(The G-Team: Goes Film Noir)
Film Noir Style…
Film noir is a style of American filmmaking from the 1940s’ and 50’s characterized by detective protagonists, seedy settings, shadowy lighting, and a fatalistic tone.
Some of it was good, real good…Think Sam Spade and The Maltese Falcon, think shadowed scenes and Double Indemnity.
But, this recount isn’t one of the those great stories.
This is the other kind of Film Noir…
The kind of gritty tale told only by D-movie writers or maybe burnt-out Twilight Zone devotees.
The kind of shady saga narrated by a street-worn detective, who makes you want to laugh and cry at the same time and maybe punch him a few times.
It’s a story where the thugs are bad and the writing is worse, where guys are guys and gals are gals and the confused have no place, a story that is dark and seedy and reeks of the blackness of a name, like Noir, which means, black.
It’s a story for our time and that time is now or whenever you read it.
As you read this story, it works best if you just embrace your inner 1940’s cheap-novel detective and haul out your best Sam Spade voice.
Because this is a story we all gotta hear at some time in our lives…
The story of good and evil,
the story of nice and naughty,
the story of upright and bad,
the story of write and writing gone so wrong.
So, don your Sam Spade fedora and flip up the collar of your trench coat…
> Oh, yeah, and turn your Sound: On (low) and follow the prompts for music cues and also scope out the reference guide at the end, if you need it to decipher the gumshoe and almost-pop culture lingo.
Because, yeah, this is the story about…
The G-Team…
Fighting music crime from aloft and a loft,
for America,
because someone had to do it
and they were the ones to step in it.
[Press /\ …Sound on Low]
Under the guise of being the St. Gertrude Catholic Church Contemporary Music Ensemble…
…six seemingly innocuous individuals, posing as church musicians, join for what appears to be rehearsals and service music at a quiet Midwestern church on Sunday evenings.
But, in reality, the team of six is a famous law enforcement and investigation team, cracking cases nationwide, nabbing the most dangerous and diabolical criminals known to man, and they do it all to stop the insidious and sinister horror of music crimes.
This team, The G-Team, is the Midwest base for a wide web of music crime intelligence and law enforcement teams.
They work as a single stellar crime-fighting unit, but join forces with national teams and the CIA to take down major music crime rings when needed.
To understand how lethal this team is, one must know the individuals, the clever and almost musically talented teammates, who comprise the most famous music crime-fighting team in the nation…
Press /\ …Sound on LOW, Select & Press icon for Intro Music…and READ…
The team–
Lulu Voluptchuz:
When you meet Lulu, you think you’ve merely met a style icon and queen of accessorizing and you wouldn’t be completely wrong. But, many made the mistake of thinking that was all this doll was.
Yeah, Lulu was more than that, far more…more than just a dressy bird, more than just the kind of dame you saw on the front cover of a D-rated romance novel.
Lulu was tough, like steel, like flint, like the resilience of a gel manicure with the glitter. And, behind those business-like glasses was a calculating mind, the kind that had a barefaced man figured out before he even speaks and a gaze that made a weak thug unable to speak without the aid of a stiff drink. That’s how good she was.
Posing as the church ensemble’s soprano, Lulu handled Logistics and Acquisitions for the team.
And, when you are the Logistics and Acquisitions Agent for a music crime-fighting team, Lulu had the kind of smarts and toughness that worked. But, if her intellect wasn’t enough…well, let’s just say she has lived up to her last name. When her glasses came off, she let her hair down and it was clear she was all woman. And, yeah, she was as easy on the eyes as she was with her virtue…
Acquisitions could be made easier with those kind of eyes and hair and legs that didn’t quit, unless she stopped walking. She could get the team anything they needed, no matter how rare an item was or how dangerous it was to acquire. The team’s Lulu was really quite the lulu, but that’s another story…
Precious Migh:
Don’t let that pretty face or those straight stocking seams on her getaway sticks – or her name fool you. Precious may pose as a sweet, innocent-looking musician for the church ensemble, but then that’s her cover. Precious is as Precious does and this writer means those precious words.
By the time Precious had heard, “Well, aren’t you precious?” for the 1 millionth time, she was hardened, tough even, well-honed, but she was sharp, too.
She had the kind of savvy that made her wise to the ways of the world and keen to language, both spoken and unspoken. Yeah, she was a kitten who could read body language like she could dig into an easy-read novel and her brilliance allowed her to understand any language that bore a resemblance to an ethnic restaurant take-out menu. She could turn a phrase and she could turn a word and she could turn a language with the speed of a portly figure skater executing an axel. That’s how good she was.
For the team, she is the Communications Specialist and her undercover disguise as the church ensemble flautist included her style of firearm, her flute. But, the flute, in her hands, is more than music …it is a weapon. Her flute serves as the vehicle for sending-receiving coded messages to their team, the CIA and to the nationwide music crime agency. When they needed to get word to each other or to the national web of music crime-fighting teams anywhere, at any time, at any moment, in any situation, from any location and in any language, you could count on all that is Precious.
For Precious, her years of enduring the kind of bad puns and jokes that come with a name, like Precious, gave her that edge that made her right for the team, made her wise to any mode of communicating and probably prepared her for what would come when her name was listed –alphabetically –by last name –after the movie, The Lord of The Rings, was released. But, that’s another story…
James-pause-James Cahn:
You want to think that his name has a typo, but you’d be wrong. You see, James-pause-James had a lifelong ambition to follow in the footsteps of his idol, a 007 agent, who was always notoriously introduced as …James…………..James Bond. He figured having that intro built into his name would help grease the skids toward his ultimate goal.
His team role is the group Front Man, a Master of Disguise and Stealth Agent.
You could think of him as the James Bond of church music ensembles, if you weren’t too particular and had really low standards.
He posed as the church ensemble guitarist, but inside that iconic guitar case was an array of his kind of weapons: disguises, smokes, tuxedos, bean-shooters and also a cheap guitar he played, played when he felt like it, and played with increasing speed if it suited him.
But, that’s who he was, a lone wolf, a maverick, a guy unconcerned with the mundane worries of any tempo. James—James thrilled for the adventure, thrived on the danger, longed for risks, and lived for jeopardy and other prime time shows, and he survived by the seat of his wit. That’s how good he was.
The team sometimes called him, Face, because he was clever with a disguise and had the kind of face that could make undiscerning women melt and dupable men believe anything he said. He was a sleuth who could bump gums with the best of them, quick with his charming wit, with a wink and with his laugh, a loud bass laugh that rumbled floors and made children stare.
James—James was renowned as the best inside man in the world. If it was info you wanted and you needed the dirt fast, James—James was just the guy to get dirty. He was also known for not leaving a cheap shot untaken, which says all one needs to know about his handgun skills. He also liked shiny things, but that’s another story…
C. Mathias Strange:
The C. Is for Caspar, but his pale skin had led to unfortunate jokes in his early years, so he switched to using his middle name.
And, he had a reputation. Sure, some of his reputation had to do with his sense of humor, because he made the kind of jokes wise guys are prone to make, the kind that made you want to sock him and also his parents just for birthing him, the kind that made your ears smack you for listening, the kind that made you envision his demise if the team didn’t almost like him.
Yeah, some of his rep had to do with his ability to snag any older, wealthy broad he wanted, as long as she was at least partially deaf. But, the world of Intel knew of him more for his wizardry with all things technical and analytical.
He posed as the bass guitarist for the ensemble, but that well-polished bass wasn’t just a bass. Inside that shiny exterior was a network of computer magic, dinguses and team devices that would make the NCIS set designer drool.
He was the team’s Math Analyst/Technical Specialist…
…and he could crack, hack and attack data better than the rest. They would have called him, The Cracker, but decided against that and so they called him, Math, short for Mathias, but also for one of his best weapons…yeah, math.
And he was called “Math” for good reason. He had skills, mad skills, the kind of skills that could crack encryptions from any cereal box, the kind of skills envied by every kid with a decoder ring, the kind that made him a menace to every evil music crime ring in the nation.
Yeah, Math, that’s how good he is. So good, that on some capers, they called him, Captain Math or even Major Math, and fittingly he had been a math major. Sometimes, ladies also called him General Math. They’d all had General Math. But, that’s another story…
Peaches LaBoomBoom:
Peaches…yeah, Peaches. Peaches poses as the “Entertainment Coordinator” for a chain of low budget retirement communities by day and church back-up vocalist on Sundays.
Don’t let the retirement community title fool you. At a low budget retirement community, the entertainment coordinator isn’t some mere traveling dame with a karaoke machine. She was the chain’s stripper act and just the kind of doll you wanted in a place where the audience is oblivious and doesn’t see so well.
Yeah, she was that level of good. To the rest of the world, Peaches looks harmless and like everyone’s nana. But, while this Grammie might look as though she could only bake cookies — and she does, Peaches is renowned for the ability to talk down the most vile criminals, mediate any hostage situation, strike advantageous deals with any perp, and make any bad guy regret capturing her with just her jaw-flapping alone.
And, those cookies of hers…yeah, they’re lethal. We’re talking deadly, like toxic, like noxious, like really unhealthy. Sure, she could make good cookies and she did for the team, but when she wanted to use those cookies to fight crime, she could bake off any thug. All she and the team needed to do was remember which of her cookie jars had the good cookies and which one had the lethal ones, because Peaches is the kind of dame, who can’t always keep her cookie jars straight.
You’d be right if you guessed Peaches is the team’s Negotiator and Assassin, because that’s how it is.
Peaches…Yeah, that’s the name she uses. Sure, that is her stripper stage name, but she stuck with it, because that’s the kind of persistence she was known for, the kind of grit that gets the job done, the kind of tenacity that made you think of Velcro, the kind of doggedness that comes to mind when you look at her.
Her given name was- Magnolia Ezielay, which also might have made her stripper stage name seem like the better idea, but that’s another story…
And their leader…
Sythe A. Bossman (The Boss):
Sythe (pronounced “Sith”, short i)…with a name like that, you knew he was strong. You could feel it and you could see it and you could smell it after Taco Tuesday.
Sythe may pose as a mild-mannered music teacher at a parochial school by day and the director of the seemingly innocent-looking contemporary ensemble on Sundays, but, don’t let the rugged Boy Scout looks and dull expression fool you.
Sythe is the sly and cunning Team Leader and Weapons Specialist.
Sythe…Yeah, Sythe…This was the kind of guy who didn’t need a hero’s cape, he was the kind of ace that defined tough and defied danger, the kind of champ who could be a drum major at an all-boy school and not only survive it unscathed, but also date women. Yeah, that’s how good he was.
No one had to tell you how tough he was, because everyone just knew it as soon as they met him. And, yeah, Chuck Norris calls him and Sythe puts him on hold.
This was the kind of guy who could outwit any pea-brain criminal. And, that was just the kind of man you wanted for a crack team of this kind. Shrewd, capable, dangerous and an uncanny ability to develop the involved plots necessary to nab the type of dark perps in the seamy underbelly of the music crime world.
Besides being the team’s brilliant leader, plotting the team’s tactical and intelligence maneuvers, Sythe is also their weapons mastermind.
That keyboard he sorta plays…yeah, not just a purveyor of organic and melodic sounds. Behind the array of buttons, levers and gizmos lie the most lethal and adaptable components that morph into a veritable arsenal of weaponry. With the flick of a few switches, assuming some grade school musical hadn’t jammed anything vital, Sythe can arm his entire team with cutting edge weapons.
And, that’s the other reason, his team calls him, The Boss.
And, in case you wonder about the A. in his name, his middle name is an old family name, Allus, but he won’t use it. A tough guy, like him, has the kind of swag that means he won’t be called Sythe Allus, but that’s another story…
This time their caper tells of a case when The G-Team was on their own and it was serious crime, but a seemingly small operation, a criminal genius perpetrating music crimes across the nation.
That’s where this story begins…
Press /\ …Sound on LOW, Press for G-Team Theme…and READ…
It was a rainy night.
The air hung still, still like the dust under a church organ peddles, still like the aerobics tape library in a nursing home, still like the soft drink tent at a Catholic Church summer festival.
Yeah, it was kinda still and it was wet, soaking wet like a toddler diaper in a kiddie pool, wet like…yeah, you get it. It was pretty wet.
The CIA had just contacted the team to brief them on a case involving national security secrets and weapons.
The team’s main contact for the CIA, Grace, got messages to Precious precisely and quickly…fast enough to impress a fast gal, like Precious. Always one to encourage excellent work from team mates, Precious complimented her with a speedy reply, “That was amazing, Grace.” Math promptly thanked her for saying, Grace.
The CIA reported an unusual trail of small petty crimes and suspicious activity that seemed to oddly coincide with the traveling of a Special Requiem Envoy.
The Special Requiem Envoy was hired by the Catholic Church to provide music for celebrity Catholic funerals and requiem Masses nationally.
The Special Requiem Envoy travelled across the nation, wherever a high profile archbishop, bishop or celebrity-status funeral was held to assure the Catholic Church was musically well-represented for services likely to be televised.
It was rare for the Catholic Church to invest much money in their music, but image had become a concern for the Church and celebrity Catholic funerals were an opportunity for burying old stigmas.
The Envoy was comprised of an ensemble of traveling priests and nuns, who were led by a Sister, who often flew to their varied destinations ahead of her group to assess each funeral’s needs. The flying nun preferred to assess the ground game necessary for each burial in advance.
The members of the G-Team were assigned to dig to the bottom of this Envoy to determine if there were any plots behind these burials and celebrity requiem Masses.
The team began investigating immediately…and already they had a bad feeling about the Envoy, the kind of noxious feeling that can only come from years of instinct, the kind of rancid feeling one gets around foul characters, the kind you get when there are too many run-on sentences and cheesy analogies.
Sythe was especially uneasy about the Envoy. But, Sythe had that kind of intuition, the kind that almost itched, the kind that clung to him like underwear worn too many days in a row, that kind that got under his skin like those odd rashes he used to get in delicate areas, but that’s another story…
The team used their every talent to assess the Special Requiem Envoy. They picked up every nuanced detail, every hint, every note, because they could all be clues.
The musical envoy’s leader was a traditional nun, who still wore the required garb and went by the name, Sister Cecilia. Cecilia, the patron saint of music…how interesting, but was it a ruse or were overt names just a bad habit?
Yeah, Sr. Cecilia…sure, she looked like a Sister of Charity or maybe a Dominican nun. But, there were some anomalies with this nun. She cursed like a trucking company’s underpaid file clerk and she was smokin’ and not in the good way. She was a chain-smoking nun with a cough and a cough drop habit to go with it, menthol cough drops, the hardcore stuff, the kind that could put hair on the chest of rogue cop in a bad TV series…and that seemed to be a curse this nun bore.
And, she was a big woman…shoes the size of small shipping crates and a rack that could shade small boys. Yeah, we’re talking K-cups. Grounds to make Sythe ponder and brew over the details…
A cursing, hairy-chested, chain-smoking nun with a cough drop habit…
Sythe, Lulu, Precious, James—James, Math and Peaches were beginning to think something was seedy, definitely -awry.
The rest of her music group seemed just as unlikely as nuns and priests and even as musicians…
-There was a pair, who called each other, “Brother” and “Sister”, but observation indicated otherwise…the glares, the disregard for each other, the hateful barbs…yeah, they acted more like a married couple than siblings, let alone involved in a religious order.
– The other two were men, who referred to themselves as clergymen, a hairy one, who made a reference to a St. Lascivious with a cagey grin, and a tall one, who carried a large flask visible from the huge pockets of his cassock, which he wore open like an old overcoat.
– But, the hairy one couldn’t fool Sythe’s team, for they all knew there was no St. Lascivious, except in bawdy tales about certain working gals of the sidewalk, the kind of yarns about street corner dames who had weekend specials, the kind of accounts of gals who hustled in all the wrong ways, not that any of the team knew these stories.
Those were another story.
– They also saw the tall one put the mic in his front pocket. Everyone knew why a man didn’t put a microphone in his front pocket. It looked wrong, the kind of wrong that threw off the line of good trousers, the kind of wrong akin to wearing a pair of Spanx not quite high enough on a thick-middled waist…and then they saw him screw off the top cage and drink from the inside. It was yet another flask he was carrying, but he only drank from the fake mic., not from the large flask in his robe pocket…and, clearly, it was another clue for the team.
But, Sythe and his team also knew this Special Requiem Envoy had been hired by people on a much higher rung of the ladder than The G-Team. A committee of archbishops, who, in keeping with Catholic Church musician-hiring protocol, had no musical training, but did possess heavily-amped hiring power and were the notables behind the Envoy’s hiring contract.
Obviously, The G-Team would need to do more than speculate about the Envoy and be certain beyond a shadow of doubt that this Envoy were imposters. They vowed that all that was disguised would be exposed, all that was hidden would be made clear, all that was dark would be revealed…even if mountains had to fall to do it.
Press /\ …Sound on, Select & Press icon for Sound Effect…continue reading…
This effort would take the entire G-Team doing what they do so well, what they do best, what they do better than most all-volunteer teams do some of the time.
Their minds whirred into action the way squirrel traps left on a rooftop too long ground into motion.
Sythe’s team chewed on the matter, because Peaches brought her cookies. They just had to be really careful about her cookies…poisoned assassin cookies were in the Tupperware, the regular cookies were in the Gladware…because, details…details mattered…especially with Peaches’ cookies. They’d lost a lot of sopranos before they learned about those crumby kinds of details.
And, just WHAT would The G-Team do to expose all that was hidden and make it clear?
Yeah, what clever plot would Sythe and his team dig up to bury these potentially deadly doers of diabolical deeds?
We’ll soon find out…but, first, this word that makes you think of the writing in this missive…it’s about brown, squishy stuff from our sponsor:
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Back to The G-Team…
Press /\ …Sound on LOW, Select & Press icon for Intro Music…and READ…
It was a cold, dry day, dry like an old gravel road in the heat of summer, dry like stale extra-fiber cereal, dry like the martinis James—James favored where the barkeep wasn’t even allowed to look at the vermouth bottle…yeah, it was dry. And, it was cold, cold like a brass bra on a winter morn, cold like…yeah, you get the idea…it was cold.
Sythe had arrived at The G-Team’s HQ first and the rest of the team showed up late, as was their usual ops method.
Lulu was already working on logistics and the other team needs. As usual, she was barely dressed for the job with a skirt that read like an essay, long enough to cover the subject, but short enough to create interest. Lulu knew she might need all of her assets for this caper. When dressed to the nines, she was the kind of dame who could get ones, especially if she had a nearby pole or others of that descent.
Yeah, that’s how good Lulu was.
And, there was Precious continuing to do all that Precious is and does. She was gathering the back Intel from the CIA. Never one of those dames to drop the ball or her flute, she bounced crucial notes to Sythe and Math. Yeah, Precious was a dame who could think on the fly or the rebound. She always had a game plan ready and could play it one way or another and sometimes even the right way, because, yeah, Precious was that good.
James—James was already working a disguise or two or three or five, because that just what he was for. They could count on him. Yeah, he was the kind of rogue willing to go out on a limb, if that’s where the fruit was, a concept he and Peaches knew all too well.
Yeah, James—James…he could become any personality necessary and he had a hundred of them, one as convincing as the other. He made Sybil look like a slacker. And, he could be anyone and anybody for the right reason and…sure, maybe a few wrong ones…that’s how good he was.
And, Math…yeah, Math…he was in full analyst mode, summing up the situation. He’d squared off against the varying encrypted messages Precious had intercepted for him. Math was primed…he was going to get the root of the scheme, it all had his undivided attention.
And, yeah, Math had that calculating look, the kind that made him pause and maybe drool a little, the kind of reckoning look that made you ponder whether Math was deciphering or if his computer-like brain was buffering…but, that’s how good he was.
Peaches was there, too…yeah, Peaches…deep in thought, the kind of thoughts a plotting genius of her type was known to have. The negotiations and lethal nature of the diabolical perps in this caper had her mind going like a web browser, like she had 19 tabs open and a few were frozen…and there was music playing, but she didn’t know why. That’s right, her mind was humming the way an elevator sounds when it goes to the fourth floor to anyone living on the fourth floor, but not to the fifth floor. Yeah, Peaches’ elevator didn’t go all the way to the top…because that’s how good she was.
Sythe combined the work and info from his team of aces and saw what was in the cards.
He could see what he was dealt and he flushed out the oldest scheme known to musical con artists…
…Yeah, lip syncing…
…that was how the Special Requiem Envoy had stacked the deck in their favor.
Lip-syncing…It may have been a dicey bid for them, but they played their hand and their pirated recordings well. And, Sythe had anteed up on their whole deal…because that’s how good Sythe was.
Now, exposing the Envoy for the cheap tricks they were, was going to take all the ginned up courage the team had. Sythe was going to lay on the table the Envoy’s real identities and call them on whatever squeeze they were trying. Sythe led with setting up Lulu for The G-Team’s next logistical move…and their die was cast…
The G-Team was in strategic mode in strategic locations in the church hosting the Envoy’s next celebrity Catholic funeral, because, yeah, that was their strategy.
It wasn’t going to be easy, but The G-Team’s plan was slinking into action the way cheap fitted bedsheets sidle away from mattress corners, the way remnants of an Icee often slid down Sythe’s chin, the way worn-out underwear creeps up on you from behind…yeah, The G-Team was gliding into gear…exactly where the Envoy was rehearsing…
Lulu had provided the means to allow the team to circle their perps. Sythe and Math pivoted to the circuitry of their mission, while Precious kept the team in the loop.
James—James whirled into undercover mode as a local newspaper’s reporter, who was covering the celebrity Catholic funeral and the Special Requiem Envoy, while Peaches rolled into action as the caterer for the funeral…yeah, she was baking.
James—James could immediately confirm The Special Requiem Envoy nuns were anything, but Dominican Sisters. He knew he could woo any dame, who wasn’t a nun or too sagacious, even if she reeked of menthol cough drops and hacked a lot.
He hauled out his best poetry: “your mouth is like two lips, your eyes are like blue things…”
…Yeah, James—James had a certain knack for romancing a broad…and those fake nuns fell for it. If James—James had to wrap his arms around a few dames rehearsing for a funeral to get what he wanted, well, he was just the under-covers man that was needed.
James—James and Peaches were able to observe the Special Envoy’s set-up more closely. James—James knew guitars and he quickly observed the guitar held by Envoy’s guitarist wasn’t usable. That’s right, he had the expertise to know the guitar was strung in all the wrong places. We’re talking G-strings…just G-strings…and the daring James—James was at a floss for words.
Peaches also discovered the Envoy was using a volunteer church choir’s old ploy: Sure, they had microphones and they had those mic. cable lines, but it was when those lines headed to the mixer that it all got as squirrelly as Peaches’ thought processes. That’s right…their lines didn’t go all the way to their mixers, their connecters didn’t go all the way to the sockets, their inputs didn’t go all the way to their outputs.
Yeah, it was a case of more than crossed wires. It was a total disconnect.
Math had analyzed the set-up The Special Requiem Envoy used and Sythe’s tracking of the Envoy’s prior patterns provided the info Precious was able to confirm through a series of her flutily tooted messages. That Precious gal could really toot. And, she did have a milk allergy, but that’s another story…
For The G-Team, the technical wizardry was left to Sythe and Math, while the rest of the team just carried things…and the gadgetry geniuses had a plan, which Math outlined:
Connect the sound to expose the ruse…the lip-syncing ruse…AND…
…that should expose the real identities of
the Special Requiem Envoy members…
This was the first step toward the demise of these dastardly deed-doers. Sythe and Math laid out the details. Yeah, it was a clever plan and, sure, it would require some solid team work, but The G-Team was that good.
At the Envoy’s next rehearsal, Lulu and James–James would dupe and distract the Envoy and Sythe and Math would craftily hook up the lines to expose the lip sync-ing with an assist from Peaches. The plan was brilliant.
If all was as they suspected, the team would quickly learn that the Envoy was not comprised of real musicians and their voices would help the team identify who these phony nuns and priests really were…or that was their plan and their hope.
Precious sent the gist of the plan to The G-Team: -Hook -Line and -Syncers
Lulu was dressed to distract any red-blooded male disguised as a priest with a penchant to be bad while disguised as a priest.
James—James had his personal tasers set to “stun nun”.
Sythe instructed Peaches to conceal herself in an advantageous position near the sound controls and be ready for his cue to act.
But, Peaches’ blank stare told Sythe she needed more direction: “Pretend you’re in a cake and jump out when I call you”, he said. Those were the words only a budget stripper, like Peaches, fully understood.
Precious prepared to do as Precious does and jammed the Envoy’s communication signals with Math’s help to gel the effort. James—James condensed his focus to staging a photo op for the Envoy director. Sythe’s actions were preserved for the solidifying moment…
…And, Lulu was set into action with a walk-by in front of the Envoy…with her walk, a walk that could clot arteries, a walk that could both start and then congeal drool, a walk that was gelatin molds riding in a bus up front and Jello on springs in the back.
And, yeah, the distractions worked…
With the Envoy distracted, Math and Sythe provided the tech savvy and connected the lines. They made all the right couplings and hook-ups to connect the Envoy’s sound and Sythe cued Peaches, who jumped out of hiding in time to push the right buttons, because, yeah, Peaches really knew how to push people’s buttons. Peaches also hollered, “Happy Birthday”, because, yeah, she thought she was hiding in a cake, but that’s another story and…yeah, sometimes, Peaches’ hit the giggle water too hard.
The G-Team knew exposing the Envoy’s real voices might result in bad sound, but they didn’t know just how bad bad could really be…and it was really bad.
The voices…they were the kind that could make a funeral go from sad to pathetic, the kind that could make the eyes of a meth lab chef water, the kind that could make ear lobes curl and paint peel, the kind that could only be akin to a walrus birthing farm equipment……and all with their leader’s constant cough. You could even hear the clacking of those putrid menthol cough drops against her teeth.
Sure, the team had heard about this kind of malady from their televisions:
“If you experience . . . an abjection lasting four or more hours…
…be sure to call a doctor…
And, The G-Team knew exactly which Doctor to call out……
It was what Sythe had feared all along…his career nemesis was involved:
It was Dr. Hoeh …long o, silent e-h; rhymes with ‘hoe’
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It was a feat and it put them ahead…Sythe and his team had exposed the Special Requiem Envoy as musical imposters and correctly identified the leader of the despicable gang behind the horrific noise. The G-Team then quickly and discreetly exited, acting none the wiser, before the Envoy would ever know that The G-team was onto their ruse.
But, they now had an idea of just who and what was behind the Envoy…
Of all the bad dames that could drop into his world, Sythe probably feared this broad
more than the rest. And, Sythe was tough, the kind of tough that would deter most diabolical criminals, the kind of tough that made meek men tremble, the kind that let Sythe drink lite beer and still seem as macho as any of those Village People singers.
Yeah, Dr. Hoeh, was a poisonous perp, a dastardly devil, a corrupt criminal and an all-round really, really bad babe.
And, it became clear who her cohorts in crime were…some of her pals from when she did her bit in the slammer…
The alleged Brother-Sister pair, who demonstrated a mutual disdain one might only observe with a married couple, were exactly as the team thought: married.
They were Tim and Pammy Kay Flakker, a couple who had once been financial counselors, but found crimes of racketeering and fraud to be far more lucrative.
The hairy guy disguised as a priest had once been a retreat organizer, but had discarded that life to use his organizational skills for criminal activity…he was Chuck Manson, but his gang members called him, Chuckie, and he was no dummy.
The big tall fellow, whose pockets had too many flasks and who had disguised himself with a priestly cassock, was none other than Jimmy Jones, a former motivational speaker and bartender, who developed a tendency to use his charm and mixologist’s skills for malevolent misdeeds…and it also explained the large flask he carried, but avoided, marked “Kool Aid”.
Yeah, these were villains, scoundrels, miscreants… They were an orb of evil, a circle of crime, a ring of wranglers…when it came to corruption, they got around.
These were the kind of subhumans that would get caught in the spam filter of life.
Sure, they were naughty, but they were up against the best, The G-Team.
Yeah, now The G-Team knew the WHO involved, but they didn’t know the why or The Cure… and, yeah, this left them Disturbed…but, they had Heart, as they prepared for The Clash…
And, just then…there was another message between the Special Requiem Envoy members…
Precious intercepted–the exchange…
Math detected–the code…
Lulu connected–the logistics…
James—James perfected–the next disguise…
Sythe directed–the plan…
And Peaches was baked…
Yeah, The G-Team had a long night ahead of them…
This all looked bad …bad, like the writing in this caper… like toilet paper with glitter …like moth ball-scented hand lotion …like a blooper reel for a Holocaust documentary…
…writing so bad you get indigestion…which brings us to a word from our sponsor:
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It had been a long night for the G-Team and it was now a cloudy day, the kind of day when there are clouds.
The G-Team now knew the identity of the evil behind the Special Requiem Envoy assigned to celebrity Catholic funerals, but they had yet to discover what criminal calamities this crew contemplated committing.
Yeah, Sythe had noticed a pattern in the Envoy’s movements, a rare mistake for the master of music crime known as Dr. Hoeh.
The Envoy had access to large Catholic Churches across the nation from the time of the first funeral announcement through to the planning and eventual funeral services under the pretense of the Envoy’s rehearsing, music planning, equipment set-up, sound checks and, of course, the funeral and burial service.
Every one of these celebrity Catholic funerals involved attendees from across the nation and around the world, a who’s who list of well known Catholic elites, Hollywood stars, international aristocracy and the cream of society.
With the team’s attention to detail, they noted a few odd reports buried in the information Precious obtained and Math analyzed.
There were reports of extra hearses and even extra coffins, reports dismissed by authorities as confusion due to grief and an abundance of limos and stretch SUVs that came with the prestigious crowds assembled for a celebrity Catholic funeral. Sure, the team was always suspicious when there was more than one Corpse Caddie and Chicago Overcoat involved, because, yeah, they were that good.
Precious developed an intercourse with the CIA and Lulu had relations with the logistics world, and both got some of the intimate details confirmed, because these two dames could really put out, when needed.
James—James was unleashed on the Envoy for some final photos and he was willing to wag his charms one more time to hound a bit more dirt from the mutt of a broad called Dr. Hoeh. He needed to endure her smokes and constant hacking and dog out the stray details and he was willing to woo, even if the dame had a voice so husky it could pull a dogsled and she practically howled of the smell of menthol and an ashtray.
Peaches was mixing up a new recipe and counted on Lulu to whip up some special ingredients for her creation, certain to add the right measure to The G-Team’s efforts.
Math held up his end by tailing several encrypted messages and got to the seat of the recent coded bases.
The G-Team had enough info to recognize big crime potential.
Sythe’s longtime congregation with churches made him aware of a few cardinal facts and, yeah, his inside info was infallible…he was ready to council his team with some orders…
…And, the team could read Sythe the way a blind man could read a sandbox, the way an infatuated teen could read a cheerleader’s “are you kidding me?” look, the way a chicken could read the intent of Colonel Sanders…yeah, they knew Sythe well.
And, they all knew a music crime was about to go down…and that Sythe had a plan…
Sythe went into action with the decisive decision-making skills of a squirrel crossing a busy highway…that’s how good he was.
James—James learned The Special Requiem Envoy was actually traveling in a used hearse they had pinched from an impound. Sure, that explained the additional Body Buicks reported at celebrity Catholic funerals, but it didn’t explain the extra Pinewood Suit.
James—James also got additional information, because James—James had a mind that held everything, the kind that picks up details with the ease that he picks up a desperate floozy at bar closing time, the kind that clings to nuances the way E. Coli. clings to lukewarm beef, the kind like the Bermuda Triangle where everything goes in, but finding it later is a challenge…that’s how good he was.
Math and Sythe were already speculating on the need for the second coffin. Their thoughts tumbled in their heads the way nylon panties tumble in a dryer without a Cling-Free sheet–sometimes connecting, sometimes just rolling in a wad. They were beginning to see growing crime potential in the whole set up. The Envoy’s cover was becoming a lie akin to their bald spots, getting too big to hide.
Precious and Math analyzed recent Envoy communications and Lulu was able to track some of the Envoy’s recent logistics. Lulu had also nabbed some of the special ingredients Peaches needed for her part in taking down the music crime-committing Envoy…
Yeah, Peaches was cooking…
…and it involved quarters, menthol
and some ingeniousness only Sythe could concoct…
And, yeah, this wasn’t gonna be duck soup.
There was bound to be a rumpus and the team would need some real smarts to get past the bunk, use careful coordination, and haul out all they had in metal squirters and disguises…Dr. Hoeh and her bad palookas were gonna drop…drop faster than a doofus in concrete loafers when pushed from a bridge, drop faster than a drunk on a mountain bike, drop faster than a hooker’s knickers on payday.
Precious got back on the horn to pass the dirt to the team and the CIA and to alert their peer teams in the nationwide music crime fighting organization, even though The G-Team had no peers.
Math angled for more of the Envoy’s communications, but the cons seemed to have clammed up as their movements became fishier, they’d cast their nets.
As The G-Team’s plans developed, Sythe chuckled to himself, the kind of laugh that rumbles with a level of delight in the idea of taking down his lifelong nemesis, the kind of deep, throaty laugh like the sound a dog makes before it’s going to vomit. He was certain that this time Dr. Hoeh would be heading for the Big House, the slammer, the hoosegow, the can, the chicken coop…and that she’d be taking her team of bad eggs with her.
The team ached for justice, desire the way some poor sap got dizzy for a dame, longing the way K.C. and the Sunshine Band wished they had more song lyrics, hungry like the way you get from not eating for a while.
The G-Team’s plan was simple, like the mind of Peaches, but, unlike Peaches’ mind, this plan just might work…
Sythe and his team had determined what Dr. Hoeh was plotting and Math and Precious had been able to confirm their suspicions…
Every Catholic knew what was hidden in every Catholic Church basement, besides a stash of Christmas wreaths, bingo equipment, empty kegs and a year’s supply of candles…
Yeah, we’re talking weapons: bean shooters, heaters, auto lead pumpers/Chicago typewriters, rods of every type and a bunch of noise-makers and kamikaze watermelons—the kind that goes boom in the night, the kind that rubs out a city block in a wink, the kind that makes big mugs drop faster than a beefy kid on a seesaw.
Yeah, it was the stash of the Catholic Church’s weapons to fight the zombie apocalypse.
Sure, that kind of a stash could be easy to pinch for the bad palookas in the Special Requiem Envoy. 
Crucial supplies, like Christmas decor, bingo supplies and summer fest kegs had routine seasonal use, while the zombie apocalypse weapons were in long-term church basement storage and were rarely checked.
But, Sythe and Math had confirmed it…the stash at this church was missing. Precious got on the squawker, alerted their web of other music crime fighting teams and confirmed the apocalypse weapons from other churches were also missing…from churches where there had been…sure, you know…celebrity Catholic funerals!
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The Special Requiem Envoy was rod-running, gun-galloping, bomb-jogging, arms racing, weapons wrangling…and they were in a hurry to make their drop.
The G-team had the scuttle on the crime, so all they needed now was to know the mark…the bomb buyers, the pistol purchasers, the gun grabbers, the missile mongers.
The G-Team would be infiltrating the celebrity Catholic funeral to find out. James—James had concocted the disguise ideas and Lulu had nabbed the remainder of their needs.
The celebrity Catholic funeral’s guest list was a veritable smorgasbord of elites from royalty to film stars, from dignitaries to world leaders and from corporate big whigs to noteworthy heirs, except they weren’t all like the name, smorgasbord—Swedish. People were dying to get into this funeral and The G-Team knew just how they would rub elbows with the elite.
Sythe and James—James would be stationed at the altar with Precious nearby. Math would be posted near the main entry and exit for the church. Lulu and Peaches would be intermingled with the attendees.
Sythe would be disguised as a really large altar boy, claiming puberty struck him exceptionally early. In the traditional altar boy garb, Sythe could conceal that he was packing heat and still be cool about it, altar boy cool.
James—James’s disguise would be that of a heavily bearded rabbi, who would be co-officiating the service. His heavy robes and beard served to conceal his identity and a few lead-squirters of his own. 
Precious was decked out in glad rags fit for her cover as a specially commissioned guest flute soloist, hired by the 
grieving relatives, which allowed her close proximity to Sythe and kept her communication weapon near her at all times…and also the box Peaches had given her with a special mission for it.
Math’s cover was a gig as the church’s sound technician, because, well, Sythe wouldn’t do that job anymore and Math
had the tech ability. As the Church’s sound tech, he could use the sound set-up as a way to house Sythe’s keyboard weapons and also Math’s vast computer lab, a set-up that looked akin to a Radio Shack and an Apple store attempting a Kama Sutra move, not that he would know about that.
Lulu would be attending the funeral disguised as wealthy socialite mourner, donning a close-cut black suit and heavily-veiled hat to hide her identity and a matching handbag that looked more like a violin case from a ’20’s gangster movie and held contents just as deadly.
Peaches’ undercover role was that of the Dowager Duchess of Freedonia. Despite being in mourning, she was decked 
for evening in a black gown accessorized with her very important and very infamous boa.
Yeah, The G-Team was up to something, something big, big like Lulu’s hairdo in the ’80’s, big like a politician’s ego, big like the amount of money Peaches spends to look so cheap…
How big? First, while talking about big bad things…a word from our sponsor…
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It was a foggy day, a day just meant for a funeral. Even the fog was sad, like steam with a mournful chill, like dismal watery-type smoke, like clouds so dejected they tried to rain but gave up and had to settle for a fine mist. It was a day of melancholy vapored murkiness and, yeah, there was fog…just the kind of day to veil evil deeds.
As the first of the Envoy’s lip-synced music began for the funeral Mass, guests filed into the Catholic Church and, among them, were Lulu and Peaches in their disguises. Math was already in place, running the church’s sound system, and Precious took her place near The Special Requiem Envoy…and, as instructed, Precious slipped the box Peaches had given her next to Dr. Hoeh’s cough drop supply.
As the church was filling to capacity, an odd group assembled at the back of the church. This was a group that just 
didn’t fit. And, they looked uneasy, the way a man with a fork feels in a soup cafe, the way a pavement princess feels at an evangelist’s retreat, the way you feel when you watch your mother-in-law drive off a cliff in your new car…they had mixed feelings.
Sythe and his team quickly recognized this known terrorist organization. It was none other than L.E.T.UP., the Librarian Equality Terrorist UPrising…the group that demanded librarians be taken seriously as executives.
LETUP had started with small acts of rebellion, like refusing to stamp returned books and turned to purposeful violations of the Dewey Decimal System and then ramped up to printing counterfeit library cards. They whined about their alleged plight with all the drama of a middle school dance, of a PTA barbecue committee, of the B-side of a country music song.
When that wasn’t enough to garner LETUP the attention they desired, they beefed up their numbers in more ways than one. Yeah, they had packed their entity with mean mugs and big thugs. Yeah, they were a band of hooligans, ruffians, goons and hoods, but they were very well-read.
They wore their signature muumuus emblazoned with their slogans: “Librarian Power”, and “Librarians Rule” and some of their more graphic messages, like “Mess with a Librarian and We’ll Check YOU Out” and “Book Me and I Roll You” on the backs of those muumuus. And, they were known for both their evil and their incompetence, sort of like the U.S. Post Office with tanks.
They were a rough crowd and they reeked of the kind of dankness and mustiness that came from old books, old smokes and travel too long in an old bus with no open windows after a steady diet of fast food.
And, they were wearing their gang bandanas, obvious because of the whimsical book print strewn on a colorful background, so they stood out in the church…stood out like pork chops in a synagogue…like Pepsi in a Whole Foods aisle display…like sorority girls at a comic book convention…like a reggae band at a KKK rally.
The G-Team had a hunch that LETUP was the intended recipient of the stolen Catholic Church zombie apocalypse
weapons and The Special Requiem Envoy’s plan became obvious…with extra Corpse Caddies and coffins…and a stream of limos, stretch SUVs, mourners and some amount of chaos as the elite elbowed each other for prime locations certain to get them on camera at the cemetery…there was ample opportunity and distractions at the burial service for the Envoy to make their exchange unnoticed.
And, sure enough, LETUP had arrived in their usual tie-dye painted bus, but their leaders were in what amounted to a third Body Buick…another hearse…but this one was empty in the rear, a claim Peaches could never make.
Yeah, it was clear as a clear day when there is some sun and no clouds that the Envoy had loaded their coffin with the church’s weapons and would pass that loaded coffin to the terrorists during the hubbub of the crowd assembling for the burial service at the cemetery.
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The Special Requiem Envoy lip-synced their way through the entire service with Precious tossing in a heartfelt improv solo at just the right moment. Then, the Envoy and entire assembly followed the funeral procession to the burial site.
Yeah, Dr. Hoeh seemed as nervous as an egg on a kitchen counter…near the edge and ready to crack. Her gang was with her with their gape-mouthed expressions. They looked useless to her, the way bricks would look, if they dropped out of high school and were hooked on weed, more dense than roadkill after the morning rush hour, and possessing the attention spans of billy goats on meth. But, they were loyal to her and tough enough to pull off this caper.
The scene at the cemetery was unreal, eerie even…Yeah, there was a surreal atmosphere, like when you’re on vacation in another city and Wheel of Fortune comes on at 7:00pm instead of 7:30pm.
There was a mist in the air and swirls of fog and dew that glistened on the grass the way glitter sparkled on a pole dancer’s fishnet stockings, the way crumpled foil glimmers from a recycling bin, the way a fresh sneeze twinkles on an old man’s mustache.
Math staked out the Envoy’s Corpse Caddie, while Precious and Lulu covered the LETUP hearse. Sythe and James—James covered the entire LETUP organization and Peaches watched the Envoy gang.
And, Peaches noticed Dr. Hoeh was, in fact, carrying the small box Peaches had given to Precious to carefully plant with Hoeh’s belongings. Peaches could count on Precious to get the job done the way you could bet on a collection plate appearing at a for-profit ministry’s revival, the way you could depend on getting emails from a Nigerian prince, the way you could bank on hidden fees in any contract with 4 pt font, because that’s how good she was.
And, as Dr. Hoeh incessantly coughed and spewed her menthol breath onto nearby mourners, The Special Requiem Envoy signaled to the LETUP terrorists that they were ready to create a distraction, which would allow them to make their insidious trade.
They were diabolical. They were fiendish. They were vile. And, yeah, they weren’t very nice either. The Brother and Sister duo, who The G-Team knew was really Tim and Pammy Kay Flakker, staged a scene with Pammy Kay, in her full nun’s disguise, going into grief hysteria and then dramatically fainting in the midst of the mourners.
Yeah, it was during this rumpus that two decoy hearses lined up with each other and the trade was about to go on in the midst of unsuspecting mourners with the ease of a frat boy scoring on Sythe’s pushover sister…but that’s another story…
It wasn’t going to be duck soup for them, though…yeah, Sythe and his team were on their toes and on their feet…
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And, what happened next was like the din of a team of mining dwarves driving a culvert through bedrock during a thunderstorm..….and like watching the flailing arms of seven inflatable whacky tube men on the same small car lot, but also as smooth as the jazz played at one of those high-priced hooch joints. It was almost poetry in motion, if the poetry was about violence or a sweaty octopus trying to bitch slap a large den of sugar-hyped cub scouts.
The LETUP organization was armed to the teeth and not just with books. The G-Team had met their match, but they were ready…
Lulu was on the LETUP leaders like a football player gets on his date at the Homecoming dance, all over them like a cheap dress on a floozy, all over them like glitter on a sweaty prom queen. As she bounced one of the mugs off her chest, she brought all new meaning to busting his chops.
Precious was proving to be as badass as Colonel Mustard in the study with a candlestick, but she wielded her flute 
instead, with the savvy of a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle, but with more attitude and a really cute hat. She made John Wick look like a pansy.
That left the nearly 30 other LETUP guerrillas to Sythe, Math and James—James.
The G-Team male trio approached the terrorists with the finesse of a blind rhino with an ear infection and the terrorists suddenly knew they were going to get hurt……but, like frying bacon naked, they didn’t know just where the pain would strike…yet.
The three G-Team men hit the thugs so hard their souls left their bodies for a moment and you could hear them apologize to the ground when they dropped, like flies in a bug zapper, under the G-Team assault.
It was during that brouhaha that Sythe signaled Peaches…
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Yeah, Peaches…her facade might be crumbling, but she was more structurally sound than she looked. And, that boa of hers…yeah, it had rolls of quarters sewn into its ends. Sure, it gave that boa some extra drag during one of Peaches’ strip routines and, when she wore it, it tended to bounce against her caboose as she walked, the way the head of a dead body bounces on each step as he’s drug upstairs by his feet. But, in her skilled hands that boa became a 
powerful weapon.
Sythe knew that unleashing Peaches was a lot like giving a drunk monkey a machine gun, but Dr. Hoeh’s gang was deserving of what Peaches could dish out to them.
Peaches, the stripper, went into her other routine: full assassin mode…
Peaches moved through the gang faster than PAC money at a political convention……faster than Mexican water goes through a tourist……faster than Michael Jackson when he sees a “Boys’ Pants Half Off” sign.
Yeah, Peaches was fast and she and her boa took down Dr. Hoeh’s gang singlehandedly…using both hands. Her boa wasn’t called “the feather nunchucks” for nothing…and she chucked the phony priests, too.
That was when The G-Team realized Dr. Hoeh had flaked off and presented them with a new challenge…
With hundreds of mourners in harm’s way, Dr. Hoeh had used the arsenal coffin as a weapon armed with explosives laced with muddy nails, cruddied metal scraps and grimy glass shards…a truly dirty bomb…and Dr. Hoeh held the 
detonator in her evil clutches as she raced the wheeled casket toward The G-Team and the throngs of mourners.
The G-Team was shocked, the kind of jolt one receives from getting a surcharge at a formerly surcharge-free ATM machine, the kind of jar you get when Peaches only needs one day to finish a puzzle clearly marked “2-4 years”, the kind of stun a bombshell with a new boob job gets when she learns the surgeon put squeak toys in her breasts, the kind of startle one gets when the organist at a closed casket funeral service decides to play “Pop Goes The Weasel”…and they were stunned, too.
Sure, Dr. Hoeh had the morals of an alley cat on a long weekend, the compassion of Ma Barker on a bender, the ethical restraint of Stalin with a migraine…but they never expected her to stoop this low.
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And, yeah, the explosive-loaded casket was racing closer and closer to the crowd of mourners with only The G-Team between them and Dr. Hoeh’s coffin bomb with its detonator held in her wicked grasp as she cruelly laughed at The G-Team, interrupted only by her incessant coughing…and the end of this run-on sentence.
Yeah, that was when the final part of Sythe’s ingenious plan clicked into place, as Dr. Hoeh popped what would be her last cough drop into her mouth, the cough drop from the small box Precious had slipped to her, the cough drop whose ingredients Lulu had acquired, the cough drops Peaches had cooked up in her menthol lab…
Yeah, it was a Peaches LaBoomBoom cough drop and, like one of her cookies…lethal, deadly, fatal…and it didn’t taste good either.
As Dr. Hoeh slurped the toxic goodness of one of Peaches’ cough drops, she gasped one last breath, dropped the detonator and collapsed to the ground…
The G-Team realized that they, in fact,
had used a cough drop . . . to stop that coffin.
Yeah, The G-Team had nabbed a terrorist organization, exposed and captured Dr. Hoeh’s gang of miscreants and saved the attendees of a celebrity Catholic funeral.
And, as the sun slowly dipped behind the horizon, the way an arthritic grandma nonchalantly sinks into a hot bath, this gumshoe writer asks…
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Yeah, what about The G-Team…
What would become of Lulu Voluptchuz, the babe-alicious logistics and acquisitions guru? Would she acquire 
more than she could handle or will she always be the gal who puts out more than she takes? Would those bells she heard that sounded a lot like a garbage truck backing up be the sign of true love in her life or just that it was her day to set out the trash?
What about Precious Migh…would she continue as The G-Team’s communications master, would she retire to a quiet, army tactical maneuver-like life of running teenagers all over a Tri-state area, or would she end up with a recurring role in a series of Lord of the Ring movies…under the name: Migh, Precious?
And, what of James-pause-James Cahn, the team front man with his affinity for dames and disguise and his devilishly good looks? Would he continue to charm, wow and woo his way into 007 fame…or would he finally meet his match in an angelic mastermind able to make him take a vow against his gigalo ways? Would he fall for her like his heart was a mob informant and she was the East River?
How about C. Mathias “Math” Strange, the team’s technical and analytical whiz kid? Would his penchant for bad puns and older dames finally result in his demise…or, would he finish his doctoral degree and go on to star in Marvel movies?
And, what of Peaches LaBoomBoom, the G-Team assassin, who was as popular in retirement communities as a blow-up doll at a frat house during a free beer run? Would she continue her strip tease act for budget retirement homes or would she be killing it as a maid hired to simply strip and wax floors?
What about Sythe A. Bossman, the fearless leader and weapons master of The G-Team? Would he continue to direct his music crime-fighting team…would he trade in his drum major’s baton for a double light saber and finally get that villain role as a sythe in a Star Wars movie…or would he simply lead a high school band and supervise a Sunday evening church ensemble, using his director’s baton as a weapon of decent music?
And, what about Insp. Jacquie Cluezow, the author of this cheesy spoof of every bad detective story known to all the swill-guzzling gumshoes with more taste in their mouths than in their literary preferences? Will she continue to assault the English language and insult the intelligence of readers everywhere…or will the grammar police hunt her down in her flophouse, fit her with a set of double bracelets and show her a good time in the Big House?
For answers to these and other profoundly silly life questions and to know more about the team with more issues than a complete collection of National Geographics, tune in again to
The Adventurous Capers of The G-Team
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The End
Dedicated to the St. Gertrude Contemporary Ensemble
Paul, Maggie, Jeff, Peter, Maryellyn, Claudia (in order of ensemble appearance)
\/ [Be sure to check the references, below, to explain the lingo.] \/
References, in order of mention:
Bird, dame, doll, kitten = woman, attractive woman——Getaway sticks = legs——Axel = ice skater’s rapid twirl——Drum Major = Paul was once the drum major at Moeller HS as a teen——Bump Gums, Jaw Flapping = talking, excessive talking——Smokes = cigarettes——James Bond-007 Agent = character in a series of books, which were made into many movies about this fictional and legendary British Secret Service Agent——Dirt, Scuttle = info, data——NCIS = current, popular detective-investigation TV show——“The Cracker” = reference to a racial slur——Magnolia Ezielay = fictional name that sounds like “easy lay”——Sythe Allus = sounds like the venereal disease, “syphilis”, with a lisp——Lord of the Rings mention with Precious Migh, whose name listed with last name first would be “Migh, Precious” that sounds like “My Precious”, which is the name for the infamous ring in the Lord of the Rings movies——Dingus, Gizmo = gadgets——Sybil = reference to well-known patient with multiple personalities and a movie of the same name starring Sally Fields as the woman afflicted with multiple personalities—––St. Lascivious = fictional saint, use of word that sounds like an old Roman name, but actually means, lusty——Lip Sync = pretending to sing or perform music by acting out the performance while a recording plays instead——G-String = string on a guitar AND also a lingerie item, a panty with a mere string going up the back side——Giggle Water, Hooch = liquor——Abjection = humiliating act——“Lasting four or more hours” = reference to commercial for a remedy for erectile dysfunction——Dr. Hoeh = fictional character whose name is a play on “Dr. No”——Perp = detective lingo for crime perpetrator——“Bit in Slammer” = sentence in prison——Tim and Pammy Kay Flakker = fictional characters whose names are a play on Jim and Tammy Faye Bakker——Chuck (Chuckie) Manson = play on the name, Charles Manson, an infamous murderer who had a cult-like following and a reference to “Chuckie”, a fictional puppet or doll-like character in a series of horror movies——Jimmy Jones = play on the name, Jim Jones, an infamous cult leader known for killing his followers with poisoned KoolAid——“All That Was Hidden Will Be Made Clear” = reference to St. G. Ensemble standard hymn (Did you really need to check this one?)——“Mountains may fall” = reference to St. G. Ensemble hymn——The Who, The Cure, Disturbed, Heart, The Clash = popular rock bands——Corpse Caddie, Body Buick = hearse——Chicago Overcoat, Pinewood Suit = casket or coffin——Pinched = stole—— Impound = tow away lot——Floozy, Pushover Sister = woman of “Easy Virtue”, easy or fast woman——Duck Soup = something that is easy——Rumpus, Brouhaha, Ruckus = fight, skirmish, ado——Bunk = malarkey, false info——Metal Squirter = gun——Palookas, Mugs, Eggs = guys, bad guys——Doofus = stupid or awkward person——Concrete Loafers = cement castings put on feet of people killed by gangsters, used to weigh down bodies when they were dumped in a river——Knickers = panties, underpants——Horn, Squawker = communication method or phone——Clammed Up = stopped talking——Big House, Slammer, Hoosegow, The Can, The Chicken Coop = jail——“Dizzy for a Dame” = in love——Bean-shooters, Heaters, Rods, Lead Squirters = guns——Auto Lead Pumpers, Chicago Typewriters = machine guns——Noise makers, Kamikaze Watermelons = bombs, explosives——Zombie Apocalypse = reference to zombie uprising——Rub Elbows = mingle, socialize——Packing Heat = carrying a gun or weapon——Glad Rags = dressy clothes, expensive or fancy clothes——Kama Sutra move = reference to a book originating from India about sex stuff (Yeah, you look it up)——“1920’s Violin Case” = reference to practice of gangsters in the 1920’s carrying machine guns in violin cases——Freedonia = fictional nation from an old movie where Groucho Marx once played it’s ruler——LETUP = fictional terrorist organization——Thugs, Hooligans, Mugs, Goons, Ruffians, Hoods = tough bad guys——Muumuu = flowy garb——“Bust His Chops” = beat him up, sock him——Colonel Mustard in the study with a candlestick = reference to the board game, Clue——Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles = reference to cartoon featuring crime-fighting, martial arts teenage turtles——John Wick = reference to notoriously lethal assassin (killed 32 guys armed only with a pencil) featured in a series of recent movies——Caboose = rear end——PAC = Political Action Committee, which raises significant funds for political campaigns——Nunchucks = martial arts weapon that has nothing to do with nuns, usually two heavy rods connected with a chain——Flaked Off = snuck away, disappeared——Ma Barker = infamous American female outlaw, one of the US’ most notorious female criminals——Gumshoe = detective, private detective——“Fall for her like his heart was a mob informant, and she was the East River” = reference to mob penchant for throwing anyone who tattled on them to the police into the river to drown, usually with the help of cement blocks to weigh them down—— Marvel Movie= reference to a comic book character in several of the movie series, called Dr. Strange, suggesting that C. Mathias Strange could be him——Star Wars Villain = Sythe, a Star Wars movie series villain was once portrayed by Paul Kindt for a Moeller HS video——Insp. Jacquie Cluezow = spoof of the name, Inspector Jacque Clousteau, also known as “The Pink Panther” played by Peter Sellers in a series of movies——Swill-Guzzling = cheap liquor drinking——Flophouse = cheap hotel——Double Bracelets = handcuffs
Very Special Thanks to My Technical Consultant, Peter.