The Bumfuzzel Brigade
by The Fat Lady Sings, Fri Oct 28, 2005 at 01:24:45 PM EDT
On the face of it - you would think that it's over - one of the lieutenants dutifully fell on the proffered sword; his spilled blood ostensibly obscuring the complicity of those higher up the food chain. Not so fast, Nelly. Old Scooter there may have embraced the blade with a little too much enthusiasm. He may have succeeded in temporarily throwing dust in the eyes of his pursuers, but our bumfuzzel brigade stayed listening at the keyhole a little too long. The ground is covered with footprints, and those bloody tracks lead right back to Mr. Tin Pot himself - and I'm not referring to his assassin Humpty Dumpty.
At some point, Paddy Fitz, the torpedo from Chicago, will zero in on that failed Italian art student turned Bond wannabe - then Bob's your uncle! Down will come baby, cradle and all - and all the tears and finger pointing in the world won't make one whit of difference - and this time there will be no junior officers to shoulder the blame. Something's rotten in the state of Denmark - and it will take a whole lot more than Houdini fast sleight-of-hand to misdirect this one! Giddy-up Mr. Prosecutor - let's all plan on attending Taste of Chicago, shall we?
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