The Toilet Paper Caper: Chapter 13
By: Dan Leicht
Tags: Humor, Toilet Paper Caper, Mystery, Fiction, Stark Mystery

The constant cackling from the two aging puppets in the balcony was getting to me. How long had they been up there? The dead-eyed demeanor of the frog host churned in my stomach, I could feel my eyes turning to sliced ping-pong balls dotted with magic marker. There was a pig dressed in burlesque sitting atop a piano as a dog swooped his ears away from his face and jammed the keys down as if Beethoven himself was tickling his dark-side. It was maddening.

As the commercial break ran its course all the puppets puffed on unlit cigarettes, I wasn’t sure what the point was, but with a hand that far up I couldn’t blame them. I nodded to the frog and bummed a coffin nail, lit it from the last of a pack of matches I’d had in my coat’s inner pocket, and took the longest drag of the century.

It wasn’t long before the cameras were rolling again. Whipple whispered from the parted curtain, coercing me to get on with the show. Did I have lines? Maybe he’d been gallivanting alongside another version of me in some other time, rehearsing lines while sliding along the cosmic tunnel. I was at a loss for words until the pig stared me down and karate chopped the air, it wouldn’t be long until she’d make her way over to me and turn me into hard-boiled pork chops. Then I saw him, sitting in the crowd and politely clapping — Rambo Lion Lawyer. Why was he there? More or less to remind me I had at least one hidden talent.

The camera panned away to the frog giving a blank stare then back to me, but in that short time, I’d transformed (think Jim Carrey with a Green face and maracas) into something with a bit more pizzazz. I picked my coat up from the stage and pulled a mic stand out of my inner pocket, along with some cherry flavored lip balm. With puckered lips, I channeled my inner Sinatra and let the theater have it. The laughing of the two grumpy old men in the balcony was drowned out by the uproarious applause. I wasn’t sure what I was saying, but the crowd sure loved hearing the “Macarena”.

Before I hit the final pose a drum-roll started and my mic cut out. I turned my attention to the cannon set up on the other stage, where a blue alien was preparing to climb in — presumably to be shot out. I couldn’t catch his name but it reminded me of a Rolling Stone writer that’d ironically done something similar. With everyone focused on the act I took my shot and snagged the frog.

I disappeared behind the curtain and ushered Whipple to follow me as we made our escape. The frog was lifeless in my arms, it wasn’t until we started playing doctor that he found his voice.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he croaked.

Whipple and I were panting, out of breath, and too human to be on the run for this long. We took refuge in a dressing room and locked the door behind us.

“Give it a rest, pal,” I said to my own hand wrapped in felt. “You stink like an old coat. When’s the last time you were sent to the dry cleaners?”

“You’re going to be in big trouble for this,” said my own hand. I couldn’t feel my fingers moving to chirp the words, it was as if he’d taken over.

“Enough with the threats,” I looked behind me to Whipple and nodded, “we’ve got a way out if things go south, no pun intended. Now tell me what “FUNEX” and “FUNEM” mean. Spill the details and I’ll spare you the rinse cycle.”

It was then that I noticed we weren’t alone. Staring at me from the corner of the room was a slender fellow dressed in a lab coat, with a tuft of orange hair bobbing on his head. His eyes boiled and he looked like he was about to pop.

The frog turned to me and somehow pulled off a smug expression using my index and ring fingers.

“You’re in for it now,” he said, “once he goes off they’ll all coming running. Bet you didn’t check the name on the door of this dressing room either. We’re in the pig’s playhouse and she hasn’t karate chopped anyone yet this episode. Won’t be long until she busts that door down.”

I turned to Whipple and nodded, he shrugged.

“Get us out of here,” I said. My nerves ignited my body as if I’d just escaped a botched acupuncture attempt.

“I can’t. The device isn’t working,” cried Whipple.

Another clue was literally in my grasp and the lab coat siren was about to go off.