows in the
vastness of the criminal underworld is to find someone who can bridge the two groups together.
To the best of my knowledge, and my knowledge is the best . . . (he stops for a moment to let
another one of Hassan's blasts die down) . . . you can get, there is only one person alive who has
ever been present in Ninja Crow society who was not a Ninja Crow.  This was due to an honor
debt owed to him by the Ninja Crow high master.  (At this point Good Bird's eyes went wide
with realization, and he ran over to the edge of the balcony and looked down at the stage.)"

O'Grady:(yelling) "I fail ta see where yer goin' with this Mack."

Mack: (sighs under his breath, then starts yelling again) "This person also happened to be a
member of a major underworld crime family.  He thus provides us with the perfect bridge between
the two worlds and the only means by which we might find the attackers.  Polly, you studied
French in High School.  Could you please translate into English the meaning of the name,
Fromage Gran?"

Polly: (yelling) "That was years ago, I don't remember that."

GB: (yelling) "It means Big Cheese!"

Everyone looked at him, astonished, with the exception of Mack and Hassan who had known it all
the time.

GB: (yelling) "It has to mean Big Cheese, because that's who I'm looking at!"

Down on the stage center, in a sea of roses, the spotlight shining brightly down, and dressed in
women's clothing, the Diva Seymour "Big" Cheese took a bow.

O'Grady: "Well sweet mother o' Mike.  What do ya think about that."