Aachoo Voo Private Eye 2024

Sunday, July 28, 2024

Aachoo Voo, Private Eye Episode 23 Crooked Lawyers And Crackerjacks WORLD PREMIERE!!! NEW EPISODE!!!!

https://aachoovooprivateeye2024.blogspot.com/2024/07/aachoo-voo-private-eye-episode-22-tom-b.html

link to Episode 22

Aachoo Voo, Private Eye

Episode Twenty-Three

Crooked Lawyers And Crackerjacks

MiMi Voo was bound and determined to get me out of this murderous mess. This bummiest of bum raps. She'd never been one for sitting around whistling dixie. She found solutions to problems even as she caused them. She relished the attention my mother was attracting now for being the mother of a suspected notorious criminal. Lacking no moxie, she sometimes entertained reporters and passersby with wild tales made up on the spot about the Paramores and their questionable reputations.

She intimated that Patricia had been kidnapped as a child but promptly returned without payment.That my father had won her in a poker game or been paid to marry her, that all her fancy clothes were second-hand, that she was legally blind and illiterate, crazy things like that. But she used every occasion to defend me and proclaim my innocence to all. "She's being framed by a jealous wife and her jealous friend!" she crowed. "The only thing Aachoo has ever been guilty of is being a true Voo impervious to the Paramore influence!"

My mother was horrified and had to be rushed to the hospital with possible organ failure and deflated ego. My father sat in the waiting room of St. Chuck's wringing his hands in marital exasperation, moaning softly. As for me, upon hearing the latest news broadcast I laid on my narrow jail bunk staring at the the lumpy imprint of the woman above me. I prayed and I cried and I wondered how on earth and when MiMi Voo had learned to use the uppity word impervious!

The first thing she had to do was to find me a good cracker jack lawyer. A lawyer for regular working people and not just for the glitterati. The Paramore family attorney, P. Quincy Quattlebaum had grown wealthy in his decades of legal servicing but everyone knew he was slick as an snake and twice as crooked. His business card read: P. Quincy Quattlebaum and Ass. (and people who actually knew him would read that and say yes, he is.) MiMi would not allow him near my trumped up case no matter how loudly he and my mother protested. She consulted high and low on the matter and finally settled on the law firm that Mr. Elliottt had recommended: The A.B. Surd Family Law Firm of Queens.

They had upped and transplanted their lawyering business there from Arkansas about ten years earlier (yes, they called it exactly that....their lawyering business) They had represented Terrence in his 'Doggie in the Window' copyright case and though they had lost it, he still considered them 'good ole boys' being an Arkansas transplant himself due to numerous nefarious activities such as the illegal possession of a mummy and other outlandish charges. It was said of him that he had broken laws that hadn't yet been thought up. But his defenses were impeccable.Truly pieces of fantastic and mind numbing detail! No judge or jury nodded off when The King of Things was being tried. It was too entertaining.

MiMi figured that Arkansas was close enough to Louisiana to be relatively free of Yankee blood so that was good enough for her. She hired Mr. A.B. Surd and Sons on the spot and paid them out of her own money and gave them all tasty Cajun delicacies as benefits. They accepted her generosity and got to work the very next day. I trusted MiMi's judgement but I still had to be impressed by the competence of the A.B. Surd lawyering boys. A.B. the father, A.B. Jr. and A.B. the Third (who was one of a set of twins which meant there was also a Fourth as well.) (But he worked at Woolworths.) All A.B.s and all A.B. Surds. (The A stood for Alburth, the B for Botharlermew, the AB Surd stood for, you know, absurd. Which they most assuredly were. MiMi liked 'em and immediately set out against my wishes to play matchmaker for me and the Third.

Days in the slammer dragged by like an impatient kid on December 26th sitting around waiting for Christmas. They were long and boring, interrupted only by cops and criminals, misdemeanors, felons, MiMi Voo visits and consultations that were just plain stupid. The Surd boys lived up to their name. They couldn't defend a newborn to his mama! They had no clue about.......... anything, really. Oh, sure, if you had livestock illegalities or agricultural agonies they were the ones to call but for everything else you were going to need attorneys that could think outside the dot. (Not a box, literally a dot!) Their brains were so seldom used they.....oh, never mind!! I could never describe the family mindlessness. I wondered briefly about the wife and mother. If indeed there had been one.

The Third was the worst of all. He fancied himself a ladies man. He thought he had charm and savor-faire. He thought I had fallen in love with him at first sight. He thought I was going to marry him when he cleared my name and they dismissed all the other charges the cops had connected me with just because I had found the victims or reported them or been born on the same day of the week. He thought wrong!

One gray day Lance came to see me as I was speaking to the attorney through the bars of my cell. The 'lady of the evening' and the mean ole Serbian pie thief who shared my accomodations almost broke their necks trying to reach out and touch him. They threw me across the cell and knocked The Third to his knees as the cop escorted him past us to the unoccupied consulting room around the way. Lance winked at me as he helped the offended lawyer to his feet. "How's my girl?" he asked. "I have some information for your shyster....I mean, your solicitor here." He winked again as he was led away backwards.

The Third gave him a dirty look and brushed at his ugly plaid jacket in distaste. I rolled my eyes. When he and Lance finished with the room, he gathered his scribbles into a brief case and hurried away saying, "My father and I will talk to you tomorrow after we discuss this new information." Blushing red as my room-mates cat-called and bird-whistled, he tripped over a deserted mop bucket, wiped his face with a hankie and on sudden impulse, blew me a kiss. Again I rolled my eyes.

Though they would not allow it, the minute Lance and I were given our supervised ten minutes together we mentally threw ourselves into one another's arms. "Oh, Aachoo!" he murmured, "What have they done to you?" A tear rolled down my cheek. "I think the parrot framed me." I smiled sadly. "No, but somebody did!" he roared. "And I think I know who!" "Have you talked to MiMi?" I asked and he nodded. "She's organizing a posse.T Wayne and D'Sal, Tom and his brother, Mr. McDo,Tokyo Joe, even old Clapsaddle. We're gonna get you out of here! We're on the case! Got seven P.I.s and six dirty ole men all demanding justice! Plus, Nick and Clyde, High Jack James and some guy named Duffy or Luffy or something all volunteered to help find the real killer! You'll be home before the bird can say "Bless you!"

He reached out to touch my arm but our escort snapped him away. The room fell silent and yet the moment was so sweet that even the cop blinked back tears. Hope was in the air. Hope and a strange kind of smell that turned out to be The Third's pungent custom made men's cologne, Arkansan Aroma. I became so emotional I wanted to hug my mother. But she was still in ICU. They tried to make her leave but she wouldn't go.

TO BE CONTINUED IN EPISODE TWENTY-FOUR

Will the parrot testify on Aachoo's behalf???

Will he taint the reputation of Patricia further

than it's already been tainted? Will he incriminate the cat?

Who can say? Who rubbed out the Shellack salesman named Si and why?

stay tuned for more thrilling adventures on................

AACHOO VOO PRIVATE EYE!!!!

written, created and posted by

©Voo Shining Stone

July 29, 2024

Thanks to...Lance, D'Sal, Tom, his brother, TWayne, Si,

Patricia, Man Nee, James'HighJack' Ray, Harold Clapsaddle,

Crackerjacks, Duffy, Luffy and anyone with an Absurd name.

Oh and Serbian pie thieves.......

Dedicated to my patient Number 1 Fan....David 'D'Sal' Salinas

Thanks for sticking with me and urging me on 💖

AACHOO LIVES!!!!!!💋

Link to Episode 24

https://aachoovooprivateeye2024.blogspot.com/2024/08/aachoo-voo-private-eye-episode-24.html

Friday, July 19, 2024

Aachoo Voo, Private Eye Episode 22 Tom B. Ozo's HAM BALL HAVEN

https://aachoovooprivateeye2024.blogspot.com/2024/07/aachoo-voo-private-eye-episode-twenty_19.html link to Episode 21

Aachoo Voo, Private Eye

Episode 22

Tom B.Ozo's Ham Ball Haven

Tom was excited. His mom was excited. I was excited. (Perhaps all for different reasons) I'll get to that later. Or maybe not. New York City was holding it's collective breath. A new eatery was opening up down the street from Clapsaddles'. Harold Clapsaddle was not excited. He was chewing nails and spitting unprintable words. Tom B.Ozo had worked for him for a few years as a dishwasher and fly killer and had been brilliant at both jobs. But what he'd really been brilliant at was creating brain twisting recipes and exotic menus that sometimes required a translator from the UN. Luckily for Tom B. his boss would occasionally have some sort of emergency (such as rescuing his grandmother out of a tree who was attempting to rescue her cat Roscoe out of a tree on a bi-monthly basis or some other hair-brained exasperating Clapsaddle family drama.) No wonder Harold was so grumpy and prone to pull pranks. A kind of revenge, I suppose.

The Fire Department guys had been called out so often to that tree that they'd finally refused to come anymore and told the family that it was strictly their problem but that they'd be happy to come back if ever the house was on fire. Besides, they were tired of being hissed at and ripped to shreds by that mean little critter. (And by that, I mean Harold's grandmother.)

On these occasions when Harold was forced to leave the city and take care of Clapsaddle Clan problems, he would leave Tom B. in charge of the always full coffee shop/sandwich shop/fine dining (in his dreams) well known, slightly illegal establishment. An occasion for which Tom B. was ever ready. He'd proudly whip out his starched white apron and tall pristine chef's hat and begin taking orders and creating cuisine that would rival that of the most creative and insane French, Appalachian and Norwegian chefs anywhere on the planet.

When word got out that Tom B. was cooking at Clapsaddles,' people would line up for blocks to see and hopefully taste some of his concoctions. Extra policemen had to be sent out to direct traffic on our street and to keep order while the customers gave their, you know...orders. One Friday at ten past lunchtime, twelve people had gotten arrested (I forget why) and once, a member of the royal family of England had been discreetly smuggled by incognito for a bit of Drunken Shepherd's Pie but had left deeply disappointed when Tom informed the valet that they were "all out of shepherds."

Have you ever heard of a Bloody Mary Souffle or Quack Quack Quiche or (so help me, God) Rabbit Foot Rarebit? I didn't think so. Ever had an edible necklace made of fresh asparagus and new potatoes? A soup that was so thick that you had to eat it with a knife and fork? I think he called it Shoe Leather Soup. (It was delicious.) I have no idea what was in it but it was delicious. And you didn't have to eat anything else for at least ten days, you were that full. My own personal favorite dish was Tom's Goose Noodles.

Tom could make a Cracker Jack Sandwich that would make you cry. (And break a tooth.) He'd whip up a Cactus and Cauliflower Casserole that you'd never forget no matter how badly you wanted to and his ever popular Beef-less Wellington....well...it would make you slap your mama as MiMi Voo would say. In fact, Tom liked that so much that he created a mysterious and savory dish called The Slap Your Mama in her honor. I don't exactly know what all the ingredients were but I know some of them came from MiMi's ice box sans fur all the way from Voo Bayou in Louisiana. Coo-ee!

When Tom was in charge, sometimes he'd call MiMi and she'd come rushing over with boxes full of things and work as his "sous- chef." She loved it and Poppi loved getting her out of his hair for a while. He'd rub his hands together and pull out his stamp collection and smile a little Mona Lisa smile (which is about the extent of a proper English gentleman's expression of excitement.) Anyway, it kept her out of trouble and the customers adored her. She usually went home with her pockets jingle jangling and her eyes twinkling. When MiMi was around Mr. D'Sal ate there every hour on the hour and had to starve himself the rest of the month to lose the weight. He was smitten with MiMi and her roux. (She called it Voo Roux) and boy, was it good! He even put it on his muffins.

If Harold ever suspected anything out of the ordinary going on while he was away he never said but his beady little German/Navajo eyes would fill with tears when he saw all the money in the till. (By the way, Clapsaddle is an Americanized spelling of the German word Klebsattel which is a nickname for a horseback rider.) I know because I asked Harold where he got that name after spending many sleepless nights wondering where he got that name. And I'm pretty sure you've been wondering the same thing so now we both know.

After giving it much thought and at the urging of myself and others who dared him to do it, Tom had at last, after years of plumbing, dreaming, opening, cooking, landscaping, fixing broken things, part-time clowning and investigating cases that I couldn't personally do, decided to open his very own restaurant. Tom had come up with a recipe for something he called Ham Balls and they started selling like hot cakes. Sometimes he ran a special deal on a Ham Balls and Hot Cakes twofer which sold like....well, you know. He made and sold them when Harold was away and he was filling in and even when Harold was there on the premises, Tom would meet customers truly addicted to the things out in the parking lot and sell them covertly out of his brother's truck. I'm telling you, people would do anything to get their hands on those......balls. And that would be his slogan when he began to run ads in the newspapers. (They wouldn't allow him to say it on television or radio though.)

They were made of ham, of course and God knows what else but they were very tasty and could be used in all sorts of recipes that called for balls. It was a no-brainer. Tom would open Tom B.'s Ham Ball Haven and fulfill his destiny. Harold would cry bitter tears when that day came but he never lost any of his customers aka dirty old men and soon came to realize that New York City was big enough for the both of them. His cash register would never be that full again but it was alright. MiMi would still drop by occasionally and cook up a mess of somethin' for him and "the boys" and everyone would be happy.

The King of Things T-Wayne Elliottt, Mr. D'Sal, Man Nee Joe and I would all invest in Tom B.'s new business and would make ourselves a small fortune. The decade of the 1940s was obviously the appointed time for Ham Balls and fulfilling destinies for a lot of us. I was thrilled for my friend Tom even though he was born without a last name and would remain last-nameless for many years until he met a gumshoe (me) named Aachoo Voo (Boy, that's a story in and of itself!) She would thoughtfully make him up one that seemed perfect, never dreaming that one day B Ozo would become the name of one of the most famous clowns in clownship history! Who would ever have foreseen and imagined that?! It was downright prophetic. (In a non-biblical way.) But it was a magical thing too and eventually, Tom started decorating his smaller ham balls like tiny clown heads and mothers would hire him to cater their kids' birthday parties where the man and his clownish balls were always a big hit. Tom was living the dream.