CHAPTER EIGHT-SEVEN Big Bad Baby Cop

When we last saw our heroes, they were called in to find a missing businessman. Upon arrival in a small town, they encountered a police officer who unwittingly tipped them off to strange goings-on in a local inn. Not only did they investigate, and were captured in their investigation, so, too, was the cop, who decided to do some investigation of his own. Now, with the lives of Mike, Eddie, and the cop all in peril, we breathlessly continue.

Meanwhile, the boy cop begins to regain consciousness. He looks around the room to check his surroundings. He sees his arms raised upward on either side of his head, then looks up only to discover his hands are tied and the rope is attached to a hook in the ceiling. He begins to panic and tries to yank himself free, each pull and tug only bringing out the veins in his bi-ceps. His breathing stunted, his face reddened, he grits his teeth, grimaces. This is not, of course, how he'd planned to spend his down time. Herman walks in and slams the door. "I thought you'd never wake up."

"What the heck is going on here? What is the MEANING of this?!?!?"

"You're that stupid little baby-cop that's always hangin' out around here, always gettin' coffee with your stupid partner - your DEAD partner. And now you and those two other idiot-fucks are snooping around here. What's the meaning of that, huh?"

Herman slams a right hook into the cop's chest, making him scream in pain. He refelexively doubles over, but he can't because he's being stretched, hands tied to the ceiling, his feet planted firmly on the ground.

"TELL ME!"

He gives him a backhand slap across the face, so forceful it sends his head back, and so painful he struggles to catch his breath.

"Why was my friend hanging from the wall in your basement? What're you gonna do with him?"

"If you gotta know, he's being tenderized. While he's hanging there, he'll be pounded so severely, he'll weaken, and fall unconscious, then we can grind him up. We do that with old guys who fuck with us - knock 'em out, grind them up and make meatloaf outta them - we sell it to the butcher down the street."

A look of horror and disgust comes over the cop's baby-face, "Holy Hannibal - you're CANNIBALS!"

"Yeah - and there ain't nothing you can do about it, neither. With you and them two other losers outta the way, me-n-my maw can get back to business. Which reminds me, I gotta go take care of that other little putz, but in the meantime - ya like movies, Baby-Cop?"

Herman reveals a tv set with a VCR. "I think you'll get off on this - I play this tape about 5, 6 times a day and jag off to it. I gotta keep a rag around 'cuz I'm always stainin' the carpet."

He turns the tape on and something looks familiar to the boy-cop. It's footage of a squad car in pursuit. Then the two cars pull over and two cops get out of the car. Boy Cop recognizes that it's himself and his late partner about to be ambushed by their suspect. It's video of their LAST RIDE together!!!

"You - you GHOUL! Where did you get this footage?"

"I heard some ruckus and got my video camera out and filmed the whole thing. I also did some cleaning up so now you can hear every shot, every scream. Good stuff, ain't it?"

"I get it! You're trying to drive me crazy! Well, it's NOT gonna work!"

"Oh, I wouldn't talk too soon. You've been a little down in the mouth since the whole thing happened. I think you feel guilty."

"What're you talkin' about?"

"I think it really gets to you that you caused your friend to die. It's all your fault. If you were a better shot, and got that guy first, your partner would still be alive, and you wouldn't be snooping around here like you are, but no, you had to be a bad little baby-cop and get your partner killed."

The Boy-Cop starts to struggle mightily against his bonds and he struggles to stifle a scream. He turns his head away, but Herman gives him another back-handed slap across the face and grabs him by the short hairs in the back of his head and holds his head in place.

"Did I say you could turn away, you little asshole - I said WATCH IT!"

The Boy Cop really starts screaming at this point. This is torture at its most sadistic. But Herman's not finished yet.

"So what was the plan, eh? I know you weren't just some bad aim. I think it was a set-up. I think you planned to get your partner killed so you could muscle in on his old lady and make off with some of that life insurance. What was it, about 2, 3 hundred thou?"

"YOU - DEMON! You low-life SCUMBAG. You just wait! I'll get outta this and you're gonna PAY!"

"No. You're not getting outta here the way you hope. There's only 3 ways and you're not gonna like any of them, but I'll love all of 'em. You're either gonna starve to death, go insane and get tossed in the loony bin, or, I could just put a bullet between your beautiful baby-blue eyes. I really haven't decided yet. By the way, I made a loop of this tape and it'll go on for at least two hours. Will you last that long? Hopefully not!"

He leaves and the Boy Cop, as beside himself as he is, continues to struggle, doesn't see the ropes giving way any time soon and lets out a blood curdling scream which gives way to sobs.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Meanwhile, Eddie, the third dynamic do-gooder, wakes up to find himself with his hands tied in the front with the rest of his body bed-bound by criss-cross wires pinned to the bed-frame. His head is the only part of his body he can move freely. "Holy Gulliver's Travels"

"I like that. It proves there's a mind underneath that fine fee-zeek of yours."

It's Herman, now joined by his maw.

"What's all this about?"

"You just never mind all that - we filled your crimefighting cronies in on all of that, and they'll tell you all about it when you all meet at that great cop-shop in the sky."

Eddie's a little confused. Of course he knows Mike as one crony. "You said crimefighting cronies, a plural. Is there someone else?"

"Yeah, some stupid little cop that felt like snooping around the place. Knucklehead shoulda stuck with directin' traffic - but that's neither here nor there. We're gonna kill all of youse - the other two are pretty much on the way out, so you got some catchin' up to do."

Eddie gets disgusted and starts gritting his teeth and catching his breath as he struggles against his bonds. "Oh, you think you're cleaver, don't ya! Using a bed-n-breakfast as a front to capture and kill your tourists, just so you can turn their remains into meatloaf! I've never heard of anything so diabolically DESPICABLE! You'll be brought to justice at some point - kill us all if you wish, but SOMEONE's gonna bring you down. YOU JUST WAIT!"

"Someone, huh? And just who did you have in mind?"

"Someone who's as dedicated to law enforcement as we are. There's plenty of us all out there. The good guys outnumber the bad guys at LEAST 10 to 1."

"Guess what, you little Shit-bag Sherlock. Your time has come. Your flesh isn't ripe enough to sell off, but I think I know who could stand a little nibble. Herman, hand mother the jar."

Herman reaches for a jar and hands it to his mother. She opens up the lid and starts sprinkling the contents. Eddie tries to move away, but he's hopelessly bound and can't move an inch. To his horror, he looks around and sees ants crawling all over him. He lets out a scream as they begin to bite.

"Holy Nick-In-The-Box! FIRE ANTS!"

Herman sneers, "Exactly. I guess me and you are CSI fans. Too bad you're on the wrong side of the law and wanna lock us up. We coulda been buddies. Now, Nick got outta this, but it doesn't look like you will. There's no Gil Grissom gonna find out where you are. You're on your own."

"Oh, Herman, dear, now that we've secured these little snoopers, what do you say we relax in the parlor with a bit of sherry."

"That's a good idea, maw - I could use a nip or two."

As Eddie screams and cries in agony, the two leave him to his fate - arm-in-arm - off to the parlor.

I'm afraid we have to leave you here with these images - Boy Cop screaming out for his partner as he watches him die repeatedly, Mike and Eddie both screaming out for each other while the bad guys relax with a nice nip of sherry in the parlor. Is there no justice?!?

Yes, there is, but we're not there yet - just read onto the next chapter and you'll see it all unfold. As Eddie would scream, YOU JUST WAIT!

CHAPTER EIGHTY-SIX - Dead and Breakfast

MIKE - It was a gorgeous spring Saturday morning and me-n-Eddie were out for a run, which really limbered us up for a good-old-fashioned roll in the hay - hearts pumpin', the slight scent of male sweat from us both, our sweat-stained bodies merged into one - Eddie's soft, supple lips - I could not believe I was blessed with this boy's body belongin' to me - the quiverin' climax as our bodies shook somewhat as we both came at the same time - God, I loved that cool sensation of those drops of cum falling on me, rolling down. Our moans gave way to long, deep breaths as we smiled as we went limp - Eddie's head on my chest - my hands running through his hair - a nice cool shower was just the thing for us, then it was off for the rest of the day - no plans of which we were aware, just basking in our love for each other.

EDDIE - Bur that, of course, was before the doorbell rang. We sighed and looked at each other as if to say, do we really have to - but we did. Love for each other and our love for the Job go hand in hand. One of the first things we had in common was our life-long dedication to law enforcement. A cop marries a civilian, or at least gets involved with one, and it can get complicated. Couples go by the way side with "I don't see you anymore" - a cop gets caught in the crossfire - does he save his partner or protect himself - then he goes home and there's another crossfire - does he save his marriage or does he do what he's born to do. You may as well not even exist if you're not doin' what God put you here to do. That's what's so great about us - we don't get a lotta free time to ourselves, but I get so turned on watching Mike in action and I'm right by his side the whole time. Forget People magazine - Mike is the sexiest man alive every month - every year.

Anyway, we open up to find this distraught dame at our doorstep.

"Can you please help me?"

"That's what we're here for, ma'am - what's the trouble?"

"My husband is missing - it's now been 48 hours, so he's officially missing."

"Yes, ma'am"

"Your last interaction with him - was it in person...on the phone...?"

"The phone - you see, my husband travels quite a bit for his career - he partakes in seminars on the prevention of terrorist financing and other financial crimes."

Me-n-Mike exchange glances - "ah, a good guy".

"The last time I heard from him, he was on the road and he was driving into a small town and said he was found a place to stay for the night - some little bed-n-breakfast, he calls it - isn't that quaint?"

"Yes, ma'am - quaint"

"I've been having trouble reaching him - you can imagine all sorts of thoughts running through my head, such as has he been harmed in some way - or is he having an affair..."

MIKE - Her demeanor then did an about-face to anger as she snarled, "I will absolutely murder him if he's sleeping around, I mean...."

EDDIE - I put my hand up to stop her from going on, "Ma'am, never talk about killing in front of two law enforcement officers."

"Well, that is just an expression."

MIKE - "And it's also not good of you to go in that direction. He could really be in trouble, and you're entertainin' thoughts of him takin' a cheap roll in the hay - you'd never forgive yourself for what you thought, so put that outta your mind. You're upset enough just by not knowin' where he is, but that's where we come into the picture. Now, we're gonna help you find this guy, or at least find out what's goin' on with him."

"You last talked to him on the phone - I assume he called you."

"Yes"

"First off, we're gonna check your phone records, find out where this call came from, and we take it from there."

"In the meantime, all you can do is go about your business like you normally would. We'll keep you posted with whatever we find."

MIKE - According to this guy's phone records, the last place he called his wife from was located in this little hick town, about 20 to 25 miles from the city, but that was 3 days ago - no tellin' whether he'd stuck around or what - his wife gave us a photo and we decided to chat up some of the locals, maybe they'd remember him. We arrived in this little burg, population 6, I guess (heh-heh) and no sooner than that, we saw a squad car behind us. The blue lights started flashin', so we pulled over to get out of his way - the guy probably had an emergency - but ya know what! WE were the emergency.

"What the heck, Boss-Man?"

"Ya know how cliqueish these small towns are - they see a strange car comin' in and think we're illegal aliens, or some crap."

"Now, now, now - Hilary Clinton says we can't call 'em that anymore."

"No foolin'?"

"Yep - we gotta call 'em Undocumented Workers from now on."

I laughed and rubbed Eddie's hair, "aw, get outta town."

"I think that's what this guy wants us to do."

And the cop gets out of the squad car. A rather imposing figure, I gotta say. He steps out, spreads his legs apart as he adjusts his cap with both hands, one for the beak, the other for the back, and he walks, no, swaggers his way over to us HIgh-Noon style, his thick hairy arms swingin' back and forth, his tight, painted-on uniform pants followin' his every move. He stops at my window, and his beautiful boyish clean-shaven mug has a big smile across it. He seems like the friendly type, I was hopin'.

"How you guys doin' today?"

"Oh, okay, I guess - and you?"

"Just fine, thanks. Say, would ya both mind steppin' outta the car for me?"

"Yeah, sure"

Eddie pipes in, "what's the problem, officer? Were we speedin' or somethin'?"

The cop sways back and forth a little, balancin' himself on his legs, proppin' himself up on his toes a bit, head tilted slightly, facial expression suggestin' he'd been around the block a few times. Sexy, yes, but a little odd when you consider he had the face of a 12 year-old. No, not that young, but boyish, just the same. Maybe he knew we were from outta town and was tryin' to impress us. He kinda was. Oh, yeah, he had the rough-n-ready cop choreography down to a science, he did.

"Holy halogens - gosh, I'm sure sorry, Mike, I meant to replace that one."

"Don't sweat it, kid - these things happen."

"I pulled you guys over 'cuz a busted light could mean anything - maybe somethin' you're smugglin' leaned on the wiring and shorted it. Can I take a look in your trunk?"

"Yeah - sure thing"

I pop the trunk open for him, but there's nothin' in it. Little Boy Blue sure came to blow it - and I don't mean his horn.

"Oh, yeah, uh, license and registration, please."

Me and Eddie look at each other like, is this his first day or something, but we didn't bat an eyelash. Poor kid's strugglin' here, but maybe he'll be a good cop one of these days - if only for his own sake.

I give the guy what he wanted and his cocky veneer gave way to outright hero worship - his baby-blues opened as wide as they could, he looked at us like we were in Lourdes.

"Holy Mickey Spillane - the Dashin' Duo! I can't believe I'm actually meeting you guys - that's what they used to call US around here." Then he tips his cap to us and puts his hands behind his back in a deferential stance.

"So...what brings you gentlemen out in these parts?"

"Dame comes up to us, sayin' her husband's gone missing - so we checked her phone records, seein' where it was he called her from last - and that led us here."

Eddie picks up the ball - "Right - it only lists the address so we're not quite sure where this last call came from. I'm sure you'd know what this place is."

The cop looks at the address listed and a look of concern mixed with a dash of dread comes over his face.

"Y-you guys don't wanna know."

"What're ya talkin' about?"

"It's an old bed and breakfast run by some old dame and what might be her son."

"Bed and breakfast? That sounds harmless enough."

"But it isn't - at least according to what I've been seein'."

"Such as..."

His eyes dart back and forth and he motions for us to lean forward, as he leans over to us as if to whisper - our shoulders rubbin' up against each other, like a football huddle.

"I go up and down this street a lot, see a lotta travelers go in, but I never see 'em leave. Just Hoss Cartwright and his old lady."

"Hoss Cartwright?"

"Yeah, that's what the kid reminds me of - yeah, that's the clearest way I have of describing people - so, anyway, I never see these guys check out, just those two chucking a bunch of bags in the dumpsters."

"Well, did you ever think of acting on your suspicions and checking out those things?"

"Yeah, a bunch of times, but the Chief always waves me off, sayin' I got too much imagination and he goes 'who do you think you are, Eddie Robinson?' "

Eddie chuckles at this remark. "Gee, looks like I am somebody now."

"So the police never saw fit to see what's goin' on over there?"

"'Fraid not - they always pay their taxes, keep the place neat, never any violations. No one has a leg to stand on."

"Yeah, well now you do - four of 'em, not to mention the ones of the missing guy here. Do me a favor - let your boss know we're in town, checking things out here. Maybe this too-much-imagination is really intuition."

"Gee, that's sure nice of you to say."

"Not a problem - I can recognize a really good egg when I see one, and when you're ready to hatch, you'll know it. In the meantime, though, I appreciate the info on this place. The two of us'll check it out."

"Any way of me finding out what went on?"

"Don't you worry - whenever we're around, even an ostrich has no trouble keeping up to speed."

Eddie remembered the cop's remark about "US", then looks around and sees there's only the one cop.

"You mentioned an "US" - Where's the other one - I don't see a partner."

From cocksure, to gee whillikers to mournful - his face was acrobatic. His lip suddenly tightening, his eyes downcast, then puppy-sad as he looked back up at us - it was then I spotted a small black band blazoned on his badge.

"When did it happen?"

Fightin' back the tears, his adam's apple went up and down faster than the Dow Jones.

"Couple of weeks ago - we pulled a speeder over, he opened fire, hitting us both. I popped him right in the head. Me and my partner lyin' on the ground after we finished him off, waitin' for help, the bullets had us in agony - pep-talkin' each other to stay strong, be tough, we're gonna make it through - maybe go for a beer after they stitch us up. But he closed his eyes and that was it. I've been askin' myself ever since why it was me that made it and he didn't. He had a wife and kids - I thought I got popped enough so he'd live, too. I was a bad cop. Why couldn't I save his life? I musta done somethin' wrong."

"Now listen to me - you're a good cop. You avenged your partner's life and you stopped this thug before he could go on and do this to someone else. You're a true hero, my friend."

"It just isn't right - he should be here with me now and he isn't."

Eddie added, "He is. He's in your heart, he's in your thoughts. Always remember him, always talk about him. Every action you take in that uniform, behind that badge, should be dedicated to his memory. He'll always be with you and you'll always do good."

"You helped the real Dashin' Duo with their investigation. Think about that, too, before you even think of callin' yourself a bad cop again."

He put his hand out and me and Eddie shook it. "Thank you - thank you both. What you both said means a lot to me. The guys on the force always joked that we were the Dashin' Duo of these parts and now I'm standin' face to face with you - the guys're not gonna believe this. Well, you guys have a missing person to track down, so I'm gonna let you get back to that and I'm gonna get back on the beat"

He tips his hat to us and turns to trot back to his squad car and jumps in and drives off.

We arrive at this bed-n-breakfast - I stand in the doorway with my arms folded, and the old lady, described by the boy cop, greets us at the door, "good afternoon, how can I help you gentlemen today? Would you like to see a room?"

I respond, "no, thank you, ma'am, we're private investigators, here about a particular guest - guy said to have checked in about 3 days ago."

I sense a bit of fidgety-ness from this one, "3 days ago? How do you know he was here?"

Eddie pipes in, clutching his fist, then points to her, "The last phone call he placed to his wife was three days ago, and his phone records list this as the address from which that phone call was placed."

I take out the photo his wife provided, "I would think this gentleman looks familiar to you."

It was then the hair was raised on the back of my neck. Her lip began to quiver and her eyes darted back and forth as she tried to keep her composure. I was unsettled by this and I nudged Eddie who looked at me and nodded slightly. He, too, was feeling a little unsteady by this and we looked at each other and back at her.

"No, I - I don't believe I've seen this person before. This - this is a very small town and we know everyone here and, um, so of course I'd recognize this person if I saw him."

Her suspicious gestures, with this address listing, not to mention the ill ease and suspicion of the boy cop, told us this must be the place and that there's something here for us to clean up - we just had no idea what.

Eddie, again with fist in hand, "we would consider it a courtesy if we could have a look around."

The lady continued to contend for composure, "of course - I'd be happy to show you around."

Me-n-Eddie searched every room of the joint - every room to which she allowed access, that is - there was a parlor, a kitchen, etc., and the rooms themselves were immaculately kept up. There was, however, one room from which the old bag kept swaying us, further feeding our fishy feelings and suspicions that something seemed strange.

"Now, if you gentlemen wouldn't mind, I do have a business to run."

A business to run? From the looks of things, it didn't appear there was much business goin' on. What's there to run, we asked ourselves. The old lady showed us the door. I gave her my card and said if there was anything she could remember, to please call us. She responded that she'd be more than willing to help, if she could.

But she's not gonna be of any help, we finally concluded. This is a time we gotta help ourselves. We got in the car and drove away. Of course we were faking. We'd never just pick up and leave when everything seems in apple-pie order, 'cuz you know that's the time it's not.

As we slowly drove away, Eddie noticed something out of the corner of his baby-blue eyes, "Holy Lexus! Look what they've got in the back."

Sure enough, it was a Lexus. We got a look at the license plate for which I ran the number. Sure enough again, it belonged to our guy.

Eddie wrung his hands and swallowed hard, "holy spinal shivers."

"My thoughts exactly. The boy cop was as right as a Republican. These folks did something to him - and me and you are gonna find out and put a stop to this."

"RIGHT YOU ARE!"

We creep back and have a look around the outer perimeter of this joint, peeking in all the windows. There was one which was covered with dust, or something. Eddie's eyes opened wide in horror as he heard a noise.

"Hold up, Boss-Man - listen."

We made no move, we made no sound, so I could hear what Eddie might've heard. It sounded like moaning - coming from the dusty window. We somehow managed to pry it open and to our horror, we saw the missing man tied up and hanging from a ceiling, struggling to loosen his bonds - we also noticed what looked like some kind of grinder - there was a conveyor belt and a blade at the end. He looked at us and got even more scared. We waved our hands and said "no - no - no - we're here to help you." We took out our badges. We untied him.

"Oh, God, I don't know how I can thank you."

"Just having you alive and outta this jam, but, tell us - what's all this goings-on here?"

"It's been a nightmare. I checked into this place about 3 days ago - right after I spoke with my wife - who must be in hysterics right now."

"Yes, sir - she hired us to find you."

"Anyway, I guess I was being a little too high-maintenance - next thing I knew I was hit in the head with something and when I got my sea-legs back, so to speak, I was hanging here being tenderized."

"Tenderized?"

"Being savagely beaten so I'd weaken - so I'd be easier to kill - so they could throw me on that contraption and grind me into meatloaf."

"Into WHAT?"

"Meatloaf - ground beef - they were going to murder me and grind my remains into meat and use it for food."

"HOLY SWEENEY TODD!"

"Yes, something like that - nice show - too bad I'll never hear that score in the same way again. The memories of this would be too hard."

"Yes, sir - memories."

"Anyway, we got this skinny of this, but you gotta get the heck outta here and fast - we saw your car outside hidden in a weeping willow tree. You got your keys still?"

He looked inside his pockets and found them. "Yes- right here."

"Get the heck outta dodge and go back to your wife. We'll phone her and notify her, and we'll meet her back in town as soon as we clean up this mess around here."

The man climbed out the window and made a mad dash for his car and sped off. Me-n-Eddie were plotting our next move.

"Looks like our work here's just begun, huh, Boss-Man!"

"Sure as shootin' - but let's get outta here for the time bein' and..."

"HOLD IT - Do not make a move!"

We were caught - thank our lucky stars our missing man was good and safe - now it's just time to get ourselves undone.

"Now turn around slowly, hands up."

We did as we were ordered. We were facing our captor, holdin' two weapons on us. He musta been what the boy cop called "Hoss Cartwright" - an old bag was standin' next to him.

"Holy Harold and Maude."

Callin' her "maude" wasn't too far off - that smoky manly voice comin' outta some old dame - a little creepy.

"You there, the older one - we saw you dispense of our guest - we have you for breaking and entering now. I thought I made it clear to you earlier. Herman, tie him up and hang him on the rack - he sent the other man packing so he can take his place."

"Right, ma."

As I was being tied and hung up, I spouted, "so, I guess you're gonna make mince-meat outta me, huh?"

"That would be the plan, yes."

Eddie chimed in - "I know I'm not gettin' off scot-free - whatcha gonna do with me?"

"First - this."

"AAAAH!"

Eddie was blasted with taser darts, falling to the floor, shaking uncontrollably, totally immobilized. He eventually passed out. I screamed his name out. He didn't hear me.

"When you get done hanging Sam Spade, you can take Jimmy Olsen over to Room 12. His flesh isn't ripe enough to be sold in these parts, but I have other plans for it. Now, off with him."

"Right, ma."

Eddie was slung over the slug's shoulder and taken away. My hands were bound in front, then I was hoisted on my own pitard so to speak. I saved a guy from a grisly fate, only to have to face it myself. Holy tag-team.

Meanwhile, back at the cop shop, the rest of the boy cop's shift just could not go quickly enough. All he had on his mind was meeting Mike and Eddie and this missing man. As he told the Dashing Duo, he'd always been stricken curious about the goings-on of the establishment. Red lights, stop signs, seat-belts, parking violations, none of this mattered to him. He was all about that seemingly innocent, yet somehow creepy little b-n-b. A mother and son-run business couldn't be more wholesome, but yet, it couldn't be more opaque. His wheels spinning, the now-off-duty officer came to the conclusion that if something is really innocent-looking on the front, yet the goings-on just would not leave his mind alone, it was never more transparent in its opaquity.

The boy cop is now off duty and he changes into his street clothes of the day - a grey tee-shirt which slightly stretches across his broad muscular shoulders, the sleeves only covering half of his upper arms, and shorts which only cover half of his muscular thighs, when he decides to snoop around the bed-n-breakfast himself. He creeps along the outside of the establishment and peeks in some windows and sees Mike hanging on the wall. Mike notices him there and has a flash of relief "thank God, I'm gettin' outta this..." The boy cop's mouth and eyes open wide in horror then his expression changes to angst as he mutters "holy...."

Then Mike's brief sense of relief subsides and turns back into depair as he hears:

THUMP

OW!

SPLAT!

He falls to the ground, face-first, grabbing the back of his head and moaning, and being hoisted by Herman/Hoss and heisted away.

HOLY TRIPLE THREAT - WHAT IS THIS?!?!? Three boys of the badge in doom-laden peril. Mike is about to be tenderized and ground into beef - that much we know - but if your appetite is whetted for the fates of the Baby-Blue Boy Cop and the Boy Friday, you'll read of the horrifying happenings and egregious events in the next chapter.