Humor
For the Love of Adult Snow Globes and Well-Pressed Pants
The Naked Assassin — Part 3
Mantuno took the dough and wandered out back. I could hear her on the phone. She was saying something about a “Jeff” or a “JF.” I couldn’t really make it out. I moved to the back of the store, and stood behind a rack of adult novelty snow globes. She was not happy with this “Jeff,” whoever he was. I leaned in to hear more, but she suddenly hung up and barged back into the store. I tried to look nonchalant.
“You sell many of these, ah… globes?”
Mantuno had the look of a wildebeest at a retirement party.
“You need to leave, Mr. Thomas!”
I tried to cool her out. I used my “calm” voice.
“Children — call me Children.”
“SCRAM, CHILDREN!”
“Sure, just tell me who bought the card.”
I wasn’t planning to leave without the info I paid for, but then I heard a voice behind me.
“Hey, Buddy! Ms. Mantuno said that it was time to go!”
I turned around and saw a mountain of a guy, wearing a black coat, black hat, and holding a big black club. I tried the charm again.
“O.K. pal, my name is Children, and there is no problem here.”
“Well, Children, my name is Bonzo, and I’m the problem here.”
This was the part of the job that I hated most, the fighting part. It amazed me that people hadn’t yet figured out a way to resolve conflict without violence. It was a difficult question that I really did not have time to ponder as the big guy came at me.
“Look, Bonzo, can’t we discuss this?”
I gathered from the wild swinging of his club that the answer was “no.” I dodged left and grabbed a bunch of snow globes.
“Don’t make me throw these.”
The snow globe threat had no effect, and he kept swinging. I ducked behind a rack of out-of-season chotskies and gift wrap.
He slammed the club, and bows went flying. Slam! Colored tissue paper ahoy. Slam! A whole row of bearded Santa mugs hit the floor.
“You better stop him or you’ll be out of inventory,” I called out to Mantuno.
Mantuno shrugged, “eh, it’s all clearance.”
Slam. A whole shelf of imported ceramic elf shoes, gone. Those looked expensive. I think it finally dawned on Mantuno that if Bonzo kept going she’d have a lot to pick up, so she called him off.
“That’s enough, Bonzo!”
Mantuno walked over and took the snow globes from me.
“These are mine, and now you go.”
I left Mantuno’s and headed over to City Hall. Bobby, the Records Clerk owed me a favor for fixing a problem he had with his dry cleaner. He was happy to see me and greeted me with a bear hug. He was crazy strong for a guy who was only 5'4".
“Children! Check out the crease in these slacks!”
Bobby stepped back and gave a little twirl to show off his well-pressed slacks.
“Looks great, Bobby,” I said while regaining my breath.
“Ever since you sorted out my dry cleaner, my slacks have been tight!’”
“Glad to hear. Let me ask you: you hear anything about a ‘Jeff’ or ‘JF’ mixed up with the Ganoosh family?”
“Yeah, there’s that company, J.F. Inc. They sell all the jet parts to Ganoosh Air.”
“Mind if I could take a look at their papers?”
“Anything for you, Children!”
Bobby brought out the file on JF, Inc., which, surprise surprise, was owned by a guy named “Jeff,” Jeff Frost. I figured I needed pay a visit to Mr. Frost.
“Thanks, Bobby… and nice pants.”
[to be continued…]
