Action Men with Duct Tape – Susan Joy Clark

Action Men with Duct Tape, Suspense Serial

Action Men with Duct Tape, Part 5 (Mystery Comedy Serial)

User:Lar, CC BY-SA 3.0 http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/, via Wikimedia Commons

Early, the next morning, after loading Lars, Jack’s Volvo, with boxes of product and display banners, I woke the kids. Bronwyn had taken up temporary residence on an air mattress in Jack’s home office.

I knocked and opened the door. “Wakey, wakey, eggs and bakey,” I said.

For what seemed like several minutes, she stared at me through the slits of her eyelids without saying anything. Finally, she said, “Is there eggs and bakey?”

This is part of a series. You can just jump in and try to follow as with a movie in progress or you can go to the links for previous episodes. You can find Part 1 here, Part 2 here, Part 3 here and Part 4 here.

“Uh … no,” I said. Jack and I do not cook. “We have cereal and toast … or, rather, we have bread with the potential of becoming toast. I’m not sure I’d risk it though. Sometimes, the toaster spits out bread that has failed to become toast and, sometimes, it spits out charcoal.”

Bronwyn fell backwards onto the air mattress like a toppling domino and did not move.

“No!” I said. “Clothes on body.” Somehow, I spontaneously adopted a kind of cave man language, as if this was easier for the half-asleep mind to understand. “Outside go.” I pointed out the window. “In car drive.” I pantomimed this also, with my hands on an imaginary steering wheel. Somehow, I had created a language that was halfway between a now politically incorrect Tonto talk and Yoda speak.

The domino righted itself again. “Food in stomach.”

“Fine. Hurry. Get dressed.” I looked at my watch. “We have time to take you and Dec out to the place that keeps Uncle Jack and I alive, before heading into the city. You can get eggs and bakey and … other things Jack and I are incapable of making for you.” I then realized I had to remove myself if I wanted my instructions followed. I walked out and closed the door, trusting that some action other than sleeping would take place.

Dec, thankfully, was already up and dressed, sitting on the couch, reading. Jack was standing nearby, in a squinty-eyed state similar to Bronwyn, a mug of coffee in his hand. He had dressed in clothes … of some sort.

“This is your ensemble?” I asked Jack, looking him up and down.

“Sure. Why not?”

“You know, I’m not even going to argue with it,” I said, “because if there’s anyplace in which this outfit would be appropriate, it’s the New York Toy Fair.”

It is an understatement to say that Jack’s fashion sense is different than mine. He dressed nearly every day like a signboard — a loud, neon signboard — for the toy industry, but, perhaps at the fair, it would be tolerated and possibly appreciated. At the moment, he was sporting a straw trilby hat with a Twister spot hatband, a cobalt blue dress shirt, black and white checkerboard suspenders, a black tie with a design of colorful, floating Tetris shapes and customized Converse shoes printed with Steamboat Willie puffing around the perimeter. A pocket watch dangling from a belt loop featured the faces of Woody and Buzz Lightyear from Toy Story.

I found this on Etsy. This is not an affiliate link. I just thought you might like some visuals of the idea. 🙂

“I can’t decide if you look like you are about to go perform at a children’s party or at a ska festival,” I told him.

“Thanks, Andy,” said Jack.

He would go and take that as a compliment.

“I have an idea for the kids too,” said Jack. “Since Bronwyn was so concerned about being recognized at the event. You were actually onto something yesterday when you mentioned something about a costume for a disguise.” Jack wagged a finger at me.

“I mentioned a hot dog costume … as a joke,” I said. “I think if you are serious about that one, Bronwyn’s eye rolls are going to escalate into actual violence. I believe she knows how to use her powers for good, but keep in mind this is one kid who is wickedly skillful with a pair of nunchuks.”

“Andy,” said Jack. “I’ve been meaning to tell you that you’re a little too prone to hyperbole.”

“Say what?”

“Exaggeration.”

“Right.”

Instead of addressing my question, Jack sat down on the couch beside Dec and pulled out a cell phone. After dialing, he muttered some unknown sounds into the phone. “Hej. Har du et par kostumer, vi kan bruge?”

I’m not an expert linguist, but I can usually at least identify the sounds of Italian, French, Spanish or German. These were sounds I could not even place.

After a few more seconds, Jack said, “Mange tak.”

“What were you just saying?” I asked him. “Please, tell me that you weren’t just talking in Klingon or Elvish to one of your geek friends.”

“No,” said Jack. “If I were talking in Klingon, it would be, ‘nuqneH. vaj, chomaw’chugh, vaj tugh ‘e’ DaHar’a’?’ and then, ‘qatlho’qu’. tugh qalegh.’”

I did a face palm. “I should have known. Does your geekdom know no limits?”

Jack looked up and into the upper right corner for just a second. “No, I don’t think so, Andy.” Then, he gave just a hint of a smile.

“So, it wasn’t Klingon, though you are, apparently, fairly proficient in it. Can you enlighten the rest of us on what that was all about?”

“I was just talking to Johan Nielsen* of the Lego company, and he is going to loan us a couple of costumes for the kids to wear at the fair.”

I still had more questions than answers at this point, but I couldn’t resist teasing and jabbing at him some more. “So, you were talking Danish, I suppose?” Again, I’m no linguist, but I am a toy man, and I know where Lego is headquartered. “You know an impressive smattering of languages, but I am still willing to bet even money that Niels Jorgensen …”

“Johan Nielsen.”

“Whatever … knows English better than you know Danish.”

Jack just shrugged a shoulder. “It’s always good to keep in practice.”

It might be evil of me, but it somehow made me feel better to remember that Mr. Know-it-all was not, in fact, actually omniscient.

Just then, Bronwyn made her entrance into the living room, wearing the new cupcake design T-shirt she had just picked up at the mall.

“So,” I prodded Jack. “You were saying … costumes? Just exactly what and how …?”

“I’ll explain everything over breakfast.” He pointed to the front door. “To the Salvador Deli.”

To be continued …

*Although the Lego company is, of course, very real, Johan Nielsen is purely fictional.

I am pinging Danish blogger friend, Le Drake Noir, (check out his wonderful travel photography,) because I used Google Translate for the Danish phrases in this post, and I thought it would be helpful to have a native speaker check it. Google Translate is not always perfect.

Lastly, if you are enjoying this or other posts in this series, I would love feedback or a comment. 🙂

Action Men with Duct Tape, Suspense Serial

Action Men with Duct Tape, Part 4 (Mystery Comedy Serial)

I could breathe a little easier knowing that the superfan had left the building … or, at least, the food court.

“So, what did you buy?” I asked Jack and Dec.

“A camera drone,” said Dec, “and a GoPro.” He pulled two boxes out of a BestBuy bag.

If you want to check out previous episodes, you can find Part 1 here, Part 2 here and Part 3 here.

“A camera drone and a GoPro?” I looked at Jack and not Dec, with raised eyebrows, thinking he was spoiling the kid to a ridiculous degree.

Dec seemed to sense my unspoken thoughts. “Uncle Jack didn’t buy them. I’ve been earning money, and I saved up.”

“So, you’re into filming?” I asked him.

“Well, filming and … tech in general.”

Like uncle, like nephew. “The apple doesn’t fall far from the … branch that’s connected to your mother’s tree.”

Now, it was Dec’s turn to raise his eyebrows at me. “Huh?”

“That made much more sense in my mind before it came out my mouth,” I said. “You’re like your uncle.”

“Ah. Right,” said Dec.

“Well, maybe I didn’t buy gifts at the mall,” said Jack, “but I do have gifts for both Dec and Bronwyn, but they’re waiting back at the condo. They’re too big for my pockets.” He patted his overstuffed trenchcoat pockets.

If the gifts were really too big for his pockets, that was saying something. Jack wore that trenchcoat everywhere, rain or shine, and he must have had the equivalent of the contents of three women’s purses in there. Well, when I say that, I am talking in terms of storage, not that he was carrying lipsticks and powder puffs. No, Jack carried an interesting assortment of junk that seemed completely unnecessary … until it was, and that roll of duct tape came in handy for a makeshift fix or that magnifying glass could help with reading the fine print on a box of vitamins while shopping in the pharmacy.

After Jack and Dec joined the sugarfest that Bronwyn and I had started, and we split a giant Cinnabon the size of a small island nation four ways, we did head back to the condo.

pingping, CC BY-SA 2.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0, via Wikimedia Commons

Once back in the condo, we made ourselves comfortable. I got very comfortable, lying flat on my back on the couch, with George, the beagle, lying down on my stomach. I could take up all this space, because the two kids were content to sprawl on the floor in the floor cushions. Jack perched on the edge of his chair. “I suppose you two are too old for action figures.”

“I’m not,” said Dec. This was an interesting remark, because at 15, he was the oldest of the two.

I shrugged. “I’m not either.” I mean, Jack owns a toy business, and I’m his right hand man. I expect I will never grow up.

Bronwyn said, “I guess I’m not too old to display them … like with my Pop figures.”

Jack smiled. “Well, I think you are going to like these, because they are very special. They’re tied with the Blaze comic series. We’re going to release them to the public at the toy fair tomorrow.” He pulled a box from a bag. Through the cellophane panel, you could see a pre-teen girl figure with double French braids in her strawberry blonde hair. In separate compartments, a plastic backpack and other accessories were on display. Jack handed the box to Bronwyn.

Bronwyn rested the box against her raised knees and stared at it for several moments. “She looks like me,” she said.

“Well, as you know, you and Dec were very inspirational to my characters,” said Jack. “This is Farryn, Blaze’s niece.”

She then looked over the accompanying accessories. “A hoop, pins, ribbon … rhythmic gymnastics equipment and … nunchuks? I do rhythmic gymnastics and martial arts. She practically is me … but like in a parallel universe.”

Minerva97, CC BY-SA 4.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0, via Wikimedia Commons

“Wonder Woman has her magic lasso. Farryn has her ribbon of doom,” I said. That wasn’t quite the way it was written in the comic series, but I thought I’d be dramatic.

Jack presented a box to Declan next. “This is Hunter, Blaze’s nephew and Farryn’s trusty sidekick.”

“Wait, I’m her sidekick?” said Declan, as if he already completely identified with the character.

“Let me reword that,” said Jack. “Partner.”

The teen boy figure had a dark wavy coif just like Declan, although the figure’s hair was in molded plastic. The figure’s accessories included a drone, strangely similar to what Declan just bought himself, a smart watch, walkie talkies and a remote control car, all in miniature.

“Wow,” said Dec. “Bron and I are superheroes. You are the coolest uncle, Uncle Jack.” Dec turned to me. “And, Uncle Andy, you are the coolest uncle by association.”

“It’s super cool, Uncle Jack. Thank you so much.” She began to open her box. “Only … only … I think the superfan we met in the mall knows I’m her. I think he recognizes me.”

There was a pause. “Well,” I said. “Don’t worry about that. Tomorrow, at the toy fair, we’ll sneak you in wearing a hot dog suit. People may want to eat you, but no one will recognize you.”

I was beginning to lose count at how many times Bronwyn could roll her eyes at me.

Later, after the kids went to bed, Jack asked me, “Did I make a mistake … making the characters so similar to the kids?”

“Well,” I said. “You wouldn’t be the first to do something like that. Look at A.A. Milne and Christopher Robin. Milne made a character based on his kid.”

“Yeah,” said Jack. “But it was a different world back then, don’t you think?”

To be continued …

Action Men with Duct Tape, Suspense Serial

Action Men with Duct Tape, Part 3 (Mystery Comedy Serial)

With links to previous episodes

As Bronwyn and I walked over to join the end of the line at Starbucks, I couldn’t help feeling that the eyes of the superfan we’d just met were still following our every move. I resisted the urge to turn around and confirm my suspicions. Besides, if I was wrong, wouldn’t I be the one being the creepy creeper dude by staring at him?

(Ahem.) We interrupt this programming to say that, if you missed parts 1 and 2 of this series, it’s very understandable. The flow of this series was interrupted for a long time. You can find Part 2 here and Part 1 here. You should “start at the very beginning, a very good place to start.”

“So, should I get you one of those Pokemon Go frappuccinos?” I asked Bronwyn.

“I want a mocha frappuccino,” said Bronwyn.

“Aren’t you too young for coffee?”

“It’s a frappuccino. It’s practically a milkshake. Uncle Jack lets me have coffee flavored ice cream.”

“Ye-ah,” I said, my voice sliding from a high to low note. “But actual coffee has too much caffeine. It’s my duty as your uncle by proxy to protect you from drugs.”

“Drugs?” said Bronwyn. “It’s caffeine, not crack.”

At the mention of crack, my protective instincts turned up a notch … or twenty. “Crack? Who’s been talking to you about crack?” I asked.

“The police.”

“The police!”

Bronwyn rolled her blue eyes at me. “I’m in the D.A.R.E. program … you know where they teach about drug prevention.”

“Right,” I said.

“Plus,” she said. “I watch TV. I don’t live in a cave.”

“Right,” I said. “Well, caffeine is still a drug … albeit a socially acceptable one.”

In the process of this whole, interesting discussion on drugs, we had worked our way to the front of the line.

“Hi,” I told the barista. “I’d like a cold brew for myself, and she’d like a …”

“I want a mocha …” Bronwyn put in.

At this point, I took Bronwyn into a loving chokehold. Let me rephrase that. I gave Bronwyn a sideways hug that strongly resembled a chokehold. “She’d like one of those unicorn drinks or whatever you have that’s pink and girly and non-caffeinated,” I said. “With a big smiley face on the cup, please.” I myself don’t know why I felt the need to add the last part.

“Okay,” said the barista. “I could do a cotton candy frappuccino. That’s pink. The unicorn one is more colorful.”

I shrugged a shoulder. “I leave it to you.”

“What’s the name?”

“Andy.”

“Her name?”

“Bronwyn.”

“Donna-Lynn?”

“Bronwyn.”

“Brooklyn?”

“Bronwyn.”

Finally, she nodded, and I paid for our drinks. I was pleased with our results. Mine was dark and beautiful, though I almost questioned my adults-only gateway-to-crack choice of beverage, by way of example. Bronwyn’s was bright purple-pink with swirls of blue and a fairy dusting of pink and blue sugar on top of the whipped cream. The barista had indulged my stupidity with a huge smiley face on the cup right next to the name, “Brooklyn.” I tossed a tip in the tip jar.

We meandered over to a table in the food court then, and I still had this eerie feeling that Mr. Superfan was looking our way. When was I going to let that go? “I suppose I should text Uncle Jack to tell him and Dec to meet us here,” I said. Just as I said that, I spotted Jack and Declan coming through the food court entrance, carrying bags from Best Buy. It was as if Jack and I were so close we could communicate by telepathy, either that or the smell of Cinnabon was like the call of sirens to Ulysses.

I waved them over, and they joined us at a table. Best Buy bags mingled with pastel bags from Forever 13 (or wherever it was) on a spare chair.

“Don’t look now,” I said, “but we met this guy in the food court earlier who’s a mega-fan of our Blaze comic series. He strikes me a bit creepy, but he’s sitting there in the corner. Blondish-brown hair, receding hairline, rectangular-framed glasses …”

“Don’t look now” had the same effect as saying, “Don’t think about zebras in bikinis.” Do you see what I mean? What image just popped into your head? Jack looked to the corner.

“I see him,” Jack said.

“Is he staring at us?”

“I’m staring at him,” said Jack. “Oh, now, he’s looking.”

“Look away,” I said.

Jack did. I thought that our guy might walk over to chat with Jack, now that he had joined us. It wouldn’t be too unreasonable considering our earlier business discussion, but I now had mixed and strange feelings about it.

I fished in my shirt pocket and pulled out the pen he’d given us earlier. “He gave us a pen,” I said. “Apparently, he runs a comic book store and suggested we could go there for a signing some time.”

“Not a bad idea,” said Jack. He looked hard at the pen, at the business name on the side, at first. Then, he began to twist and turn the pen in different angles and stare at it some more. He was so mesmerized you’d think it was one with spinning lighted fiber optics (one of our own products.) I was mostly accustomed to Jack’s quirks by now, the way he would study ordinary things from an engineer’s perspective, but this was seeming ridiculous. It seemed like a pretty run-of-the-mill pen to me.

“Is there something special about that pen?” I asked.

“Maybe not,” said Jack. “It just seemed … well, never mind …” He set it down on the table. “Going to his store for a signing might not be a bad idea, for our writer and artist.”

“Yeah,” I said. “I think he wants you … the big brains, the concept guy. The superfan’s as fruity as a pebble, if you ask me.”

“As fruity as a pebble?” Jack raised his eyebrows. “Pebbles aren’t generally fruity.”

“Some of them are, when they come in boxes labelled Fruity Pebbles.”

Photo by Haley Owens on Unsplash, This is not exactly Fruity Pebbles but was the best stock photo I could find. It has the right idea perhaps.

“The breakfast cereal isn’t made of literal pebbles,” said Jack.

“I’ve known that since I was five,” I said. I sighed. “Don’t be so literal when I am trying to be clever.” I paused. “Is he still there?”

Jack glanced back in the direction of the corner. “No, he’s gone now.”

To be continued …

Action Men with Duct Tape, Suspense Serial

Action Men with Duct Tape, Part 2

This is continued from Part 1.

Frappuccinos and the Comic Book Superfan

Bronwyn and I continued on our way, hopefully to the food court or just to food. “You really are harmless, Uncle Andy. Let’s face it. You’re too sweet and funny,” she said.

“Sweet and funny? That’s what I’ve become?” I said. “I’m not harmless. I’ve faced danger. I was speared by a tranquilizer dart. I was held at gunpoint. I was kidnapped … “

“By a woman.”

“By a scary, sword-wielding woman,” I corrected.*

“Yes, but you didn’t want to fight her, because you’re too much of a gentleman.”

I sighed. This was close to the truth. “Well, when it comes to men, to ‘bad guys,’ you don’t have to worry about my sense of chivalry.”

“You and Uncle Jack are obsessed with bad guys, and you’re not even cops.”

“Yes. Lt./Det. Kelly keeps reminding us of that fact.”

“So, you’re saying that if that guy over there were to kidnap me, you’d knock his block off.”

I turned to look at “that guy over there.” She was pointing at some dude who I imagined must be a club bouncer, with a strangely triangular upper body you’d expect to find on a comic book hero, broad shoulders that narrowed down to a small waist. “Yeah,” I said, “Or die trying … most likely the second.”

This guy looked like he could take me down easily … blindfolded … with his small toe.

“Look, kiddo,” I said. “Don’t even joke about getting kidnapped. If anything were to happen to you, your Uncle Jack and I wouldn’t rest until you were home safe.”

She linked her arm in mine. “Okay. Where should we go?”

“Somewhere where there’s food.” I said this partly because I’m a bottomless pit and partly because it seemed much more interesting than shopping for preteen girl clothes. “What do you say? A frappuccino and a Cinnabon or a frappuccino and a soft pretzel?”

“A frappuccino and a Cinnabon.”

Just a short while ago, I was thinking about a guy shaped like a comic book superhero. Here, just outside of Starbucks, sat a guy with what looked to be one of those unicorn drinks, deeply engrossed in a comic book, and the comic book looked oddly familiar. It was one of our own line, the Blaze series. Tomorrow, we would be releasing accompanying action figures with robotic features.

I linked arms with Bronwyn and slid over to his table. Bronwyn, equipped in her Heelys shoes, skated over. “Hey!” I said to the guy.

He looked up from the comic, and, for a second or two, his hands shook. He had trouble looking me in the eye, and I couldn’t decide if he had a classic case of Asperger’s or if he was just taken aback by a complete stranger grinning oddly at him.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you. I just couldn’t help noticing what you’re reading. I’m from Out of the Box Toys. The Blaze comics are in our line. I’m just pleased to see we have a fan.”

He was looking at me now, from small blue eyes sunk deep in his face, in a way that hardly seemed more comforting. I looked him over. He had a long oval pasty white face, blue rectangular-framed glasses and dull blondish-brown hair with a receding hairline. He was also sporting more Blaze paraphernalia than seemed healthy for a grown man: a Blaze T-shirt that was just visible beneath his winter coat, a Blaze messenger bag and canvas sneakers that seemed to be hand-painted with the Blaze emblem.

a photo collage showing an image of a bald, bearded man with sunglasses and an open comic book with a cup of coffee

“More than a fan – a superfan, I see,” I said. I expected a superfan to be more enthused by my presence, but he was looking at me as if he were deciding what to do with me. “I’m Andy Westin.” I realized this probably meant nothing to him. I shrugged a single shoulder. “I’m the marketing guy.” I looked to Bronwyn and suddenly pulled her to my side in what was half hug and half wrestling move. “And this is my niece. She’s actually Jack Donegal’s niece. He’s the real brains behind the series and the toys and the everything. He’s the brain. I’m more like … the right arm.”

His face changed at the mention of Jack’s name, with recognition, I supposed, but I found it hard to read. “I own a comic book store in Ramsey. Maybe, you and Jack would like to come for a promotional event, a signing.” He pulled a pen from a messenger bag and handed it to me. I looked at it, reading, “Bam! Pow! Comics” on the side along with the address.

“Thanks,” I said, pocketing the pen.

“Bronwyn,” I said. “Let’s get a selfie with the superfan.” We both pulled out our phones and then, sandwiching the superfan like the cream in an Oreo, we clicked away. I looked through the results. I was grinning ridiculously. The superfan was looking stiff and somewhat unsociable. Bronwyn was looking cute and yet slightly awkward.

I suddenly slapped my forehead in an “I should have had a V8” moment. “We were taking selfies with our phones. We should have taken one with your phone,” I told the fan.

I was almost surprised when he pulled his phone out. I was beginning to think he thought we were a couple of desperate celebrity wannabes. He stretched his camera arm out, and, with the other, flipped a hair into place. He clicked, and, briefly, I saw the result. His face was different in this one. The stiffness was gone, yet he didn’t smile. Instead, he looked like an actor playing the part of the noble hero.

I tried one more approach. “We’re going to be at the New York Toy Fair tomorrow, unleashing something new. You should come or you should at least stay tuned.”

The statue that was the superfan spoke for the first time. “Yes, I n …” His voice was soft and squeaky. “Yes, thank you.” He nodded and smiled a weird smile that only moved the lower half of his face.

“Well,” I said, clearing my throat. “I’ll leave you to your excellent reading choice and your unicorn drink. I may get one for the niece.”

“Oh, it’s a Pokemon Go frappuccino.”

Pokemon Go frappuccino,
Source: Starbucks.com

“Ah.”

I was almost glad to get away from him, and I linked my arm with Bronwyn’s once more.

To be continued …

*It’s hard to find images that suit the characters. The “girl with sword” is not too similar to how I imagine Zarelda, and she is certainly never described as wearing a sailor outfit. Still, it communicates something of the spirit of it.

Action Men with Duct Tape, Suspense Serial

Action Men with Duct Tape, Mystery Serial, 1

mystery serial title header showing two silhouettes of men and duct tape

This is a Jack Donegal Mystery Serial, in the same series with Action Men with Silly Putty and Action Men and the Great Zarelda.

It’s a mystery serial as opposed to a mystery cereal. (A mystery cereal sounds like something with fiber in the name trying to disguise itself, although there was a limited edition Volcano Mystery Crunch … with Pop Rocks.)

This post features a couple of different Amazon affiliate links, so, if you are inspired by the fashion of the fictional Bronwyn, click away.

Action Men with Duct Tape, Mystery Serial, Part 1

“So, what do you think, Uncle Andy?” Bronwyn Byrne, my “niece” only by my close brotherly association with her actual Uncle Jack, stepped out of the dressing room, held her arms out and twirled around.

I sighed, expressing relief. “Ah. It’s fine.” I’d seen plenty of “Nos” on this shopping trip – the skintight leggings, the too-short skirts, some darkly themed band T-shirts of questionable taste. The outfit she was wearing with the pink shirt bedecked with cupcakes and sprinkles was something to which I could say. “Yes.” This was how little girls should look, all pink with cotton candy and unicorns and glitter.

“It’s fine? Just fine?” She drooped her arms down to her sides.

Somehow, the girl had translated “fine” as “barely passable.” “Yeah … right. I mean it’s … cute.” “It’s cute?” She groaned. “In other words, I look like I’m seven.”

“Nah. Nah. You look your age. You look like a cute …” I was not good at this. I’ve never been a dad, and here I was acting in the role of one. I was out of my element, standing there with my arms loaded with pastel-colored shopping bags, not to mention Bronwyn’s little purse, covered in emojis, dangling from my elbow … not exactly the manliest of accessories.

“Where’s Uncle Jack?”

That was a very good question. Why couldn’t Jack be here to handle these delicate girly issues with his own niece? “He got an important phone call on his cell about the event tomorrow, so he went to look for a quiet place to talk. When he’s done there, he’ll probably check on your brother at the Best Buy.”

I turned myself around, Bronwyn’s little purse swinging like a flag in tribute to my manliness.

I spotted a boy, around 12, skulking in a corner behind a clothes rack with his Nintendo DS, probably the unfortunate brother of a shopper in this girly store.

“Hey kid,” I said. “Come here.” He looked up and lifted an eyebrow. “I need a man’s opinion.” This seemed to get his attention. I hoped Bronwyn would appreciate the opinion of a boy her age. She was already starting to notice members of the opposite sex.

mystery serial graphic showing girl shopping for clothes and a mall cop

When the kid approached, I put my hands on his shoulders and pointed him in Bronwyn’s direction. “See there? That’s my niece. Her outfit shows good taste, right? It’s cool, hip, da bomb … Is da bomb still a phrase?”

“Uh … That would be a no,” said the kid. I noticed he refrained from rolling his eyes at me … unlike Bronwyn.

“Well,” I said. “The outfit. She needs some affirmation. She looks good, right?”

The kid was now giving me a nervous side eye. “Uh … yes?” The boy either had a young person’s habit of ending every phrase as a question or he was terrified of disagreeing with me or maybe afraid of agreeing with me a little too much.

He shrugged a single shoulder. “Sure. Whatevs. It’s cool … for her.” He said this as if he wanted me to be sure he wouldn’t wear it himself.

A little while later, I met Bronwyn in her regular clothes, the trial outfit draped over her arm. She spoke to me through her teeth. “Can you get any more embarrassing?”

“Uh … do you really want to know the answer to that question?”

“Probably not.” Her comment was accompanied by another eye roll.

“So, you’re not taking it?” I asked, pointing to the pile on her arm.

“No, I’m taking it,” she said.

Moments later, we were hitting the halls of the mall, and I was relieved of half of the baggage. Walking along the halls and the crowd, a thought came to me.

Maybe the thought came to me out of boredom from shopping at Girly Outfitters and Forever 13 or maybe my blood sugar was dropping and addled my brain.

My nose was picking up aromas of Cinnabon and freshly baked cookies, but, up to this moment, I had refrained from indulging. I decided this was a good time to hone her self defense skills.

I steered Bronwyn away from the main mall traffic. “Hey,” I said. “Check out the mannequins.” I directed her towards a side entryway, sandwiched between Old Navy and another tween girl’s paradise. The mannequins in the window display looked like they belonged on a teen pop star’s stage and were set up like a step by step dance tutorial.

I was beginning to think like Jack, imagining photos from the line-up, left to right, put together into an action flipbook. Bronwyn stood mesmerized. It didn’t hurt that the outfits were loud and crazy like a mashup between a Harajuku kawaii frillfest and Willy Wonka’s chocolate factory. If the cutesie didn’t make you sick, the edible suggestions of ice cream cone earrings with gumball-spattered skirts might. Then came the sneak attack.

Image by Pixabay
So, not exactly like a dance tutorial nor too wild and crazy here … but you get the idea. 🙂

I slinked up behind her and seized her around the middle, pinning her arms. “Now, suppose I’m a bad guy,” I said, “what do you do now?” We’d gone through this exercise a few times back at our apartment. This was the first time I’d attempted it in public.

Trouble with the Mall Cop

Looking to my left and spying a mall cop giving me the stare down, I surmised it was probably my last time doing this in public. Mr. Mall Cop Guy was glaring at me as if I were Ted Bundy.

“I’m her uncle,” I said, loosening my grip on Bronwyn’s waist. Biologically speaking, this wasn’t the strict truth, but, emotionally speaking, it was. “I was impersonating a bad guy and – apparently – doing too good a job of it.” Mr. Mall Cop Guy looked from me to Bronwyn and back again, perhaps looking for a sign that she was okay or that I was telling the truth. I pointed to him. “You, Sir, are doing an excellent job of protecting young girls from creeps like me … well, no, not literally creeps like me … creeps like the bad guy I was impersonating. I, for one, salute you.”

I put out my arm for a fist bump, and he took a couple of steps back. “Aw, c’mon. I didn’t swing at you. If I wanted to swing at you, I’d do a better job than that.” This was my day to stick my foot in my mouth over and over again.

I was going to have to head over to Starbucks for one of those frappuccino things to wash out the taste of foot.

“Not that I’m in the habit of taking a swing at fine upstanding security personnel.”

Bronwyn reached over and gave me a squeeze around the middle. “Uncle Andy is completely harmless,” she told Mr. Mall Cop Guy. “I am not completely harmless …”

Just like Bronwyn had understood “cute” as babyish, I understood “harmless” as milquetoast.

Then, I looked at Mr. Mall Cop Guy and thought I’d better change my phraseology. “Except to kids. I’m harmless to kids.” I gave Bronwyn a firm pat between the shoulder blades and rubbed my knuckles into her scalp.

Mr. Mall Cop Guy shrugged and shook his head in a way that made me think he was still assured that I was a weirdo but just of the “harmless” variety.

To Be Continued …

Did you enjoy this first mystery serial episode? Did you enjoy the character of Andy Westin? Let me know in the comments.

You can read more adventures with Andy and his buddy Jack Donegal in Jack Donegal Mysteries books. You can also download Part 1 of the prequel to the series, Action Men with Fuzzy Dice, when you subscribe to this site.

Stay tuned for more mystery serial adventures.