Chapter 2
A sign on the door said, Adventure Team. None the less, nobody save for a select few clients knew exactly what the Adventure Team did. Inside, seated at the main computer console, was Ron Log; alias, The Messiah Guy. He had earned his nickname from a recent business trip in the Bowanian Jungle where circumstances caused him to find himself running for his life from an angry bull elephant. The pachyderm trampled three villages during the chase which culminated in Ron becoming trapped between the shore of the Nile and the oncoming onslaught. With no other choice, he turned and then ran across the top of the water to the other side. In a failed effort to trample its prey, the elephant followed but unfortunately the surface tension was not enough to maintain the quality of integrity necessary to support the weight of a ten ton mammal, and thus sank into a frenzy of prianha and bubbling blood. All who witnessed the event would swear later that as Ron ran across the surface of the water, he was performing the amazing disappearing quarter trick and by this act alone, from that day forward, he was referred to as The Messiah Guy.
Before computer console #2 sat Frahn Melon. He had never been observed sleeping, ever. Rumor had it that Frahn never left the office, ever.
On console #3 was Clairmont Miller; alias, The Monkey. Aptly named by the most notorious client of the firm, Race Borello, the tough talking omnipresent you-don't-wanna'-see-me-comin'-down-a-dark-alley Italian Mafia Representative. Best damn salesman in the city but if you didn't buy, he'd cut you. Three years ago, when Miller first joined The Adventure Team, Borello came into the office and said, "You! New guy! Where's my project? It was supposed to be finished yesterday and it isn't, and now you're here."
"Gee sir, I'm sorry. I'm new. I don't know anything.
Suddenly, Borello vigorously slapped him across the head. "You don't know nothin'? What are you, a monkey? That's your new name. Monkey!" And so from that day forward, Miller suffered the indignity and shame of the title; Monkey. Usually, folks just called him a faggot, but somehow Monkey cut to the primordial center of insult.
"Well, I'll be shit-licked!" exclaimed Ron as the image of a beautiful spiny fish appeared on the computer screen. "There it is! The only one in the world. This is what we're after, gentlemen. The Mississippi Spiny Fish. Typically, a salt water specimen found in the ocean, but in this case what we're dealing with is a fresh water Mississippi Spiny Fish actually found in the Mississippi River, and that's what makes it so rare. The only other fish of this type known to have existed recently was accidentally eaten at a Girl Scout campout. Though nothing could erase the tragedy of the event, the taste was so sweet and delicate that they made a cookie based on the flavor. Mississippi Spiny Fish and Chocolate Mint has since been their biggest seller." Frahn wheeled over in his chair for a better view.
"What is that long brown object hanging at the tail?" Frahn asked.
"String Poopy!" replied Ron. "This fish is going to make us a vast sum of money. Currently, it is located in the fish tank of one Matheson Avenue, CEO of Matheson Avenue Lemon Ade with a Twist O' Lemon. Unfortunately, as he is one of our clients, a conflict of interest seems to have reared its ugly mother. The challenge is this: How do we get the famous Gem of Life, secretly surgically planted within the fish by the medicine man from the Unka Hunka Tribe of the Amazon without killing the fish, and without Matheson Avenue getting wind of our plans?"
"So what you're saying is that inside of that fish is the famous Gem of Life, rumored to have magical powers which would render the holder of the gem able to perform miracles?" asked Miller.
"That's right, dicky boy. We needs to get that fish without blowing the deal. So the whole thing is to be kept under the table, so to speak. Got that Frahn?"
"Got it." Frahn replied.
"Say it back to me."
"I got it." Frahn restated.
"Say it so I know you have it."
"Under the table." Frahn said, clearly expressing his annoyance at having to precisely reiterate the obvious. That being, he got it.
"Say it to me like this: Say, 'We have to operate under the table so we don't lose our client over a conflict of interest.' Can you say it like that for me?"
"Ok, ok... We have to operate under the table so we don't lose our client over a conflict of interest. I've got it, Ron. Say no more."
"So you're saying that you are absolutely sure you understand what I'm saying, and the importance of this? Because I don't want to have to come back to this and tell you I told you so."
"I'm sure."
"And I won't have to say, I told you so?" Asked Ron.
"No. I won't blow it."
"Say that you're sure. Say, 'I'm Sure, Ron.'"
"Look!" Frahn said. "When I tell you I'm sure once, I mean it. That's all you need to hear. I'm hearing what you're saying. I got it."
"Yeah, but say, 'I'm Sure, Ron'. Just for me, so I know."
"Ok! I'm SURE, RON! Are you happy now?"
There was a long pause as Ron studied Frahn to be sure he understood. When he was satisfied his point had been made about not blowing the deal with Matheson Avenue, about not talking about the fish or their plans to get it, get the gem, and sell it to the highest bidder, which would be indeed an adventure and thus one of the many reasons the business was called, The Adventure Team, and when Ron was absolutely sure that Frahn had no way to misinterpret his earlier words of intending to make sure it was in no way revealed what they were going to do regarding Matheson Avenue, owner of the fish, and also that Matheson in no way knew the power of the Gem of Life or he certainly would have put it to use right away along with cashing in on the value of the fish, and remember that The adventure Team cares deeply for fish, Ron then said, "Yes."
And then Ron said, "Oh. And Frahn... your mother."
Turning to his computer console, Ron gave the command: "Alrighty boys, power up! We're going to Nebraska!" Frahn and Clairmont entered several commands into their interconnected computer system and the engines on the sides of the building emerged from their concealed locations and started up. Soon thereafter, the entire office building lifted off into the sky and flew Westward to the home of Matheson Avenue.
In a small clearing, a lovely little girl of recently eight years old was playing with her new baby kitten, Buttons, which she had just received as a birthday present from her parents. The delicate and gentle kitten purred softly with each tender stroke of its fur that Little Betty performed. Placing the kitten int he soft grass, she backed off about ten feet and crouched down to call Buttons and see if she would come.
"Here, Buttons." Little Betty called out. "Here, kitty kitty kitty."
"Mew." The kitten said, sweetly.
"Come, Buttons. I love you. You're my best and only friend in the whole wide world."
Suddenly, the sound of several large screaming jet engines pierced the silence of the meadow and a gigantic flying office building plummeted downward toward the kitten and landed with a thunk on Button's screaming little skull. The office door opened and Clairmont Miller peered out.
"You pressed the wrong button, Frahn. We're back on the ground again."
"I told you," Ron shouted from within, "The blue one! I said the blue botton!" As Miller backed in and shut the door, the structure revved up again and lifted into the sky and out of sight.
"My kitten!" Little Betty screamed as she ran to the red steaming puddle of pussy.