Good evening. My name is Gigi the parti poodle and I was running a bit late, but I am here and ready to introduce chapter twenty-four of my story Certified Sadistic Accountant. As you may know, last week my novelist and I were more than happy to find out Foreigner is finally going to be inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. I was so excited about it I decided to pen ala Weird Al and Twisted Tunes, a different take on one of the group’s biggest songs. Here it goes,

Well, I’m, hot mailing

Click it and see

I’ve got a letter burning inside of me

Come on baby, do you do more than text?

I’m hot mailing, I’m hot mailing

You don’t have to read my font

To know what I really want

Honey, you ought to scroll

Now you type so fine

Let me read another line

I want to see

What attachment you’re sending me

Now it’s up to you

We can leave a bad product review

Just me and you

I’ll show you trolling like you never knew

That’s why I’m hot mailing

Click it and see

I’ve got a letter burning inside of me

Come on baby, do you do more than text?

I’m hot mailing, I’m hot mailing

If it feels alright

Maybe we could Zoom all night.

Shall I send you my link?  

But you’ve got to click on that key.

Come on, girl. Click the send key.

Tell me, are you hot mailing?

Inbox looks that way to me.

Are you old enough?

Will you be phishing when I call your bluff?

Is my texting right?

Will you send your dirty pics tonight?

Well I’m, hot mailing

Click it and see

I’ve got a letter burning inside of me

Come on baby, do you do more than text?

I’m hot mailing, I’m hot mailing

Now it’s up to you

We can write a bad product review

Oh, before we do

You’ll have to block and unfriend you know who

Well, I’m, hot mailingI

Click it and see

I’ve got a letter burning inside of me

Come on baby do you do more than text

I’m hot mailing, I’m hot mailing

Hot mailing, every night

Hot mailing, you’re emoji’s so tight

Hot mailing, you’re texting me wild

Hot mailing, I’m so sexting you, child

Hot mailing, I’m a little bit geek

Hot mailing, you’re a little bit freaked

Hot mailing, you’re making me pog

Hot mailing, for your sweet, sweet blog

Did you read what I wrote?

And with that thought, here is chapter twenty-four of Certified Sadistic Accountant. Rock on!

Certified Sadistic Accountant

by

Gigi the parti poodle

Chapter Twenty-Four

Curtis huddled in his breakfast nook watching his round vintage-style wall clock. His clock had a silent sweep non-ticking quartz movement. But he heard the seconds marking off time in his head. He’d been sitting there for almost two hours hoping the police officer hadn’t followed him and was parked outside. His plan was to leave in a few minutes and blend in with traffic. However, it was Saturday and there wouldn’t be many cars on the road until around ten or eleven. He sipped the coffee he’d made with his espresso machine. Mr. Dupree was right about one thing: coffee should be made with whole beans and ground to order.

For some reason he started wondering what happened to all the coffee grounds once they were used and discarded. He figured some ended up being spared and turned into potting soil. But how many ended up in garbage dumps paved over with a golf course built on top? All those grounds trapped like prisoners with no dirt to fertilize. They would sit there for decades, centuries even. Curtis took another sip of his coffee. If he’d just not fallen asleep, he would have made it to the mailbox in the middle of the night. Maybe even beat the prowler. The policeman wouldn’t have walked up to his car and asked for his license and registration. He looked at the second hand on the clock. It glided past twelve. After it glided past twelve again, he would get up and leave.

When Curtis had pulled into his driveway at 6:40 AM, he’d noticed the red Ford Fiesta still parked in Earl’s driveway. Maybe his neighbor wasn’t as lonesome as he thought. The second-hand glided past twelve. He rose from the table and quietly stepped outside. As he turned to lock the door to his duplex, Earl and the woman with the long dark brown hair, short skirt and tennis shoes stepped outside onto Earl’s porch as well. Curtis told himself to act naturally as if he was heading off to do something ordinary for the weekend. He would not greet them. He would let them greet him first, act like he was focused on his normal weekend plans. Oddly, all Earl did was wave and after a moment Curtis realized Earl and the woman were not on friendly terms. There was tension between them. Curtis waved back, climbed into his pale green Honda Accord, and backed out into the street.

Curtis looked around the neighborhood as he headed for the main arterial. He scanned the streets trying to see if anyone was following him. He didn’t see any police prowlers around. He checked his rearview mirror. No one was behind him. He continued forwards.

He pulled up to the stop light to turn right onto the street that headed towards the mall. He turned on the radio and when he looked up in the rearview mirror, he saw a police car. Curtis froze, rattled. Breathe deep, he told himself. Just drive. Curtis gripped the steering wheel tightly; he flipped on the turn signal as his eyes peered to the left to see if anyone was coming. He turned cautiously and headed down the hill. He looked up in his rearview mirror. The prowler was on his tail. Curtis drove at the speed limit. Take it easy, he told himself. Stay nonchalant. Down the hill, past the eateries, and on to the mall. The prowler kept right on his tail. Stay calm and think, he told himself.

As he drove forwards, he saw the lights on the railroad track come on. He slowed to a stop and checked the rearview mirror. The prowler’s tinted windows made it difficult to see the driver. The sound of the train’s signal was deafening. He wondered if the officer was taking down his license plate as he waited for the train to pass.

As the last car went by, Curtis noticed another prowler sitting on the opposite side of the tracks. His heart began beating faster. He waited for the bar to lift. Then he crawled over the tracks and continued forwards. The prowler on the opposite side passed him and made a right turn towards the little lunch shack at the end of the street. The prowler behind him continued following his Honda. Curtis decided he was being paranoid. There were police cars everywhere. He was overthinking what happened last night.

Curtis drove over the bridge and out towards the mall. He glanced in his rearview mirror. He saw a second prowler two cars back. Did the other prowler turn around and start following him? He was tempted to speed up, but the first police car was right on his tail. He passed the mall and headed towards the turnoff to the lake. He stopped at the light. He looked around to see if there were any other police cars. Then he turned right and continued towards the lake. The police prowler turned with him. And after a moment the other prowler turned and stayed behind him as well. He needed an alternate destination.

He would head back and stop at the gas station. He drove a couple of blocks and then got into the right turn lane. He saw the two prowlers merge into the right turn lane behind him. He continued down the road to the gas station across from the mall and pulled in. As he did the two prowlers drove past the gas station and back the way he’d come. Were they on to him, Curtis thought?

Mr. Dupree set Sheriff Bob’s coffee and biscotti on the dining room table.

“Thanks, Dal,” Sheriff Bob said. It’s been a long night.”

“Did we receive a second ransom note giving us further instructions?”

“No, we did not.”

“Did your guy out there see anyone?”

“Just some twenty-something kid coming home from a date.”

“Is your guy sure that’s what he was doing?”

“Nope. That’s why he took down the kid’s license and registration. We’ll run it through our system to see if his name comes up with anything. I also had another one of my guys follow him to his house.”

“My daughter could be lying in a ditch somewhere.”

“Or not. You need to keep your head here, Dal.”

“Fia has been gone an entire day. Almost two.”

Mrs. Dupree walked into the dining room. She was a visible wreck but kept her composure. “Do you have any leads?” she asked.

“None yet,” Sheriff Bob said. “There was a young man the officer saw parked out on the street early this morning. My guy got his license and registration. We’ll run it through our system. Probably won’t come up with anything but you never know.”

Mrs. Dupree nodded. “It isn’t like Fia to disappear for days like this.”

“Do you think it’s possible she ran into some friends from high school on spring break too? A lot of them are around town right now.”

“No, Fia was supposed to be taking the place of Dallas’s receptionist who went to Palm Springs this week. Fia was excited about the job and is a responsible young woman. She would not just take off.”

Sheriff Bob took another sip of his coffee. “Do you know if she was seeing anyone?”

“No…although she did always like that kid who was in marching band.”

“She did not,” Mr. Dupree snapped.

“Yes, Dallas, she did.”

“He was an odd little troll. Always wearing vests. You got to look out for boys who wear vests.”

Mrs. Dupree rolled her eyes. “But I still don’t think she ran off with friends or went to see a boy.”

“So, you believe the ransom note to be legitimate?”

“Yes. Absolutely.”

Sheriff Bob nodded. “I’m going to have my guy head home in another hour. I’ll send a new one to watch from the house. I think we need to consider doing a stakeout.”

MY BOOKS

You can check out my books Chicane and all five installments of the Musicology book series Musicology: Volume One, Baby!, Musicology: Volume Two, Kid!, Musicology: Volume Three, Twist!, Musicology: Volume Four, Sweetie! and Musicology: The Epiquad on Amazon in Kindle and Paperback editions. You can also check out Musicology’s web site at www.musicologyrocks.com and vote for who you think will win Musicology!

STREAM OF THE WEEK: THE PEZ OUTLAW (2022)-NETFLIX

It’s always a pleasure to come across a documentary that is fun and engaging to watch and this week’s pick fits the bill. This is one of those biographical stories that screams out to be made into a major motion picture. I can’t imagine any actor who wouldn’t want the lead role. And his wife Kathy, son Josh and the villain would be stellar parts too.

Steve Glew is a bit of an oddball. But he’s smart and always thinking of ways to make money. When he was younger, he used to buy kid’s cereals (the more sugar the better) and send away for free items advertised on the back of the box. He ordered so many of them the cereal companies had to start printing “one item per customer”. Steve is a collector himself…of the cereal boxes. But as for the toys, he sold those at toy conventions as a side-hustle. It was a way to make extra money since his 9-5 job as a machinist, an occupation which he was clearly over-qualified for, didn’t pay nearly as well.  

Then one day he found the holy grail of small toys: the Pez dispenser. And he had to get his hands on them. A lot of them. And he did…in Russia. He found that the factories there made Pez dispensers the United States Pez company rejected. But these rejected toys were worth thousands to American collectors. Thus began Steve’s odyssey as a smuggler of Pez dispensers and the egomaniac US Pez CEO, better known as the “Pezident”, who would do whatever it took to stop him.