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here?" I wanted to know.
"Foreskin." "Huh?" "Got prints for us. Foreskin." I was baffled. "I don't understand." "Street informant. Foreskin. Usually stays in Baltimore. Saw the news. Had a hunch. Came down here. Got a job. Here. Worked one day. Served drinks and hamburgers. Lifted a glass. Got some prints." "You mean that Fore" I hesitated, "Foreskin is a person?" "Street informant. Lumpkin Foreskin. Works for us. Worked here." Suddenly, I realized who he was talking about. "What? You mean Lumpy?" and then I started to laugh. "His last name is Foreskin? He never told us! He just went by Lumpy! Jeez! Lumpy Foreskin! What a name!" Special Agent Fewmits looked grim and squinted his eyes again. "Lumpkin" he said. "OK, whatever," I managed to stop laughing, "whatever you say. He told us his name was Lumpy! He never told us his last name." I tried hard not to laugh but a grin did escape me. Special Agent Fewmits looked grim so I tried to settle down and look serious but Lumpy Foreskin was a lot to swallow, if you don't mind me saying it that way. That thought almost set me to laughing again. "Suspect left his VW near the lab." "What?" I asked. "Idaho. Six years ago," he reminded me. "Oh, yeah," I replied. "Left prints on it. Match the ones from Foreskin's glass. Want to talk to him." "Well, I haven't seen him since he left. So far as I know, he didn't leave a name or a forwarding address. Have you tried the court in Alpine?" "No time," he said. "Provide backup tomorrow. Seattle. Sphincter's case." "Sphincter?" I asked, completely taken by surprise. "Agent Cloaca Sphincter." "You have an agent named Cloaca Sphincter?" I asked. Fewmits looked even more grim than before. "Partner. Mine. Perky little thing. Smart as a whip. Degree in Veterinary Science. Knows all there is to know about animals. Investigate squirrel killings. Seattle. Tomorrow." "Squirrel killings?" I asked. "The FBI investigates squirrel killings?" "Assumed jurisdiction. Retro bar. Sixties clothes. Sixties music. Surveillance microphones. Men's room. Overheard men bragging. Shooting squirrels. Inside city limits. Illegal." "Squirrels shooting squirrels? Sixties styles? You mean, like, miniskirts?" "Yes." Jesus! I couldn't help laughing at that! Shooting squirrels! Miniskirts! Of course the guys were shooting squirrels! I'd do the same thing myself. Hadn't these daffy agents ever heard of men shooting squirrels or women flipping beaver? I don't know, maybe the phrases are out-of-date. "Sphincter's case," he continued. "Wear miniskirt. Pose as hippie. Code name Starflower Moonbright." That was a good one. I tried not to laugh. "Good luck," I said, "I don't know anything about the guy you want." "Hear something, contact superior." "Who?" "Deputy Director Egress," he elaborated. "Who again?" "Colon Egress. FBI Deputy Director." I couldn't help laughing just a little, but I kept it short. Fewmits seemed to be very serious about all of this. However, I couldn't help wondering. Is this the bunch that investigates crimes in this country? Fewmits laid a business card on the bar. I picked it up and, sure enough, printed on the card was Deputy Director Colon Egress, FBI, BFD. "Doesn't take calls personally. Secretaries." "He has more than one?" "Fanny Douche," he said, "and Jenna Talia." I've heard a lot of weird things in the Barn so I've learned self control. I didn't laugh until he was gone but I did have some difficulty keeping a straight face and talking in a normal voice. "If I hear anything, I'll give them a call." He walked out and I had a good story to tell to my regular customers that evening. For PayPal payments, use editor@frontiersman.my3website.net.
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Acknowledgments My thanks to the following: SantaClara Bob; Lady Jan the Voluptuous; Lord Jeffrey the Studious; my mother; Ernie and Claire, of Show Low, Arizona; Jules, of Tucson, Arizona; and Sir Donald the Elusive. editor
Classes for Men Original Source Unknown. Forwarded by Don G.
Reasons for Men to be Cheerful Original Source Unknown. Forwarded by Don G.
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