Down at the Tiki Room

The party was going swimmingly. There had been a clown that bent balloons into animals for all the children and I had worked up a little magic act for a mid-party break. Just after a failed attempt at a game of hop-scotch, the legless toddlers rolled around until they rested in cozy nested clumps and dropped off with heavy Z's as my partner in crime, Bonnie, softly hummed a sweet and lilting lullaby.

I sidled up to the bamboo covered bar, neath a thatch roof overhang and ordered a tall frothy Mai-Tai complete with paper parasol. Bonnie, a tropical vision with her grass skirt and double D clam shells, reflected through the smoky mirror behind the bar. I threw back my drink, then picking up my pretty pink umbrella, I began to spin it inches from my nose. Just beyond the turning paper edge was my Polynesian pixie deep in some form of hula interpretive dance as she sang something about twinkling stars and then I fell into a trance. I was daydreaming about itty bitty legs and wondered who could have taken them all. I wondered if it had anything to do with that creepy little girl who drove that white van as she tried pushin' flakey treats on all the youngins, hmmm, or maybe I was just craving a slice of tootie-fruity cream ambrosia. Anyway it may have been moments later but seemed like an hour, when my daze was disturbed.

Either Bonnie had done a quick change or some serious time had elapsed. I broke from my dream to the sound of shouts and babies screaming and there stood Bonnie, dressed as a Catholic school girl, machine gun in hand in a Mexican stand off with a raccoon in dark glasses. The only thing that made this goon bigger then the kids was his legs which should have been a tip off to the muscle operating the velvet rope. The chump wasn't welcome! The only thing I could figure was maybe he scooted in on his rump.

Man I was lost, couldn't get my bearings so I asked the bartender what was what. He said Bonnie'd been running about crazy, like a drooling baby with a large crayon in her hand, writing obscene verse on the walls when the children became restless. She decided to take the stage and do a sexy version of, "Yes Sir That's My Baby". He went on saying, the piano was hot and the kiddies were cooing. The intro had played through and she was just about to open her mouth when that furry varmit had busted in, flashing a badge and waving a gun. Then, he said, in a single ninja move, our chanteuse sprung to the rafters overhead and came down packing a automatic weapon ready to rid the joint of vermin. The wailing began and I guess that's when I came to.

Immediately the fierce furry fiend screamed "F.B.I." Most of the infants, unable to crawl, had rolled under the tables for cover, fearing a gangland style shootout, then the room froze, me included.

He said, "Relax! No one here is in trouble, I just have a couple a questions."

We all breathed a collective sigh of relief then the song started back up as Bonnie went on with her song. Her plaid skirt was swinging back and fourth and her pigtails bounced to the beat. The kiddies went about playing patty-cake to the music cause footsies was out of the question.

I intercepted our musky intruder at the center of the dance floor and gently guided him over to the end of the bar. I asked if I could get him anything to wet his whistle. He declined saying he was on the clock but I thought I smelled Whiskey on his breath. I didn't quite trust the beast and wasn't keen on the way he eyed my girl.

I said, "Okay, all right, lets get to it then. What's on your mind, Sparky?"

"I'm lookin' for a mime, he seems to be outta his box."

"So you thought you check down here at a kiddie party.", I said, "All right, fair enough."

I didn't really take a shining to the guy. I thought he was a bit of a wiseacre. I told him the only clown at this shindig was of the red haired, big-shoed variety and if he wanted to question him, he could most likely find him passed out, face down, in the garbage in the back alley.

He thanked me, handed off a card and said, "If you think of anything and I mean anything, Give Me A Call!" He punctuated that last part by tapping hard on my chest.

Winking at Bonnie, he turned and walked out with a spasm, as if the club's strobe was having an ill effect on him. I looked down at the card, and it said; Aunt Rose, Agent for the Federal Bureau of Investigation.