Blonde Joke Chapter Four by Jeffrey M. Mahr   What is a blonde with brunette died hair? Artificial Intelligence.

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“Hey girls.” The airlock was open and this time it was Dick Baldwin’s voice, slightly tinny over the speaker. “Wakey, wakey. You’ve got breakfast and clothes in the airlock.”

“Are you ready?” Katrina whispered to Tommi. “Are you sure you can do this?”

“We’ve talked this to death. There doesn’t seem to be another way and as a businessman I always take the best deal I can get.” Tommi sighed and continued, also in a whisper, “Let’s do it.” She jumped out of the bed they had been sharing and then turned back to Katrina.

“Ooh, clothes. Will you help me Trina, help me get dressed real pretty?” Tommi gave Katrina a peck on the cheek and scampered over to the airlock.

“Ooh, yeah, and makeup too. Now we can look human again.” Katrina was right behind her digging through the pile on the floor of the airlock. They giggled and teasing each other as they dragged the huge pile of clothes into the center of the room and nibbled at the breakfast in snatches as they tried on item after item of clothing. Tommi needed some help with some of the garments and especially with the names of some of the garments, but quickly fell into the swing of things as they took turns modeling outfits and practicing makeup on each other, all the time commenting on each change. For some reason they seemed to concentrate on the raciest clothes and undergarments in the pile.

Eventually, Tommi glanced up, tapped Katrina on the shoulder and pointed. Dick Baldwin was at the window beside the entry lock staring at the sexily attired women bouncing about modeling clothes. Miniskirts and tube tops did wonders for their already beautiful appearance.

“You know Trina, it seems such a shame.”

“What, the fact that we haven’t redone your hair yet?”

“No silly, that we are all dressed up with nowhere to go.”

“I know what you mean. I feel like partying. I’d like to go dancing really close to some man and rub up against him and let him hold me really tight.” Katrina’s hands were on her breasts gently caressing them as she spoke.

“Ooh yeah, that sounds really good.” Tommi was now rubbing her breasts also, “You know that’s what I really want too?”

“What?”

“A man. I want a man to hold me and touch me and fuck me real good.” Turning towards the window Tommi pretended to see Dick for the first time and pointed. “Ooh look, that’s what I want. I want a man like him.” She smiled brightly and waved. Turning toward the window Katrina also smiled what she hoped was seductively.

“Ooh, it’s Dick Baldwin.” Katrina sashayed over to the window with Tommi right behind her. “Hi, Dicky,” Tommi giggled as if Katrina has said something amazingly funny, “Let’s party?”

“Yeah, Dicky-boy. We’re all dressed up and ready for fun, but we don’t seem to have anyone to have fun with.” Tommi pouted prettily while Katrina rubbed up against the window. It was clear that something was happening because Dick’s forehead was damp and he kept readjusting how he was standing as if in some sort of discomfort.

“Can Dicky come in and play with us?” Tommi began kissing the window.

“Yeah, Dicky. We want you to come in here and play with us. Please come in and play with us.”

Dick held up a finger indicating that they should wait a moment, then grabbed the microphone and flicked it on.

“Ladies, you look hot, really hot. I’d love to party with you, but I’m afraid I can’t.”

“Oh please, Dicky. We really want to party. We need a real man; a man like you, sooo bad.”

“Yeah, Dicky-boy. We’d really like to have all of you but if you can’t come in could you please send in that thing between your legs. Tommi is great, but it’s not as much fun without a ‘Dick’ around.” They both giggled at Katrina’s pun and Tommi playfully tweaked Katrina on the breast.

She yipped and giggled as she tweaked Tommi back.

“Ladies. You have no idea how much I’d love to join you. But if I do...”

“Ooh, please, please, please, please, please.” They were both jumping up and down in excitement. The rise and fall of their breasts was not lost on Dick, who reached down to adjust the uncomfortable bulge in his crotch yet again.

“I don’t think he’s going to join us, Tommi.” Katrina pouted in disappointment.

“Well, it won’t be as much fun, but I guess we’ll have to party without him.” Tommi was pouting too.

“If you won’t join us would you at least give us some music to party with?” Katrina batted her eyes pleadingly.

“Sure, ladies. I’ve got a radio right here.” Dick turned on a portable radio and tuned to a station he liked.

“Oh, but it sounds so tinny, can’t you please bring it in here?”

“I guess so...sure ladies. I can’t see how that would hurt anyone. I’ll bring it right in.” He left and the sound of the outer lock opening could be heard. Tommi crossed her fingers and nodded to Katrina. They both moved next to the inner door and continued to giggle and jiggle. When Dick entered the airlock, they began squealing and jumping up and down again. Tommi hugged Katrina and kissed her. Without taking his eyes off the women, Dick slowly reached down to put the radio on the floor of the airlock.

“Oh, Dicky, please come in and play with us.” Katrina licked her lips and gave him a look of pure lust while Tommi began to gently rub her breasts and make kissing motions as she stared at Dick.

“Well...if you insist ladies, but just for a few moments.” Both women cheered and bounced up and down impatiently as he reached back and closed the outer door. The squeals grew even louder when he opened the inner door and they literally dragged him into the biohazard room and plugged in the radio.

Dancing around Dick, they led him into the center of the room. Katrina danced in front of him, hands stroking his chest and gently unbuttoning his shirt, while Tommi danced behind him rubbing her body against his. Too impatient to wait, when the shirt was halfway unbuttoned Katrina began slowly pulling it over Dick’s head. Tommi immediately joined in pulling it further over Dick’s head from her position behind him. Katrina moved to Dick’s pants. Kneeling before him while Tommi reached around to rub his nipples, Katrina quickly unbuckled his belt and pulled his pants down to his knees. Glancing back at Tommi she suddenly called out, “Now!”

Katrina ducked her head down so that she was on her hands and knees beside the man and Tommi gave Dick a tremendous shove from behind. Unable to properly maintain his balance, Dick tripped over his pants and fell forward over Katrina. Hands hobbled by the shirt, he was unable to protect himself as he fell. There was a satisfying thud as his head hit the floor. He rolled to a stop and didn’t move. Katrina checked for a pulse. It was strong and regular, which meant Dick was only unconscious, not seriously hurt. The two women glanced at each other with evident satisfaction.

“Let’s get the hell out of here,” Tommi shouted as she grabbed some scarves and belts and quickly hogtied the unconscious man.

“Sounds good to me,” Katrina agreed. They charged the airlock, closed the interior door and tried to recycle out the exterior door. It did not open.

“Damn, the bastard locked the door. We’ll need to find out what the key code is.” The two women filed back into the biohazard room. Katrina rolled him over onto his back while Tommi got a large glass of water. They both moved chairs beside him, one on either side, and then sat down. Then, Tommi splashed the water on his face.

Groaning and sputtering Dick came awake. The groans turned to curses as he realized he was tied up. “What the hell is this? I don’t party like this, now get these damned restraints off me.”

“Isn’t it cute, Tommi? He still thinks we’re playing with him.” Turning to Dick, she continued. “The straps stay. You’re about to tell us the door combination.”

“You bitches! I’ll kill you,” Dick shouted and began to struggle violently. The women waited patiently until he had tired himself out. Katrina routinely checked the restraints to make sure he didn’t get loose, while Tommi carefully cut the cord off the radio and stripped the insulation off the tips of the wires. Plugging the cord back in, she scraped the wires together and smiled at the bright flash of sparks.

“Dick, I know you don’t want to tell us anything, but you’re tied up very tightly and I’m about to ask you some questions. If you don’t answer, I’m going to start by shocking you on the arm. If that doesn’t work, I’ll move to your stomach. If that doesn’t work, I’ll move to your cheek and if that doesn’t work I’ll move to your testicles. If you haven’t answered by then I’ll let Katrina here have fun, she has some ideas involving spike heels I don’t think you’ll like at all.” Sparking the wires together again so Dick saw them flash, Tommi knelt beside Dick before turning back to Katrina for a moment.

“Who said television was a vast wasteland. Look at the wonderful ideas for torture it’s provided for us. You may want to turn away, Katrina.” Turning back to Dick, she again made the wires arc and watched as the man’s eyes grew wide with fear.

“What’s the combination?”

“Go to hell.”

The wires touched his arm.

“Ouch. Stop that. It hurts.”

“Certainly, Dick, just answer the question. What’s the combination?”

“If I tell you you’ll get away.”

“That’s correct, Dick, but not the right answer.” The wires sparked against his stomach and he screamed.

“We should have gone directly to the high heels, Katrina, he’s going to be difficult.”

“I’m afraid you’re right, but that would have been so permanent. At least this will heal.”

Turning back to Dick, she continued. “Next is the cheek and after that the testes. What’s the combination?”

“No, don’t. I’ll tell you. I’ll tell you. It’s 36-22-36, 36-22-36. That’s the combination. Don’t shock me again, please.”

“That’s the combination?” Katrina asked angrily. “That’s really the combination?”

“Yes! Yes, it is. I swear.”

“Geez, maybe all men really are pigs,” Katrina grumped as she glared at Tommi who assiduously ignored her.

“Sure, Dick. You did well,” Tommi said soothingly as she turned to Katrina. “Let’s get out of here. You check the combination. I have one more question for Dicky here.”

“Tommi, we really need to get out of here, make it fast,” Katrina noted as she moved quickly toward the door.

“Sure. Just one more question,” Tommi agreed and turned back to Dick. “Who’s the bastard who’s orchestrating this?”

“Just Harry and me.”

“It seems I’m going to need to use the wires again. We may as well go directly to the testicles. As Katrina noted, we don’t have a lot of time and this will be very painful. It’s a good thing she’s not watching, isn’t it, Dicky?”

“Wait! Wait! Please. It was your father. He set this up. Your father! Please don’t shock me. Please.”

“Come on, Tommi, it works. The code works. We need to go. Now!” Katrina called out from the door lock. She had dropped the wires when Dick had answered and now she moved, but slowly, as if in a daze.

“Son of a bitch. It really was him. Shit! His own son. That bastard,” Tommi kept muttering over and over as Katrina dragged her out of the biohazard chamber.

Now what?” Tommi asked, seemingly snapping out of her shocked state as Katrina sealed the exterior door so Dick would not be able to escape and sound the alarm before they were free and clear.

“Well, I need to get into my lab. I’ve got papers, diskettes and samples that I’ll need to get back to my old self. I’ve also got a change of clothes I always keep in case of a lab spill. I’m sorry, but I only have one change of clothes, but you might want to check the women’s locker room.”

Tommi looked down at the clothes she was wearing with an expression of disgust. “Yeech, I hadn’t really thought that far ahead. If I can’t find something less revealing than this micro miniskirt and tube top I’m going to have to go out in public like this.” He shuddered.

“Hey, those clothes you’re criticizing are what I grew up wearing.” Relenting, Katrina continued, “But I guess I do understand. Wearing women’s clothes is a bit new to you, isn’t it?” she sighed. “Okay, follow me, let’s see what we can do.”

Heading to her lab, Dr. Isseksen quickly checked her locker. Surprisingly, her clothes and purse were still there. Katrina kept the purse and generously gave Tommi the pair of khaki pants and matching flowered blouse. Katrina quickly rummaged through the lab while Tommi changed, still moving in slow motion. They both finished about the same time and then Katrina quickly put on the discarded clothes.

“Do you think the emergency door is still sealed?” Katrina asked.

“After three plus months, I hope not.”

“Good. Let’s go.” Pulling Tommi along, she grabbed her purse, yanked the emergency door open and ran to her car. Looking back, she saw that Tommi wasn’t really following. Instead, she stood by the door, as if unsure whether it was safe to step beyond its protection. With a curse, Katrina ran back and dragged the other woman to the car.

“Get in!”

Tommi got in without even thinking. The shock of discovering that her father, the man who had ordered her to harass Dr. Isseksen in the first place, was responsible for her incarceration had disoriented her. If the elder Brodsky was writing off his own son, what else would he do? If he could do that, he couldn’t be trusted.

For that matter, Tommi thought, after what I’ve done to Dr. Isseksen, why isn’t she seeking revenge on me. If someone had tried to destroy me I wouldn’t have trusted him or her or helped him or her if they had a problem, I’d consider it just retribution. So, why is she helping me now? Worse, am I really so stupid now that I’m trusting, and following, this woman who I had, until recently, been trying to destroy?

The two drove in silence, Katrina concentrating on the road, Tommi concentrating on her own thoughts. Katrina glanced over from her driving and saw tears on Tommi’s cheeks. She was shivering and holding herself in a tight little ball.

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End Chapter 4 of 23

Blonde Joke Chapter Five by Jeffrey M. Mahr   How many blondes does it take to make chocolate chip cookies? Three. One to mix the dough and two to sort the M&Ms to remove the “W”s, “E”s and “3”s.

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“I’m taking us to my younger sister, Maggie. Well, her real name is Magda, Magda Matra Isseksen, but she hates that so we always call her Maggie or M&M.” Glancing at the clock on the dashboard, she realized it was late afternoon.

“Drat, it’s late. We’re going to have to go to the club she works at.” Glancing over, Tommi was still staring forward, hugging her knees as if they might fall off if she let go.

“The club is on Fourteenth and Hamilton,” Katrina rambled nervously. Tommi was worrying her with her strange behavior. “It’s called ‘The Cravat.’ I got her the job there. It’s how I made my living expenses while I was in college. It’s a…ah…gentleman’s club, but there should be no one there but the staff now so we should be safe from annoying patrons. I was Kitty Kat Knutson. That was my stage name. It was...”

A glance at her passenger showed that Tommi was still silently staring ahead, but now she was crying, with huge tears rolling down her face. The tears grew into sobs as she shivered uncontrollably.

Quickly pulling over to the side of the road Katrina reached over to comfort her, but Tommi jerked away with a look of sheer panic on her face as she slowly slide off the seat to cower beneath the dashboard. The tears had stopped, but her eyes were wide, glazed and staring unfocused into the car window beside Katrina. There was even a small drop of drool running down her cheek. Katrina reached out again. This time Tommi shuddered again, but didn’t move when Katrina touched her cheek, however, that was only because she had nowhere else to go.

“Damn,” Katrina muttered as she turned the heat up to high and started driving again, “she’s gone into shock.” The remaining four miles of the drive to the club was white-knuckle time. Katrina drove as quickly as she dared, cutting off several other cars and running several lights where it was questionable whether the color was really yellow in her haste to get to the Cravat.

Pulling up to the club, she stopped in the no parking zone directly in front and ran inside, leaving the still unresponsive Tommi curled up under the dashboard.

The plush, conservative decor inside hadn’t changed. Where most strip joints went in for the cheap plastic, vinyl and chrome look, the Cravat was very much the exception with richly oiled oak and mahogany wainscoting, plush leather chairs, art deco style lighting, and huge elaborately framed portraits, albeit of scantily clad women in sexually provocative situations. Only the subject matter of the portraits gave away the nature of the establishment; after all, it was a “private” club. Katrina ignored all this as she trotted around to the rear of the building, kicked some trash out of the way of the stage door and pounded on the service entrance. When the door creaked opened, she pushed past the bouncer that had been assigned door duty calling out, “I need to see M&M. Now! It’s important.” Before he could decide to stop the beautiful woman, she was already by the bouncer.

Maggie was on the stage practicing along with a baker’s dozen of other beautiful women, all wearing feathers and little else. She was a younger twin of Katrina, younger by just four years. Katrina impatiently waited for the dance number to stop and then called out to her.

“Maggie! It’s Katrina. I need to talk to you.”

“Katrina?” Maggie squinted against the stage lighting to make out a grey shape beyond the stage. “What are you doing here?” They met at the edge of the stage.

“I’m in trouble, Maggie. I need to use your place to hide. There are two of us, not just me.”
“And everyone thought I’d be the wild one,” Maggie laughed. “Come on around to the dressing room and I’ll give you the keys to my apartment. When I see them, I’ll tell Barbie and Karen you’re visiting for a while.” Maggie headed off behind the curtain and Katrina walked around to the door beside the stage with the words “employees only” on it. Back stage was the usual controlled chaos with people and props everywhere but she quickly wended her way back to the dressing room where Maggie was waiting for her, keys in hand.

“So who’s this guy that has you head over heels?” Maggie laughed as she hugged her sister.

“You wouldn’t believe,” Katrina said with a brittle laugh. “When you get home I’ll give you the whole story.” Turning, she struggled through the maze of tables and chairs back towards the stage door.

Maggie continued to laugh and called after her. “Make it a juicy one, Kitty Kat.”

Keys in hand, Katrina made it back out into the alley and to the car without anything more than a dirty look from the bouncer. As luck would have it, there wasn’t even a ticket on the illegally parked car, but then again, the cops wouldn’t be around until later in the evening when they’d be able to multiple-ticket some of the big spenders from the suburbs coming into town for a night at this club or one of the other entertainment establishments in the area.

Tommi hadn’t moved. She was still huddled between the seat and the dashboard, but she was clearly shivering again so Katrina knew she was at least alive. Turning up the car’s heat, she quickly drove the several blocks to the loft apartment Maggie and her roommates shared.

Pulling into another illegal parking space, this time in front of a fire hydrant, Katrina saw that Tommi still hadn’t rejoined the living. Praying that the lift was in working order, she ran around to the passenger door, opened it and tried to yank the near catatonic Tommi out of the car. It wasn’t easy, but once Katrina had her moving, Tommi came willingly albeit leaning heavily against her. The two staggered to the lift. Fearing she’d never get Tommi up again if she curled up into a ball again, Katrina cursed as she propped Tommi against the wall while stretching to close the elevator door.

“Hello. Anybody home?” Silence greeted the two women as the elevator stopped at the loft’s third floor entrance. With a brief curse at the unsurprising lack of help–after all Maggie had said she’d tell her room mates so they were probably at the club or on their way there from classes–she dragged Tommi off to Maggie’s bed and let her collapse onto the bed. With another muttered curse, Katrina covered the shivering form with several blankets and headed out to find a legal parking space for her car.

The shrieks of laughter almost drowned out the creaking of the ancient elevator. Seconds later Maggie and two other young women fell giggling through the apartment door. Seeing Katrina, Maggie almost bowled her over as she ran over to her and hugged her.

“Barbie. Karen. Come here and meet my older sister, Katrina. Dr. Katrina Isseksen, or Kitty Kat as I like to call her, works at GTI. She’s the one responsible for developing that new wonder drug I’ve been telling you about, ViTaGeSeM.”

Over the greetings of others, Maggie started looked around. “So where’s this guy you’ve run off with?”

“In your bedroom, but before you go in we really need to talk.” Maggie’s smile faded with each word, Katrina’s voice sounded so ominously serious. Katrina gently pulled her over to the couch to sit. Barbie and Karen started to excuse themselves but Katrina waved them down onto the couch next to her. “Please. You should all know what’s happening.”

“Well, she’s not catatonic or her hand would stay in the air where I put it, but she is in bad shape. Shock at the least, and I won’t know what else until she comes around. You did well by bundling her up under the covers and leaving her alone.” Escorting Katrina back to the living room Maggie continued, “Now there are a couple of options, but I recommend waiting for her to come around on her own.”

“Kat, it’s been two days and she hasn’t come around. We need to get her medical help or she could die.”

“We can’t. I told you what happened at GTI. If anyone finds out where we are, we could be at risk again. You, Barbie and Karen could all be at risk. Isn’t there something else we can do?” Katrina was pleading now. “Anything?”

“Well. Maybe.” Maggie paused a moment to collect her thoughts. “I have an idea, but it’s pretty weird. First you need to answer a couple of questions.”

“Anything.”

“First, you told me what she did to you. Why do you care about her?”

Katrina was silent for several minutes while Maggie patiently waited for her to respond. “I won’t say I like her. She’s been a cruel and evil person. She tried to destroy me, at least professionally, and for nothing more than money,” the word was spit out like a curse, “but I guess I got my revenge when she was injected with my DNA. If nothing else, she’s a human being and even if she doesn’t know it she’s genetically my twin sister. I won’t let her, or any other human being, die because of my inaction. Besides, she was trapped with me and helped me escape.”

Another long pause, “To add another besides, I did kind of get even with her already. Remember what I told you that I told Tommi about the modified DNA we received. I lied to her. I did have time to analyze the samples and I knew what he was planning. I changed them so we both got versions of my DNA. I figured that was safer than guessing which injector had the inhibitor and having it be a crap shoot as to whether anything happened to her. She’s not really becoming the air-headed, hormonally driven, sex object she thinks she’s becoming.

“Okay, next question. Do you want to get even?”

“The temptation is strong; I admit it, but no. I just want what’s rightfully mine. I developed ViTaGeSeM. I want the royalties due me and the right to insure that it’s used for the benefit of humanity, not just to line the pockets of some company.”

“You understand you’re probably going to have to go public to fight for that, don’t you Kat?”

“Yes, but first I need to ‘lay low,’ as they called it on those westerns you loved to watch as a kid, until I can figure out how to do it safely. I’ll send a letter to my attorneys, but without money they’re not likely to push very hard, so this is an interim solution at best.”

“Okay, last question. Unlike me, you’ve always been embarrassed about the time you spent at the Cravat. Do you think anyone knows about it?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Good. Then I think I have an answer big sis. You stay here. The loft’s under Barbie’s name, not mine. You work at the Cravat again to get enough money to fight back. We all help you come up with a way to get even with GTI.” Maggie stopped Katrina from objecting with a gentle touch of her finger on Kat’s lips. “I know, you say you don’t want to ‘get even,’ but I know you better. You’re going to stew and stew and make life miserable for everyone around you until you feel you’ve evened the score. Remember when I accidentally broke that porcelain doll mom gave you for you’re tenth birthday?”

“That was no accident. You dropped it out the attic window when I wouldn’t let you play with my friends.”

“I told you a million times that was an accident. I never intended to drop it only hold it ransom...and besides, that’s not the point. The point is, you made my life a living hell for the next five months until I saved enough and got you a new one. The same thing’s going to happen here; I just know it. So, let’s admit it and get it over with so we can move on.”

“Spoken like a true psychologist,” Katrina laughed. “Okay I admit it, little M&M. You’re right. I’m a bitch. So do you have any ideas what we should do about GTI, Franklin Brodsky and his ex-son Tommi?”

“I’m glad you asked m’dear,” Maggie said, doing a really poor W. C. Fields imitation before switching to Groucho Marx, waving an imaginary cigar and twitching her eyebrows, “Say the magic woid and win a prize.”

Katrina hugged her sister as they laughed. “You win. You’re right. ‘The magic woid.’ There. I’ve said it. Now what’s your idea?”

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Blonde Joke Chapter Six by Jeffrey M. Mahr   How many blonde jokes are there? None. They’re all true.

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“Tommi, don’t worry. It will all come back to you.” Maggie was sitting on Tommi’s bed stroking her hair affectionately. With the help of deep sleep somnipathy, Tommi had just woken after three days. Her comatose state had been the result of shock and acute situational depression. To say her equilibrium was shaky would be like saying the Grand Canyon was a small gully.

“I know you keep saying that, Maggie, but nothing comes back to me. I don’t remember anything. I don’t remember being Tommi Isseksen. I don’t remember having a twin sister named Katrina. I don’t even remember wearing a bra.”

“Well, you’ve been in shock for the past three days. Amnesia is not an uncommon result of a major shock.”

“But I don’t know you. I don’t know this twin sister I’m supposed to have, and I have no idea what kind of shock I might have had.”

“That’s the amnesia, and I, for one, am NOT going to tell you. Not until you are ready to handle it without going back into shock again.” Maggie stopped stroking Tommi’s hair. “Now, you’re pretty weak. Do you think you can stand up with just my help or should I call in Kat to help?” Tommi tried to get up but her arms shook so much she couldn’t do it. “That answer’s that question.” Turning towards the door Maggie yelled, “Kat, get in here and help us out please.”
Moments later Katrina entered the room, her expression clearly worried. “Hi, Tommi. How are you feeling?”

“Who are you?”

Bewildered, Katrina looked to Maggie for an explanation. “She has amnesia. She doesn’t remember anything. Now don’t talk and do as I say and we’ll see if we can help her.”

With each sister taking an arm and providing a lot of support, they were able to help Tommi to the bathroom. The intent was to help her clean herself up. Unfortunately, the first thing Tommi saw was the wall mirror over the sink. The mirror reflected Tommi in the middle, on one side a second Tommi and on the other side yet another slightly younger version of Tommi. Tommi fainted.

“This isn’t going to work, Kat. She’ll never recover fast enough to be of any help to herself or us like this. In fact, I’m starting to worry about dehydration and possibly even true catatonia if we don’t get her to rejoin the human race soon. Let’s get her back to the bed. I’m going to have to use hypnosis to create a minimally functional persona she can live with until she can accept the truth.”

As they carried the now limp form back to the bed Maggie explained what she planned to do and why. Katrina wasn’t happy but had no other alternatives to propose, so she left to allow Maggie to do what she could without interference.

Maggie got a small, jeweled pendant from her jewelry box and some smelling salts from the medicine cabinet and returned to Tommi. A brief whiff of smelling salts brought a coughing and gasping Tommi awake.

“Wha...what happened?”

“You fainted. Look. I have to admit you’re not getting any better. We’ve talked about hypnosis many times in the past. While you’ve never said no, you’ve put it off hoping for a miracle. You’ve been waiting for that miracle for almost 18 months now and I don’t think you can put it off any more. Three days in a near catatonic state are too much to ignore. If you don’t let me try hypnosis we’re going to have to seriously consider hospitalization.” Hands on hips, Maggie stood looking down at a very perplexed Tommi. “Now for the last time, will you please let me try hypnosis?”

“I don’t remember declining its use before.” Tommi’s eyes were filling up. “In fact, I don’t remember any previous counseling sessions.”

“That’s it.” Maggie interrupted with a voice overflowing with concern. “You’re getting worse. I’m going to have to recommend hospitalization.”

“No. Please don’t. Let’s try the hypnosis. Please.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes! Yes! Please! Give it a try. I want to be better.”

“Whew.” Maggie dragged into the living room and plopped down onto the couch next to Katrina. “It’s done.”

“What’s done?” Barbie and Karen came in from the kitchen where they’d been finishing up the dinner dishes.

Katrina frowned. “I’m not sure about this.”

“Oh relax, sis. You know this was the best way to handle her given the situation and you know I’ll undo it as soon as she’s able to function.”

“Yes, but I don’t like it. It tramples ethics and makes me feel like I’m sinking to her level.”
”What level? What’s been done?” Would someone please tell us what’s going on?” Barbie nodded in support of Karen’s request.

Maggie cocked and ear at the sound of a shower starting. “Oh good, she’s started moving around again. I suggested that it would be a good idea for Tommi to clean herself up.” Turning back to the others she continued. “You all know what Tom Brodsky, his father Franklin Brodsky, and through them GTI did to Katrina?” She asked with a nod in Katrina’s direction.

Karen and Barbie nodded in affirmation.

“You also know that Tom Brodsky, or Tommi as we now call her, tried to make my sis here into the proverbial mindless bimbo, but instead got caught in his, or should I say her, own trap. What you don’t know is that Kat managed to switch what was in the syringes with which they were both injected. Tommi is a clone of Kat, brains and all. In effect Kat and Tommi are now twin genius sisters.”

“And the problem here is?” Karen was confused.

“The problem is that Tommi dear seems to have had what lay people call a nervous break down resulting in amnesia, probably due to the shock of finding out that after making her act in a totally ruthless and unethical manner Daddy Dearest was planning on discarding her’ maybe even killing her. Oh, and being a macho jock football player and thinking he was becoming what he thought to be his worst nightmare, a brainless bimbo, probably didn’t help either.”

“But you just said he was a smart as Katrina here.” Karen was confused. “And you’ve told us more times than I care to count how she’s a certifiable genius.”

“Maggie, how nice of you. You added an extra word,” Katrina laughed. “You used to just call me certifiable.”

Maggie ignored her sister’s barb. “I said that’s what she thought had happened to her. She may be a genius, but she thinks she’s becoming a near moron and she’s making a great effort to make it a self-fulfilling prophecy.”

“Anyway,” Maggie continued, “after three days of near catatonic depression Tommi is finally coming around, with a little help from yours truly. It was a close thing. When she saw herself in the mirror, she almost went back into her shell and closed it up behind her. I admit that what I did wasn’t exactly ethical.” Katrina coughed and Maggie stuck her tongue out at her sister and gave her a dirty look before continuing.

“I used hypnosis without giving her full disclosure. I gave her a past, some basic knowledge about being female and some general life goals. They’ll do until she’s able to remember and accept the truth. For now let’s just say that when she comes out please welcome Kat’s twin sister Tommi Sonje Isseksen.” As if it were planned that way, Tommi walked out into the living room with a towel wrapped about her.

“Hi gals, anyone mind if I borrow some makeup? I can’t seem to find mine.”

Katrina looked at the others. Karen and Barbie were noncommittal although their eyes grew wide while Maggie nudged Katrina imperceptibly to encourage her to go help Tommi.

“You have makeup, Tommi,” her twin explained. “It’s just that we share it so much we can never tell what belongs to whom. Just use whatever you want, uh, sis.”

Maggie made slight pushing motions when Katrina hesitated. “Matter of fact, given how poorly you’ve been feeling, why don’t I help you get dressed and put on your makeup.” Katrina headed off to assist Tommi.

Barbie looked at Karen quizzically and then turned to Maggie. “I guess this is better than being curled up in a ball in bed all the time.” Barbie hesitantly nodded in agreement. “Now what happens?”

“Hold that thought. Rather than repeat myself let’s wait for Kat to come back.

“Tommi will be out in a few moments.” Katrina came back into the living room and dropped down onto the couch. “I helped her with her makeup and laid out some clothes for her.”

“Okay girls,” Maggie once again took control of the conversation. “With Tommi back in motion again there will be some loose ends like identification.”

“I can take care of that.” Karen started to raise her hand and then self consciously placed it back in her lap. “I know some folks that can get me any identification we need. It’s illegal of course, and it will cost, but it should stand up to anything short of a PRR. Birth certificate and driver’s license O.K.?”

“Sure...but what do you mean PPR?” Barbie asked.

“That’s two Rs and one P. A PRR, not a PPR. It stands for a ‘physical records review,’ where someone actually checks the original paper files, like for an entry in the births and deaths log of a county to confirm the existence of a birth above and beyond the existence of a certificate. In this age of computers it’s almost never done, so I wouldn’t worry too much about it.”

Maggie cheered and Karen took a quick bow. “Thank you. Thank you. But wait, there’s more,” She offered, imitating the announcers on one of those half hour infomercials. “No civilized human being in this country lives without credit cards.”

Katrina groaned.

“Well said. You’re probably not going to like this next part. I strongly suggest you make your credit cards joint cards Kat. Then we can tell her she just lost her wallet...”

“Yeah.” Maggie jumped in. “We can tell her it’s part of the trauma that’s caused her amnesia.”

“...and when you get the replacement cards, present them to her in a new wallet as a present.”
“Okay. Another piece of the puzzle solved.” Maggie was beaming, but Katrina wasn’t quite as enthusiastic about sharing her credit cards.

“Now, with Tommi taken care of, the problem is very simple, how to force Franklin Brodsky and GTI to act in an ethical manner with respect to Kat here. Katrina’s idea of suing GTI and Franklin Brodsky into submission is a good one, but to go that route we’ll need lots of money for lawyers and even with adequate money it could take years.”

”Actually,” Karen chimed in, “money is the one thing that’s going to be needed in abundance no matter what Katrina wants to do.”

Katrina frowned but agreed. “That’s true. The attorneys I spoke to would not even consider taking on someone as big as Franklin Brodsky without getting their retainers up front and I’ve only got a couple of thousand dollars.”

“That should just barely last you long enough to get you into the office of any attorney good enough to take on Brodsky and win.”

Katrina sadly agreed. “I know; being a research scientist is a dream come true, but the pay stinks. I actually made more money...”

The sentence was never completed. Instead, Tommi made a grand entrance, posing with her knee bent and a hand on the doorframe. She wasn’t wearing the jeans and tee shirt Katrina had laid out for her, instead wearing a super short, yellow and blue cheerleader’s outfit with a deep V neck that Maggie had used in one of her numbers but had not yet returned to the club after cleaning it. Her makeup had been redone in a thicker style more appropriate to bright stage lighting. “Hey gals, did you hear the ‘blonde’s cheer’?” She went into a mock cheer, calling out…

“I’m a blonde,
“I’m a blonde,
“B, L O, uh, never mind,
“I’m a blonde,
“I’m a blonde.
“Yeah.”

She jumped up and down clapping her hands as she completed the cheer. The others stood there with their mouths agape.

“I’m sorry, did I do something wrong? This wasn’t what Kat laid out but it looked so right, I just had to try it. Then once I was in it, I just couldn’t resist that stupid cheer.” Tommi was waiting worriedly for a response. Kat gave Maggie a questioning glance and she responded with an almost imperceptible shake of the head.

“No. You just surprised us, Tommi. The outfit is a perfect fit and looks darling on you,” Barbie recovered and spoke first. “And as one of the non blonde minority here,” everyone looked at Karen, the only other non blonde in the room, who was smiling broadly, “I applaud the sentiment of your cheer.”

“Come. Grab a seat.” Karen waved her over and patted the couch beside her. “We were just talking about money–and you just gave me a really evil idea.”

---

 

End -- Chapter 6 of 23

Blonde Joke Chapter Seven by Jeffrey M. Mahr   Santa Claus, the Tooth Fairy, a dumb blonde, and a smart blonde are walking down the street when they spot a $10 bill. Who picks it up? The dumb blonde. There’s no such thing as Santa Claus, the Tooth Fairy, or a smart blonde.

---

 

“I enjoy being a girl. Step. Turn. Hold. Hold. Hold. Curtsey. Hold. Good, but next time remember to smile. You looked like a scared rabbit up there, Tommi. Now clear the stage for the next act.”

“Wow. That was hard work,” Tommi panted as she dabbed at the sweat on her forehead, “but I loved it.” The crowded dressing room was bustling with bodies in varying stages of undress as Tommi enthused to anyone who would listen. Katrina was one of them, but not willingly.

“I’m getting too old for this,” Katrina grumbled.

“Wait a minute. We’re the same age.”

“Yeah. Exactly,” Katrina noted and returned to her primping. “Come on. We need to get back home for the planning meeting.”

One of the girls, Debbie, reached over and interrupted. “Excuse me, but may I borrow some of your mascara? Mine just ran out.”

Katrina handed it to her and in that brief period Tommi interjected, “But I like it here. It’s so warm, so friendly, so giving.” She smiled and nodded at Debbie who was holding out the mascara, patiently waiting for Katrina to take it back. With a snarl Katrina grabbed it and slammed it down onto the tabletop. Tommi shrugged an apology to her but Debbie just huffed and turned her back on the two of them.

“Do we have to?” Tommi whined.

“Yes, ‘we have to.’ Now get moving. We still need to mingle,” Katrina reminded her twin who smiled in anticipation.

The way out through the club was like an obstacle course, one created by a misogynist and implemented with the single-minded intensity of an army training Sergeant. The management insisted that all performers mingle with the customers for one hour after each show. Mingling, as management clearly specified in each girl’s contract, involved drinks and talking to the customers as they sat or circulated through the hall. Well, management called it a hall but the employees called it “the pit,” or on a bad night, “the pit of hell.” Unlike most such establishments, customers were not officially allowed to touch the artists, as management called them, while they were in the hall and dating customers was frowned on. The reality was that the customer could do anything he, or she, wished as long as the artist was not damaged. This left quite a bit of room for the maneuvering that usually occurred. After all, these were the wealthy and powerful. They expected to get what they wanted and usually did.

“Hey, that was a great act, ladies.” Katrina was trying her best to keep a low profile and get the two of them out with a minimum of mayhem, but Tommi kept jumping from table to table acting like a cat in heat.

“I especially like the joke about the blonde and the bowling ball.” He reached up and brushed some of Tommi’s hair from his face also brushing Tommi’s right breast on the way up and laying his hand on her upper thigh when he put it down, which was not surprising since she was sitting on his lap. “How did it go? Oh, yes. “Chances are they’ll both end up in the gutter.” He howled with laughter and Tommi buried her face and breasts in his chest as she held on for dear life. “Is that where you’re headed you little minx?”

“No, but I’ve made a few touchdowns in my day.” Katrina jerked up to examine her self induced clone wondering why Tommi had said that and finding her twin looking just as confused. Her “lap mat” continued speaking, oblivious to the girls’ exchange.

“Ah so you like to score. Well, let me offer you this token of my appreciation for your show.” It was a crumpled bill. “And let me suggest another one each for your sister and you if the two of you were to join some friends and me for a private party we’re holding tomorrow night.

“Oh, thank you for the offer, but we have a commitment for tomorrow.” Katrina forced herself to smile politely as she answered, just happy to have gotten in an answer before Tommi could finish inflating her lungs. There was no question in Katrina’s mind that Tommi’s answer would have been an unequivocal “yes” from the look of disappointment she gave Katrina.

“Tut tut, my dear. I’m quite friendly with the management. I’m sure I can arrange something with them if you’d like.”

“I’m sure you could, honey, but the job’s not here. We’re both students and we’ve got a paper we need to write.” Katrina stood and started dragging Tommi to her feet only to feel herself being groped by a passerby.

“Please excuse us, but we do need to circulate. We’re glad you enjoyed the act.” Tommi quickly bent over and gave him a peck on the cheek before permitting Katrina to pull her off into the crowd. Glancing back Katrina saw another woman already on his lap.

“Where’s Tommi?” Maggie dropped onto the couch next to Katrina, slipping off her shoes and sighing tiredly as she wiggled her feet.

“In the bathroom. I gave her first shot at it.” Katrina put her head back and closed her eyes as she tried to relax. “God! Now I remember why I was so glad to end my career on the stage.”

“Yeah,” Maggie agreed and began rubbing her own aching feet. “Sometimes I feel the same way, but you’ve got to admit the money’s good.”

“Yeah, the money’s good. Tommi made a clean grand from just one ‘patron,’ but at what price? I’d get poked and prodded less if I were a lab rat. If we keep doing this much longer I’m going to have real problems saving dear Tommi from herself. Damn, but she seems to thrive on the attention.”

“And I think she likes the control, too.” Maggie chimed in. “I’ve seen what you mean. Doesn’t she have any inhibitions?”

“Apparently not, although that reminds me. She said something tonight that has me wondering if some of her memory is coming back.” Maggie stopped rubbing her feet. “She said something about football. Let me see if I can get it right. It was...it was in response to some pit slug’s comment about the gutter ball joke in the act. She said she’d ‘made a few touchdowns’ in her day and then looked confused, like she didn’t understand why she’d said it. What do you think, M&M?”

“Maybe, but she’s become a real flirt. That might have been all it was.”

“I guess so.” Katrina sighed and put her head back again.

“I’ll check it out after the meeting. For now, I’m not sure whether it would be better if she remembers or not.”

“Or if it even matters?” Tommi said as she walked in wrapped in towels as Katrina’s and Maggie’s eyes bulged.

“To answer your question, yes, I remember.” Tommi sat daintily in the chair opposite and noticed how she had sat with her legs tucked under. “Good job with the hypnosis.” Maggie distractedly nodded acknowledgment of the compliment. “If I don’t think about it I’m quite feminine.”

Looking back at the others Tommi continued. “Yes, I have my memory back. It’s been coming back in bits and pieces over the last week, but I wasn’t sure what was going on so I kept quiet. A good businessman, excuse me businesswoman, always holds her cards close to her breast, if that’s how it should be paraphrased.” She giggled and was once again the airhead, but when she stopped it was all business again.

“Well, I for one am glad.” Katrina smiled tentatively. “You did this to yourself, but I always felt we were taking advantage of you when you weren’t able to make decisions for yourself.”

“How much of our discussion did you overhear?” Maggie was worried.

”All of it. Don’t worry. I’m not going to have you brought up on charges for malpractice before you even finish your degree. Tommi’s laugh was not comforting. “Actually, I should probably thank you. It is obviously questionable whether I will ever be able to get my old body back.” Tommi thought for a moment before turning to Katrina. “You didn’t, perhaps think to have a sample of my DNA anywhere did you?”

“No. Sorry. If you’ll remember, I had asked for a company wide initiative to collect and maintain samples of every employee, but you never approved it.”

“True. A definite lack of foresight on my part.” The laughter still wasn’t very comforting. “Well, I guess a body is a body. Actually, in the admittedly short time in which I’ve been able to compare, I have the feeling that this one could be the superior one.”

“Excuse me.” Maggie tentatively raised her hand as if to ask a question.

“This is not a classroom. Spit it out.”

“I was just wondering what made you come to that conclusion. I mean, as a psychologist I recognize that you’re in a unique position to answer that question.” When Tommi didn’t answer she continued. “I mean, the only other sources of information on this subject are subjects of sexual realignment surgery and hermaphrodites. The first group is so fixated on the subject that their opinions automatically considered questionable and thus discounted without proper consideration by the mainstream clinician. The second group really doesn’t have a fair opportunity to assess the merits of each as the vast majority are surgically altered by their early teens, usually much earlier. Thus, they tend to experience only one gender, usually female. The few that are altered to become male are never able to develop the musculature to fairly compete and thus rarely experience sexuality as a male.”

Tommi was tapping her toe impatiently. “Are you done yet?”

“Uh...I guess so. Will you answer the question?”

Tommi smiled, just smiled. Maggie fidgeted as she waited. Finally, Katrina couldn’t take the silence any more. “For God's sake, answer her already.”

Tommi speculatively examined Katrina for several more moments. “Maybe. Not now, but maybe after the meeting,” she turned to Maggie, “if you ask me really politely little sister mine.” Seeing their confusion Tommi just smiled this time. “I’m going to get dressed. Where are the others, and when is this meeting, anyway?”

Katrina and Maggie just stared after as she sauntered off to the bedroom. “Ah...I ah, I better get cleaned up.” A subdued Katrina followed.

“Ladies. Ladies.” Tommi daintily tapped her wine glass against the coffee table. “This meeting of the A.B.D. ecdysiast’s self improvement and revenge against GTI club is now called to order. For those of us, like me, who were not altogether aware at the last meeting would someone please review the minutes of that meeting?”

The other’s eyes darted from one to the other, no one wanting to start. “I guess I can answer that.” Karen grudgingly began ticking off items with her fingers.

“First, we agreed to let Maggie hypnotize you to provide a knowledge base and set of mannerisms to make it easier for you to adjust. Second,” Karen blushed but continued, “we agreed to reevaluate what you should be told based upon your ability to comprehend. Third, we concluded that we should help Katrina get what she deserves from her invention.” Karen turned to Kat, “What did you call it again?”

“ViTaGeSeM,” Tommi answered first. “Please continue.”

“Fourth, we agreed that if the people at GTI were willing to risk kidnapping and death threats...”

“Implied,” Tommi interrupted again. “Implied death threats, for all the difference it makes. Knowing my father–ex-father–it was probably real,” she smiled bitterly, “although I can’t, for the life of me imagine Dick Baldwin or Harry Walton having the testicular fortitude to carry out the threat.” Katrina’s lip curled at the thought of either of them doing much of anything effectively.

“Uh hum.” Karen cleared her throat. “Shall I continue?”

She didn’t wait for an answer. “If the people at GTI were willing to risk kidnapping and ‘implied’ death threats, they were willing to play dirty to the point that no criminal action was likely to succeed and any attempt to use the courts was likely to bankrupt us well before any possible positive outcome.”

Tommi nodded and turned to Katrina. “I warned you that would not be a functional option a long time ago.”

“True...and it was never really considered, although we did agree to actively gather money for at least a token attempt in that venue.” Karen sat back and waited for Tommi to absorb everything that had been presented her. He responded before she had settled back into her chair.

“Is that it? Don’t you all have some kind of a plan?”

“Well, we do have a plan of sorts, just the idea, nothing fleshed out...”

“Yeah, yeah; and the plan?”

“We...we’re going to do a sting. You know. Like the movie with Paul Newman and Robert Redford?”

Blonde Joke Chapter Eight by Jeffrey M. Mahr   Why can’t blondes put in light bulbs? They keep breaking them with the hammers.

---

 

“A sting? Ooh, like the movie with Paul Newman and Robert Redford and with all that great honky-tonk music? Sounds like fun. Can I be Redford?”

“Funny, Tommi; very funny. Do you have a better idea?” Katrina beat out the others with her response but only by an instant.

“Yeah, do you have a better idea?” That from Maggie, already up from her seat and staring, hands on hips, at Tommi from less than a foot away. A fire danced gaily in the fireplace but the chill in the group’s loft apartment was growing more intense every minute.

Tommi sat calmly smiling back at Maggie and Katrina. Feeling the growing tension, Katrina stood to intervene between the two. “Give Tommi a chance Maggie. Maybe she does have a better idea.”
Finally Tommi spoke. “No. I don’t have a better idea...”

“Then why all the sarcasm?”

“Yeah?”

“...but I don’t want to let you go into this thinking it’s some romantic comedy. My father is a bitter, mean spirited, vindictive man. He is powerful and ruthless, or didn’t his treatment of Katrina and his only son, I mean ex-son,” she gestured to herself, “mean anything to you?”

The others were silent before this onslaught and Tommi paced back and forth as she continued. “If you want to do this, please go into it with your eyes wide open. Go into it knowing that my ex-father, Franklin Brodsky, will marshal his enormous resources to stop you. No, that’s not true. He won’t just try to stop you. He’ll try to destroy you, to crush you. And along with you, he’ll try to destroy your families, your friends, and anyone else who might, just might, get in his way. So understand, you’re about to enter into a war, a dirty, ugly, deadly war.”

She finally wound down and dropped into a seat away from the others with a huge sigh and wiped away the tears that had formed as she was speaking. Maggie slowly slid back into her chair also. The others said nothing while Katrina walked into the bedroom and returned with some facial tissues. Handing the tissues to Tommi, Katrina stood behind the still crying woman and gently rubbed her neck and shoulders. “It’s okay. It’s all right. We understand.”

Tommi looked up from daubing at her eyes to see the others nodding in agreement. She began crying again.

“Dick Baldwin and Harry Walton to see you, sir.”

“Show them in.”

“Yes sir.” Sandra Smalling looked up from the intercom. “This way, gentlemen.” She was much too competent an executive secretary to show any emotion as she watched the two men blanch at the thought of seeing Franklin Brodsky, of course the huge ornately carved oak door that opened like a yawning chasm or the maw of some gigantic beast did little to ease their tension. Sandra was expecting it as they both jumped and almost bolted out of the boss’ office when she closed the door behind them with its deep, solid, reverberating thud. Brodsky ignored them, instead staring at the picture of his wife and son on the credenza behind his desk until they were seated opposite his huge desk.

“Thank you Mrs. Smalling. That will be all.” Sandra turned on her heel and exited with out another word. The two visitors jumped again when she closed the door behind them a second time.
About ten minutes later, the intercom buzzed again. “Mrs. Smalling, please have Security show Mr. Baldwin and Mr. Walton out of the building.”

“Yes sir.” She dialed Security as she waited for the two men to exit the boss’ office.

“Please, have a seat gentleman. Security will be here in a moment.” They ignored her, or rather seemed too dazed to recognize that anyone else was there, let alone talking to them.

“Now what do we do?”

“I don’t know Harry. I think we’re in trouble.”

“I have a cousin in Canada.”

“Not far enough. Know anyone beyond Saturn.”

“No.”

“That’s okay; it might not be far enough away anyway.”

“So, now what do we do?”

The continuing display of cyclic logic was interrupted by the arrival of Security. Four burly guards stomped across the oak flooring in their jackboots to surround the two dazed men and bustle them away. Sandra just shook her head sadly as she watched them being led away.

“Renfrew!”

“Yes Master?”

“Have a car and driver ready at the front entrance in fifteen minutes.”

“Yes, Master. Any instructions for the driver?”

“Tell the driver I would like a brunette with long wavy hair and a red head, both with exceptional endowments.”

“Yes Master. Will there be anything else?”

“Yes. Have the playroom ready.”

“Certainly, Master. It will be ready for you at eight this evening. Will that be satisfactory?”

“Very good, Renfrew; and I’ll have dinner in half an hour. I want to clean up a bit first.”

“Certainly, Master Brodsky.”

“This place is really jumping tonight.” Even the dressing room was louder than usual and Barbie needed to yell for Maggie to hear her. “Where are the others?”

“Out in the pit mingling; they’re doing their best to drum up some money. Hand me that lipstick please.”

“The crimson or the primrose?”

“Crimson. It’s for work.” Maggie applied some to her lips and then a bit more to each areola.

“So, what do we do now?” This time the lament was muffled by Harry’s burger.

Dick put down his fast food soda cup before responding. “I don’t know, but we’ve got to do more than just ask each other ‘What are we going to do now?’”

“True, but I don’t have any brilliant ideas. It’s clear we can’t work in this country again.”

“Ah, Dick? Brodsky Holdings Inc. is a multinational company with ties and connections to who knows how many other multinationals. It may be easier to work out of the country, but not that much easier.”

“Great. So this crummy hamburger is going to be my last ‘good’ meal? Boy, are we in deep trouble.”

“I think we’ve established that beyond a shadow of a doubt.” Dick emphasized the last few words by pointing with his french fries. “We need to figure out what we can do.”

“I know. I know. I’m just stuck in a rut. I can’t believe taking a simple job as a research associate end up like this.”

“Yeah, yeah. What are our options? There must be options.” He took out a ballpoint pen and started scribbling on a napkin. “Let’s see. Negatives first.” Dick glanced up at Harry who was still shaking his head and muttering to himself. Admittedly it was an improvement over his earlier litany, but it still wasn't constructive action. Dick shook his head in frustration and returned to his fledgling list. “Negatives. This should be the easy part.

“One. No jobs and no job prospects.

“Two. Expect to be blackballed, probably worldwide. I wonder if this fine establishment is hiring?” Harry had stopped muttering and had begun looking about for a “Help Wanted” sign, a step closer to productive problems solving, but still not enough to be a useful participant.

“Three. Limited liquid resources, just a car, condo, some stocks, and savings. Hey Harry. You got a secret stash of millions so we can live the life of luxury without working anymore?”

“Nope. The best I can do is offer my motor home. It’s almost paid off. Maybe we could live cheaper using it?”

“All right Harry! Welcome back to the fray. Keep the ideas coming. We need them.” Dick’s smile seemed to help. “Where was I? Oh yeah, four. We can’t even talk about any of this without incriminating ourselves.”

“That was fun Dick.” Harry’s dower expression belied his words. “How about those positives?”

“I can do without the sarcasm.” Harry wilted a bit. “Let’s see, positives, positives. Damn.” Harry tossed his pen down. “What the hell are the positives?”

“Welcome to my world Dick. There are no positives. The only way we’re going to have a life is if we can find someone who won’t have anything to do with any aspect of Brodsky Holdings. Do you think Santa Claus is hiring?”

“No. Last I heard the elves had unionized. No one over three-foot six need apply. Plus, I think they get their raw plastics from one of Brodsky’s subsidiaries. Hey, are you going to eat those fries?”

“Tommi, Katrina. I’d like you to meet Jack Webster, Chang Wu, Archibald Goddard and William Henry Smith. Jack is CEO of BioTrionics, the most successful genetic bioengineering company after GTI. Chang is founder and Chairman of the Board of WuSoft. That’s the company that developed the security software that all the major credit card companies use. Archie runs the arbitrage division of Smith, Remington, and Browning Financial Services; Standard and Poor rates them the fourth largest financial services company in the world. Then, there’s Billy here.” Karen patted the bald head of the man on whose lap she was sitting. “Billy’s family runs First Manufacturer’s Trust, the twelfth largest bank in the U.S.A.”

“Karen’s been telling us that we should listen to a business proposal that you ladies would like to pitch. I think I speak for all of us when I point out that we did not come here because it was a climate well suited to closing business deals.” Archie winked at the other men. “However, if you’d like to come to my company suite at the Wheatsone Hotel after work tonight, I’m sure we can find something to discuss.”

Katrina looked at the other two women before snarling. “Come on ladies. These ‘gentlemen’ aren’t interested in advancing science.”

“True, but they might be interested in a thirty percent return on their money within one year, the rare opportunity to best Franklin Brodsky in a business transaction and some damn good sex.”

“Tommi!”

“What? It’s just business Katrina. I’m just setting the terms of our deal. Isn’t that right gentlemen?” They all eagerly nodded affirmatively.

“No you’re not. You’re selling your body like a–a common whore, Katrina was aghast, but Karen was watching the men intently, “and trying to take us with you.”

“Katrina, Katrina. How could you possibly think me as common when we’re talking five billion dollars? I think at those rates,” Tommi winked at the men, “I should at least be granted courtesan status.” Katrina stood mouth agape as Tommi plopped herself down on Wu’s lap with her right breast just inches from his face.

“So gentlemen, do we have something to discuss or shall we mosey over to Jefferson Daniels’ table?”
“That moneygrubber?” Webster seemed genuinely upset at the mention of the one tycoon they all despised more than Brodsky. “He’ll rob you blind.” Katrina merely raised one finely arched eyebrow and said nothing.

“Gentlemen,” Jack turned to the others. “I think Archie had the gem of an excellent idea. Let’s met tomorrow at two o’clock in Billy’s office to discuss your proposition.” Katrina glared and he continued, “Your business proposition, nothing more.”

Katrina was fit to be tied as she stormed back and forth in the Cravat’s dressing room. Only Maggie and Tommi were with her, the others were by the door keeping every one else out and incidentally avoiding the wrath of Hurricane Katrina.

“How dare you! Who gave you the right to try to turn us into whores? If I wanted to spend my life on my back, if any of us wanted to spend our lives like that, we would never have left this–this place. You are living with us, eating our food, using our clothes, even working here at our say so; and you would consider doing this to us? Maybe you really are the despicable excuse for a human being you presented yourself as at GenTech. If so, I need to inform you that some of us, some of us still have ethics. Some of us still have pride and self-worth. Some of us believe that we can accomplish great things as women without using sex as a bartering tool.”

Tommi had been sitting quietly, stoically accepting Katrina’s tirade until then, but the reminder of his lost gender was the last straw. Face a bright crimson, a combination of anger and embarrassment, Tommi stood and without a word turned to leave. Ignoring the others pleas and tugs at her blouse she walked out the door and out of the club.

“Now what do we do?” Maggie and the others were back at the apartment. Several hours of searching had been fruitless and Tommi was still missing. The feeling was one of shock and loss as evidenced by the way everyone was staring blankly away from everyone else. Each sat away from the others holding her arms tightly clutch about her waist as if to ward off the fall chill. Maggie had tears dribbling slowly down her cheeks.

“I don’t know.” Katrina’s voice cracked as she spoke. “I just don’t know.”

“I do.” It was Maggie. “I know what we’ll do, exactly as we planned.” You could see the glow of certainty creeping into her eyes as she spoke. “We’ll continue to do exactly as Tommi proposed, but we’ll also have to find someone who can find her. We need her. We need her brain, her creativity and her spontaneity.”

“Yeah, and we miss her.” Karen chimed in and the others nodded morosely.

Blonde Joke Chapter Nine by Jeffrey M. Mahr   When is it legal to shoot a blonde in the head? When you have a patch and a tire pump to reinflate it.

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The restaurant was empty of customers. There was just her, dark, wavy red hair and porcelain face wrapped in an off the shoulder gown designed to arouse without revealing. Their table was barely illuminated by the flickering light of the candle. The only table in the huge room, it was strategically placed in the center of the room. The huge ornate chandelier provided more light, but even it barely lit the edges of the room enough to make out the wood paneling on the walls or the waiters standing at the edge of the light awaiting the beauty’s beck and call. Beyond them, even further into the dimness, so that only occasional glimmers off the shinier instruments could be seen, was a small orchestra playing, of all things, Debussy. There was a faint sound and Jacqueline Brodsky turned her pensive gaze expectantly into the gloom ignoring the clatter as someone in the kitchen dropped something and then cursed.

He appeared, confidently striding out of the darkness towards her table, and her face bloomed into a smile of adoration. As he sat across from her, he snapped his fingers and a wine steward suddenly appeared to uncork and then pour a small sample of a remarkable vintage. Rolling the wine slowly around in the crystalline glass, he watched it slowly recede down the clear inside of the goblet. A crinkle began to form at the edge of his mouth. He inhaled deeply and the crinkle was almost a smile. A loud slurp and a few seconds contemplation and it became a full-fledged smile. He gave a slight nod and the steward poured for them both and disappeared.

A silent toast and he stood. Moving beside her, he placed one hand gently on her bare shoulder and held out his other hand in offering. She took it, rising gracefully and melting into him as the music segued into a slow waltz. Her head came to just below his chin as they glided across the hardwood floor and her hair tickled his nose. Grinning, Franklin Brodsky took his hand from around her slim sequined waist to gently brush her hair to one side and she groaned and rolled out of his grasp.

Frowning, he reached for her but she playfully swatted his hand away. “Getting frisky again lover boy? I wouldn’t have though an old geezer like you would have it in you.” The words oozed of slum, anger and cynicism coupled with the sound of smacking gum.

Opening his eyes he saw a garishly made up blonde partially draped in the pale yellow silk sheets of the king-sized bed in the maroon room. Slapping away the hand that was reaching under the sheet working its way down below his navel he grunted and reached for the call button beside the bed. Within seconds, two maids entered. One glided over to his side of the bed and placed a tray with a small glass of orange juice, an english muffin, and the Business Journal beside the Master while the other held out an open robe to the woman. The first maid joined the second and, without a word, they gently but firmly pulled the woman from the bed, into the robe and out of the room. She was gone within seconds while Franklin Brodsky ignored them as he frowned at his paper and sipped at the juice.

“What the hell is going on here? Why the bum’s rush? He paid for a full day not a couple of hours,” the blonde stood, hands on hips, shouting shrilly as she demanded an answer.

“Yes, Madam.” The man in the butler’s uniform handed her an envelope. “Enclosed is a small additional gratuity for your inconvenience. Please finish garbing yourself.”

Turning to the maids, he continued, “Ladies, the Madam’s ride will be by the kitchen door in fifteen minutes. Please have her ready.” With that, he stalked haughtily out of the room.

“What’s his problem, and why the hell is he calling me Madam?” She turned on the maids and glared, but got no response. The dark haired maid held out a miniskirt while the brunette held an open blouse. The woman ignored them while she counted the money in the envelope. With a nod to herself, she replaced it in the envelope and stuffed it into her panties before grabbing the proffered garments and quickly dressing.

On cue, as the last piece of clothing was being adjusted, albeit not very neatly, a huge black man with bulging muscles walked in. He stood just inside the door, silently leering at the women until the brunette spoke up. “Cut the crap Talker and take her home now or Renfrew will be angry.”

“Like I care what the penguin says. He’s responsible for the household, not the security.” Still, he turned to the hooker and grunted, “Let’s go lady. I gotta be back here in less than an hour for the Boss.” He angrily gestured for the now dressed woman to follow and stalked off without another word and without checking whether she was following.

“You’d better go now Madam.” The maids shooed her out the door after the retreating figure. Once she had left, they turned towards each other and rolled their eyes before turning back to clean up the room after another of the Master’s nights of debauchery. It seemed the rich lived by a different code than everyone else and Franklin Brodsky was very rich–and very different.

There’s a joke about Calvin Coolidge, thirtieth president of the United States of America. He was the archetypal New Englander, dour and taciturn. At a White House dinner, a society matron was sitting next to him and jabbering away. While Coolidge listened attentively, he never spoke. Finally, about half way through the dinner the frustrated woman turned to Coolidge yet again and said, “I’m going to make you speak to me. I made a bet that I could get you to say at least three words to me tonight and I intend to win.”

Coolidge considered the woman and her request with care before he answered, with just two words, “You lose.”

Talker had always liked that story. He had read it as a young boy and always liked the idea of the stoic hero like his other favorite president, Teddy Roosevelt and his “walk softly but carry a big stick” policy. That’s why he so disliked his current nickname. Maybe if his partner would speak once in a while it wouldn’t have been an issue, but Clyde wouldn’t, so Talker was left that role, and thus the nickname.

Regardless, he knew not to disturb the man he was currently chauffeuring to his office. This was the time of day when Franklin Brodsky communed with his gods, Baron’s, Business Week and, the holy of holies, The Wall Street Journal. Actually, Talker enjoyed the ride because it was so quiet. Thus, he was surprised to hear Brodsky cursing loudly enough to be heard through the privacy glass. He was even more surprised when the epithets continued the next five minutes, until just before they arrived at the offices of Brodsky Holdings Inc.

“Mrs. Smalling. Come in here.” The boss snarled.

Sandra Smalling was an excellent executive secretary. At fifty-two, she was also proof that age does not always mar beauty. A ravishing raven-haired beauty, her attire was always immaculate but conservative. But her beauty was more than just physical, she was the core of Brodsky Holdings Inc. (BHI), the glue that held it together, especially since the death of Mrs. Brodsky five years ago. The loss of his wife Jacqueline, after a prolonged and painful illness, had taken something out of Franklin Brodsky. Where he had been a caring, outgoing, jovial man with an incredible knack for making money when she had first started working for him nineteen years ago, he was now bitter, sullen and distant with remarkably little active interest in his still growing empire.

Most inside observers thought that BHI would have collapsed were it not for the efforts of employees like Sandra who, to stay with the company, had turned down more competitors’ job offers than she cared to remember. It wasn’t the money, every offer had been for significantly more than she currently earned, and it wasn’t respect for Brodsky, at least not for the conniving, vicious and bitter man that he now was, but for another reason, one Sandra would never admit out loud.
Sandra was not looking forward to the upcoming conversation. It wasn’t the law suit. BHI had more lawyers than most small cities, and even if Dr. Isseksen won her suits for harassment, wrongful termination and kidnap, most of the first two would be covered by the company’s insurance and the kidnap would be blamed on Brodsky’s missing son or those stooges he’d had working for him, Harry Baldwin and Dick Walton. It wasn’t even today’s announcement of competition from an unexpected and potentially costly source for the plum of BHI’s holdings, GTI. While the competition might be costly, it was quite premature to be concerned considering how many things could yet go wrong between today’s ambitious start-up announcement and the delivery of a product.

Actually, Sandra was expecting Mr. Brodsky to call her in to give her instructions designed to undermine the budding competitor’s efforts. That seemed to be his sole involvement in BHI of late, finding ways to destroy competitors. With a sigh, she made a quick check of her makeup, grabbed her steno pad, and headed into the sanctum sanctorum.

“Mrs. Smalling, please instruct our head of security to distribute this photograph to any private investigators he feels competent to find the woman in the picture and maintain absolute confidentiality. I do not want word of this search to become public in any way, shape or form.”

“Yes sir.” She took the proffered image. “Is there anything else I can tell him, anything that will make it easier to find this person?”

“No.”

“Is there anything else sir?”

“No.”

“Sir?”

“What?”

“Have you decided what to do about the lawsuit by Dr. Isseksen et. al.? Or the threat to GTI by the new company she’s starting?”

“No Mrs. Smalling.” He turned away from her to rock gently as he stared at the pictures on the credenza behind his desk.

Sandra was surprised, but like the consummate professional she was, she turned and walked out of the office without further comment. Every time she came into his office, she hoped against hope that maybe Franklin Brodsky was finally preparing to rejoin the human race, but knew, deep down, that each instruction would somehow end up being just another one of his vicious little plans.

“Neil, please come up here. Mr. Brodsky has a ‘special job’ for you.” Sandra put the photograph down on the edge of her desk with a sigh. Frustrated and still waiting for the other shoe to drop, she sought something functional to do, anything to keep away the tears. She hated Franklin this way, when he withdrew from life like he had for the past several years. It was like he had put the last bits of his humanity in a jar somewhere and sealed it away. It was amazing that she was able to perform as well as she did when he shut her out. Wondering if she might find something that would help resolve the Isseksen problem she pulled out the good doctor’s folder. Opening it she began skimming through it without really reading it until she glanced at the employee identification photograph and gasped.

“I don’t know what to tell you Neil,” Sandra told Neil Stevens, Chief of Security for BHI as she showed him photographs of two identical women. “Mr. Brodsky called me in and told me to have you distribute this picture,” she pointed to one, “to any private investigators you trusted to maintain complete confidentiality and ask them to find her.” A manicured finger jabbed down at the offending second image. “The problem is that this is Dr. Katrina Isseksen and we know exactly where she is. Her current residence is listed on the various court papers she filed when she sued us. I don’t know what tell you.”

“So, let’s ask.”

“Even before I knew who it was, I asked for more information and was refused. I’m not optimistic that asking again would be advisable.”

“So let’s go in and tell him we’ve found his mystery woman. If we have, he’ll be happy and if not, he’ll have to tell us something more or drop this whole thing.” Sandra looked dubious. “We can always deflect any anger by pointing out that this Dr. Isseksen is a dead ringer for the woman in the photo.” Neither wanted to consider the third possibility, that Franklin Brodsky had finally “lost it.”

With significant trepidation, Sandra announced the Security Chief and followed him into Franklin Brodsky’s office. The senior Brodsky was still immersed in his contemplation of the family pictures on his credenza, his wife Jacqueline and their son Thomas, both gone now. He did not turn when they entered, instead acknowledging their presence with a barely audible grunt.

“Sir? The woman you’ve asked us to find. I think we may already know her whereabouts.”

“Explain.”

“We think you may be asking us to locate Dr. Katrina Isseksen, sir.”

Brodsky continued rocking wordlessly. Sandra was beginning to think he had fallen asleep when he suddenly swung about in his chair to stare at them. “Neil, is it?” Neil nodded. “The person you’re looking for is an identical twin of the good doctor’s.”

Sandra was confused. “Our records only show her as having a younger sister, not a twin.”
“You are correct Mrs. Smalling.” Turning back to the Security Chief Brodsky continued. “Now please distribute the photograph as I requested.” With that the chair silently circled back to face the credenza and he was gone again, staring at the photos.

Blonde Joke Chapter Ten by Jeffrey M. Mahr   How did the blonde break her leg raking leaves? She fell out of the tree.

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“Sir?” Mrs. Smalling asked.

“What?” There was a rustle of paper, but the senior Brodsky declined to look up from the material on his desk.

“There’s a Mister George Tennant here to see you. He says he’s a private investigator and that he has some information that you need to know.”

“No. Tell him to go away. You know better than to bother me with such trivialities.”
A brief whispering could be heard over the intercom and she continued, “He says it’s about your daughter.”

There was an uncharacteristic several-second silence followed by what sounded like throat clearing. “Show him in.” Then, the intercom clicked off.

Sandra was surprised but quickly stood and came around her huge desk, heels clicking on the solid oak flooring of her office area, to escort the disreputable looking gentleman into the thickly carpeted inner sanctum of Franklin Brodsky. The senior Brodsky never saw people between noon and one and it was still seven minutes shy of one. Additionally, Sandra didn’t think the Brodsky’s had a daughter, at least there weren’t any pictures of a distaff Brodsky amongst the few pictures on the wall behind Mr. Brodsky’s desk and she was sure that neither Jacqueline nor he had spoken of one in her presence. Sandra of course said nothing and showed no emotion beyond polite interest as she led Mr. Tennant in and surreptitiously double-checked her boss’ small gallery of portraits. As she remembered, there was only the boss’s wife Jacqueline with her beautiful wavy raven mane, but she was a well-trained executive secretary and knew better than to question any of her boss’ actions.

“This is Mr. Tennant. Mr. Tennant this is Franklin Brodsky. Mr. Tennant, may I offer you something to drink?”

“No thank you.” Sandra backed out of the room and closed the door.

Tennant lasciviously stared at the comely secretary as she departed. He waited until the elaborately filigreed door had closed with a solid "thunk." “Thank you for seeing me. I...”

“You have exactly two minutes. I recommend you don’t squander it.” Fingers drummed impatiently on the mammoth desk, sterile in its emptiness but for a neatly folded newspaper.

“Uh...I know where your daughter is.”

“I’m waiting.”

“I found her at a shelter downtown.”

Silence.

“The address costs money Mr. Brodsky. Some of us work for a living.”

“Why should I believe you Mr. Tennant?”

“You shouldn’t.” Tennant’s smile was strongly reminiscent of a hungry barracuda with food swimming into his mouth. “You should believe your eyes.” Two grainy photographs appeared and fluttered to the desk before Brodsky. One appeared to be a transfer from a security camera or an ID card while the other showed a dirt-smudged and scraped up face blanketed with a poorly cared for mane of blonde hair.

“This one is the one your security office has been quietly distributing,” Tennant pointed to the poorer of the two pictures, “and this one I took about two hours ago. When I showed her your picture she called you daddy,” he leered. “Or did she mean ‘sugar daddy.’”

The silence dragged on. Finally, Brodsky reached for the intercom and flipped it on. “Mrs. Smalling, have a check prepared for?” he glared at Tennant.

“Five thousand will do nicely Mr. Brodsky.”

“Mrs. Smalling, a check for twenty five hundred dollars. I want it on my desk in two minutes.” He clicked the intercom off and leaned back in his high back leather chair. “Where?”

“I assume that’s my down payment.”

“I will not ask again Mr. Tennant, nor do I make it a habit of negotiating.”

Another silence. They were getting boring, but Brodsky had not gained his empire without being an astute judge of character. He waited patiently for the check, rocking slowly back and forth in his huge leather bound chair with just barely the hint of a smile on his face as he calmly watched Tennant gnaw at his lip and squirm worriedly in his chair. When the check finally arrived, Brodsky could see beads of sweat on Tennant’s forehead.

“Here is the check, Mr. Brodsky.” Brodsky acknowledged Sandra’s presence with a nod but his eyes never left Tennant. As she had been taught, Sandra placed the check on the desk nearer Brodsky than Tennant, but facing Tennant so he could read it. The silence dragged on as Sandra left. After another minute, Brodsky slowly leaned forward reaching towards the check.

“Wait!” Tennant lunged forward in his haste to beat Brodsky to the check but lost. The words poured out of his mouth as he watched the check waving languidly in Brodsky’s hand. “She’s sitting in my office. I can get her and bring her here in about one hour. Where do you want her? Just tell me.”

Brodsky leaned back in his chair, his smile replaced by a fleeting look of disappointment and then he was all business again. “Have her brought to my estate.” He flicked the intercom on again. “Mrs. Smalling, please escort Mr. Tennant out and give him directions to ‘White Wood.’” Tennant watched horrified as the check was cut neatly in half. “Here’s your down payment Mr. Tennant. The remainder will be awaiting you, and your delivery, at my estate.” The other half was handed to Mrs. Smalling and with that Brodsky’s attention returned to his newspaper.

“A pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Brodsky. Now give me the rest of the money and you’ve also bought my silence.” It was Tennant’s turn to smile as Brodsky considered.

Finally, he responded with a snarl, “It will be at ‘White Wood’ when you deliver the goods, Mr. Tennant.”

Once the heavy office door had closed yet again Tennant turned to Sandra, “Is the old bastard always like that?”

“Excuse me?”

“Is he always such a bastard?”

Sandra just smiled politely and handed him an envelope, “The address is on the outside of the envelope and an authorization for entry to Mr. Brodsky’s White Wood estate is inside the envelope Mr. Tennant. Have a nice day.”

“Delivery.” Tennant spoke into the intercom. His car was stopped in front of the huge wrought iron gate blocking entry to White Wood.

“All deliveries around back.” The intercom clicked off although the video monitor slowly panned over to face Tennant and then stopped. The voice had an English accent adding superiority to the more obvious tones of disdain.

“This is Brodsky’s daughter.”

“Mr. Brodsky has no daughter. If you persist the constables will be contacted.” Click.

“I suggest you read this letter and open this damn gate now or I’ll turn around and leave you to explain to your boss why his express instructions were not followed.” Tennant sneered as he waved the envelope with the Brodsky Enterprises logo on it.

“That is merely an envelope. Open it and show me what’s in it sir.”

“Sure friend.” Tennant smiled at the sudden warmth in the conversation as he flipped open the envelope and pulled out the piece of paper inside. “I’m opening it as we speak friend. Here it is. It says to let me in.” He waved it towards the video monitor.

“Hold the letter to the monitor please.” A lens zoomed out.

“This permits entry for one person, a female. Is there a female with you?”

“Yeah. She’s in the back seat sleeping.”

“Present her to the monitor.”

“I told you she’s sleeping.”

“Wake her.”

“No.”

“Then we have no further business to discuss.”

“Right, friend. Tell that to your boss. I’ll wave to you as I drive past the Unemployment Office.” Tennant reached out and started his car.

“Wait. Someone will be at the gate in several minutes.”

“Sure friend, but speed it up. Time is money.” He turned the car off again grinning as he waited. It was always fun to burst the bubble of some martinet. Maybe there would yet be a way of serving back Brodsky some more of his own.

He was less happy when he saw the two well-armed guards exit the car that stopped on the other side of the gate. Especially since their weapons were pointed at him and it was evident they were well trained from the way they carried themselves.

“Get out of the vehicle. Now!” One gestured with his gun while the other stood a bit apart, poised and alert, neither eyes nor gun wavering from Tennant.

“Sure thing, friend. Don’t do anything we’ll both be sorry for. Have you considered lowering those guns just a bit? It might go a long way towards making this little táªte-á -táªte friendlier.” The patter continued without effect, as neither gun wavered. With hands in clear view at all times Tennant reached out to open his door from the outside and slowly slid out of the car.

“Move away from the vehicle.” The talker’s gun briefly left his anatomy long enough to gesture.

“Sure friend. Not a problem.” Tennant took two steps away from the car, hands still in the hair. The talker pulled a walkie-talkie off his belt and spoke into it. Seconds later the gate began to open in towards the guards, but stopped after opening only about two feet. First one and then the second guard carefully slide through the gate while the other covered Tennant from a clear vantage point, but never once did either gun waver from his abdomen.

“Up against the wall! Move it! Hands against the wall! Spread the legs! Wider!” The frisk was very professional with the talker holstering his gun while patting him down and the silent one carefully positioned to permit him to efficiently split his attention between the car and Tennant. Tennant was glad he had no weapons on his person, as he wasn’t sure how the guards would have reacted if they had found something besides his wallet and the authorization letter. After finishing the frisk, he was handcuffed to the gate. Then, the talker carefully read the letter, stuffed it into his pocket and turned his full attention to the car.

Finding an unconscious, disheveled woman wearing torn and filthy men’s clothing, the talker motioned to the silent guard who holstered his weapon and, with an ease suggestive of great strength, pulled the women from the car. When she remained unconscious even after several not so light taps on the cheek he lifted her over his shoulder, carried her to the other car and lay her carefully on the rear seat. Returning to the gate, he pulled his weapon and again aimed it at Tennant.

“The gate is about to close.” Talker had moved to the guard’s vehicle. “After it is closed and I have left, your handcuffs will be removed. You will get into your vehicle and leave immediately or the local police will be called to pick you up for trespass.”

“Great, but what about the rest of my money?”

“Nothing in the letter about money.”

“Brodsky owes me for this delivery. He said he would have it for me when I dropped the girl off here.”

“That’s nice. Take it up with him.” With that, he got into the car and backed it up the driveway. Just as the car moved out of site around a curve, the gate began moving and ponderously closed. The silent guard, standing just inside the gate, gestured while holding the handcuff key.

“What the hell is it with Brodsky and money?” Tennant muttered rhetorically before turning to the silent guard. “Why all the security?” He held out his hands and the cuffs were removed.

The silent guard gestured with his gun for Tennant to leave.

“Sure. No problem. Watch me backing away. See, now I’m getting into the car.” Starting the car he called out the open window, “And now watch me leaving.” He backed out onto the main road and shifted into drive offering an extended finger as he roared off.

About four miles down the road he stopped at a pay telephone. Dialing a number, he waited while it rang. On the fourth ring he got an answering machine. “Pick up. It’s me. She’s in, but I couldn’t get by the guards to check the place out in case she needs help. She’s on her own.”

“My lord, what a filthy creature.” Renfrew’s English accent dripped with contempt. “Take that thing back to the rock you found it under. You may not bring it into this house.”

“I suggest you read this.” The guard pulled out the authorization letter and handed it to Renfrew who read it, snorted in distaste and turned to the two maids standing quietly behind him.

“Clean it up and place it in the Rose Room.” With that he crumpled the paper and threw it in the garbage. Then, he turned and marched back into the house leaving two very bewildered maids to figure out where to start to even begin to comply with the butler’s instructions.

Talker turned to the still unmoving maids. “You! Strip her. You get some bath towels.” When they didn’t move he spoke more forcefully, “Move it!”

When they jumped and scurried off, he turned and stalked off, only to return in a couple of seconds with a garden hose. Dowsing the slumped body caused it to squirm but it never quite awakened.

He turned the water off just as the other maid trotted back with the towels.

“Strip her.” When they hesitated, he pulled out his gun and shouted it. “I said strip her.”

They jumped to comply and seconds later he was hosing down a naked woman.

“Dry her off.” He waited impatiently while they complied, then picked her up and draped her over his shoulder before marching off to the Rose Room trailed by the two maids. Reaching the Rose Room, Talker waited for one of the maids to open the door then stalked in and dropped the body on the bed.

“She’s all yours ladies.” With that, he turned and left.

The two maids looked at each other still confused as to what to do. The Master, or the Bastard as they called him behind his back, had had many women over since the death of his wife many years ago. They had come for anything from a few hours to a few weeks in the past. Some had been very nice and dignified while others had been gold digging creatures. Just about all had made the Master happy for their stay, but he had never had one that was unconscious or at best barely conscious like this one. Given the unusual situation, and the lack of help and guidance being provided by the new Mistress, they put up their feet and relaxed with a cigarette as they decided how comply with Renfrew’s instructions. Finally decided, they put out their smokes and went to work on the new Mistress.

 

Blonde Joke Chapter Eleven by Jeffrey M. Mahr   What do you do when a blonde throws a pin at you? Run like Hell. She’s got a hand grenade in her mouth.

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“Well now, shall we see what the daily opinion tally is today?” Maggie dropped a bundle of newspapers on the coffee table and dropped into a chair beside her sister. Katrina just lay unresponsively on the couch with a damp towel over her eyes and forehead. She hadn’t even changed out of the conservatively cut, dark blue skirt and suit jacket she had worn to court.

“Come on Kat, lighten up. You knew they were going to throw the kitchen sink at you.”

“Kitchen sink? They’re working on throwing Grand Coolie Dam at me. Did you know that today they tried to accuse me of having murdered Tom Brodsky, Dick Baldwin and Harry Walton? Our attornies tell me they’ve been lobbying local, state, and federal authorities to indict me.

“Yeah, it probably would have been a bit easier if Tommi were still around.”

“Thanks for the reminder, I needed that.” Katrina groaned and rolled over and burying her face in the couch.

“You’re welcome, Kat,” Maggie smiled brightly. “Isn’t that what little sisters are for?

“Are Karen and Barbie with Jack and Chang?”

A groan from the couch.

“I’ll take that as an affirmative,” Maggie sighed as she picked up the newspapers. “You’re a real downer today. If you won’t talk I’ll just sit here and read the newspapers. Let’s see ...

"Business Week says ‘the continuing nastiness between Katrina Isseksen and her former employer, GTI, bodes poorly for the quarterly earnings of both GTI and BioTronics, Isseksen’s new employer.’ Gee, should I sell my BioTronics stock?”

Another groan from the couch.

“Okay, next paper. USA Today says, ‘Today, lawyer’s for GTI and Brodsky Holdings Inc. announced the expected counter suits alleging violation of the non-competition clause of Dr. Isseksen’s contract and copyright infringement.’ Not bad for the second day of the trial. May I assume they also sought show cause orders?”

Yet another groan.

“Another affirmative. I’m batting a thousand today. With this kind of record I’ve just got to try another newspaper. Let’s see...”

Maggie sorted through the several remaining papers, “How about? Yes! National Enquirer, the perfect choice. They say...

“‘Genetic researcher Katrina Isseksen is planning a surprise witness, a genetic clone of Elvis she carried to gestation over the last year.’”

“What?!” Katrina was up and off the couch trying to rip the paper out of Maggie’s hands. “Let me see that!”

Maggie released the paper and laughed as Katrina almost lost her balance. Dropping to the floor by the coffee table Katrina rapidly leafed through the offending paper. “Where? Where is it? That can’t be true.”

Maggie just continued to laugh. Finally, taking a ragged breath she answered, “No, but I needed to get you out of that funk and the simple solution, getting you mad at me, wasn’t working, so I went for stupid. Thank god for supermarket rags. I was really beginning to worry about you.”

Katrina just sputtered in disbelief before throwing the paper at Maggie. “That was mean, little M&M.”

“But necessary. You know this is just the beginning. It will get worse and you need to concentrate on BioTronics, not this legal farce.”

“Yeah, I know.” Katrina stood and smoothed her skirt before sitting back down on the couch. “But those people are being unmitigated bastards. They’re lying, they’re...”

“They’re lawyers. And they’re not lying; they’re merely reinterpreting the truth. It’s what they’re paid to do.”

“But, but...” Katrina was sputtering now.

“But it’s really hard to accept and that’s why there are so many jokes that involve bad things happening to lawyers.” Maggie thought a moment. “Do you know what the problem is with lawyer jokes?

When Katrina shook her head, Maggie continued, “The lawyers don’t think they’re funny and, the rest of us don’t think they’re jokes.”

Katrina stared uncomprehending so Maggie tried again. “Why are lawyers like enemas?

Maggie continued without waiting for Katrina to answer. “You hate them until you need one, then you still hate them.”

She glanced at her sister now frowning perplexedly. “A difficult crowd tonight. Okay. What is a criminal lawyer?

“Redundant.”

A slight smile wavered on Katrina’s face. “How many lawyers does it take to roof a house?

“Depends on how thin you slice them.

“How do you know if a lawyer is well hung?

“When you can’t fit your fingers between the rope and his neck.

“Why does Washington, D.C. have the most lawyers and New Jersey the most toxic waste dumps?

“New Jersey had first pick.”

Katrina was trying to look angry but was finding it difficult.

“What do slime molds have more of than lawyers?

“Respect.

“Why did the lawyer cross the road?

“He saw a car accident on the other side.

“What do you call an honest lawyer?

“An impossibility.

“What do you get when you cross a lawyer with another lawyer?

“Nothing; there are some things that even nature will not permit.”

Katrina smiled at that, but then bit her tongue and did a miserable job of looking angry.

“Oh come on Kat. Give it up already. You’re going to smile if I have to bury you in lawyer jokes. How can you tell when a lawyer is lying?

“His lips are moving.”

“All right already. I give.” Katrina smiled at last and Maggie cheered. Thinking a moment, Katrina realized that when she had relaxed enough to smile, it had been like the weight of the world had been lifted from her shoulders.

“It’s about time, but your psychologist prescribes more. You tell one.”

“I don’t know any.”

“Hogwash! Tell me a lawyer joke or I’ll keep telling them. You know I can make you wet your pants if I get going, so give with the jokes.”

“Okay. Okay. I give. Let me think.” Katrina was silent for several moments speaking again only when she saw Maggie taking a breath in order to start again. “Why won’t sharks attack lawyers?”

“Professional courtesy,” Maggie answered first. “Good. Another.”

“What do you have when a lawyer is buried up to his neck in sand?

“Not enough sand,” Katrina said with a giggle, this time beating Maggie to the punch line.

“One or two more should be enough,” Karen decided. “How many law professors does it take to change a light bulb?

“Hell, you need two-hundred and fifty just to lobby for the research grant.”

“Excellent Kat,” Maggie acknowledged as she laughed along with Katrina now. One final one and I’ll let you rest.”

“What are lawyers good for?

“They make car salesmen look good.”

Both women fell back onto the couch laughing uncontrollably until Katrina’s eyes went wide and she bolted for the bathroom.

Maggie stopped laughing just long enough to shout after her, “Yeah! I knew I could still do it.” Then her eyes bugged out too and she ran for the other bathroom.

“My enemy’s enemy is my friend.”

“What? Go to sleep Harry.”

“I can’t, the beds in this RV are too narrow. I keep waking up feeling like I’m starting to fall out.” Dick croaked out as he shimmied back against the wall yet again.

“Fine, then at least tell me what you said.”

“I said I couldn’t sleep.”

“I mean before that,” Dick yawned.

“Oh. I said ‘My enemy’s enemy is my friend.’ It’s an old saying meaning the best person to go to when your enemy is winning is someone who also hates that same enemy. He may not like you, but if he likes your enemy even less, he may help you.”

“Feel free to answer me tomorrow when I’m awake, but that means what?”

“It means, Dick, that I’m driving us back to the city.”

“Now?”

“Now.” Harry started dressing.

“Do I have to get up also?”

“Nope; just leave the driving to me.” Dick was asleep before Harry could start the motor home.

“She looks trashy.”

Tommi, still groggy, stood leaning against the wall.

“Good. The Master should be happy for a few hours.”

“The slut can barely stand. Let’s put her on the bed and let her sleep it off.” With that, the first maid gave Tommi a not too gentle shove. They both laughed as she staggered toward the bed and fell face first on top of it.

“Let’s go.”

“One minute. Let’s at least roll her onto her back.”

“Why bother? The Master will probably want her lying on her stomach so he can ‘play’ with her.”

“Well, then at least let’s put her legs up on the bed.”

“Oh, all right.”

Blonde Joke Chapter Twelve by Jeffrey M. Mahr   Why don’t bosses let blondes take lunch breaks? So they don’t have to retrain them if they find their way back.

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“We’ve got visitors,” Katrina called out as she peered out through the crack between the slats of the blinds in the living room. Karen and Barbie squealed and ran for the bedroom. They had been lounging in their nightgowns and were not going to be seen without clothes and makeup. Maggie just laughed and adjusted her robe around her flannel pajamas.

“Girls; come out of there. They’re not those kinds of visitors.”

The bedroom door opened a crack and Karen’s head peeked out. “What?”

“It’s probably reporters of something. Someone’s parked a camper across the street and periodically I see something that looks like binoculars looking our way.

“Son of a...” Karen strode angrily back into the living room. “Aren’t those bastards ever going to let us be?”

“I doubt it,” Karen opined, “at least as long as we’re news. And we can’t really do much about it; we need them on our side. This is as much a public relations battle as it is legal action.”

“But I’m not sure these folks are from the press.” Katrina observed pensively. She was still at the window, watching the people watching their loft. “Except for the folks from tabloids like the National Enquirer, the paparazzi, everyone from the press has been very straight forward. These folks keep hiding behind the shades of the windows in that camper.”

“Well,” Maggie noted with a smile and an arched eyebrow, “if they’re paparazzi, we don’t need their help girls. Anyone interested in a little relatively harmless fun?” The others waited while she ran to her room and returned with a bag of balloons and some aerosol cans of shaving cream.

“What?” she asked when they looked at her askance. “I had them for the party I was planning–for after we won the case.”

About half an hour later, a very pretty girl in a very small halter-top and a very short, very tight pair of shorts strode up to the camper and knocked tentatively on the door. “Excuse me?” The voice oozed innocence and sex appeal. “Is anyone in there? My car won’t start and I was wondering if you could help me.”

The door opened and two middle-aged men peered myopically at her through the screen door.

“My car won’t start,” she repeated as she pouted prettily. “I turn the key, but nothing happens. Could one of you big strong men help me?”

There was a brief pushing match at the doorway as each tried to be first to the aid of the lovely damsel in distress. The taller and slightly thinner one won.

“Where’s your car, Miss?”

“Yeah, maybe I can help you,” the other man said as he pushed in front of the first man.

“Hey, get back in line. Besides, you’re a computer nerd. What do you know about cars?”

“It’s right down the street, just past that big deliver truck,” the damsel in question interrupted their battle. She was already walking in the direction she’d pointed. Still jockeying for position, the two men followed, paying more attention to her dancing butt cheeks than anything else. As she passed the truck, the girl suddenly turned into the street and disappeared. The two men followed and, when they got to the street side of the truck, they heard a woman’s voice yell “NO!” just as they were struck with a dozen balloons filled with shaving cream.

Franklin Brodsky was not a happy man. He had spent most of the day looking for a way to break the heart of Isseksen’s alliance, but so far had been unsuccessful. The bitch could tie him up for years if he didn’t stop her. Of course, he had been able to plant a few seeds that might come back to help later, but it was not enough and he knew it. The IRS could be an irritant, but Isseksen’s folks had as many accountants as he did. As a result, the ride home was not pleasant. Franklin was seriously considering hiring someone to kill the bitch.

“I’m going to my room. Have dinner ready in an hour and a drink on my desk in five minutes,” he snarled as he stalked through the kitchen entrance at White Wood from the garage where Talker had parked the car.

“Y…yes Master,” Renfrew stuttered. “What about the woman?” But Brodsky was already out the other door leading to the “upstairs” section of the house. Renfrew was uncertain if he had heard and was not going to seek him out to confirm whether he had.

In his dressing room, Brodsky undressed and put on a bathrobe. A moment later there was a tentative knock on the door. Then a maid entered. She silently placed an extra dry martini with an olive on his nightstand, curtseyed and left as quickly as she could.

Strolling through a passage door, Brodsky entered his bedroom, the Rose room, and saw the woman lying face down on the king-sized bed. She was a blonde, which made Brodsky smile. It would be nice to get even with at least one blonde. She was wearing his favorite outfit, a red leather confection that displayed her breasts and crotch while draping itself diaphanously over her shoulders, buttocks and a miniscule portion of thigh.

Brodsky strode to the Mahogany nightstand. Smiling contemptuously, he pulled several articles from the drawer, a ball gag, a whip and a slim dagger with a very sharp point. He could no longer punish his wife Jacqueline for leaving him, nor could he punish Isseksen for the trouble she was causing him, but this bitch would do for the moment.

He picked up the whip first, snapping it twice in the air to make certain of his control. Turning to the woman on the bed, he growled, “Turn over bitch.”

“Nnnn. Wha?” the woman struggled toward consciousness and nearly made it. The pillow muffled her words.

The whip snapped.

“Ow! Shit, that hurt.” The woman jerked. She was fully awake now.

“I said, turn over bitch, and speak politely,” the senior Brodsky demanded.

Tommi turned over and glared up at her father.

Franklin Brodsky sat back, engulfed by his leather chair, surrounded by the trappings of what was important to him. A life-size portrait of his wife was on the far wall, encircled by white wall, just above the dark mahogany wainscoting and positioned so that she was always watching him with her “Mona Lisa”-like smile as he sat at his desk. On one sidewall was a trophy case with a mixture of awards won by various family members. The rest of the room was barren, devoid of ornamentation, excluding a thick, rich Berber rug and two smaller versions of the desk chair. Tommi Brodsky sat, on the edge of one of the guest chairs, legs primly crossed at the ankle, back rigidly straight and proud as she tried to stare down her father.

“So,” the elder Brodsky sneered. “What the hell am I supposed to do with you? Just because you used to be my son doesn’t mean you’re anything to me know. You’re certainly not related to me by blood.”

“Whether I’m your son or your daughter is irrelevant,” Tommi responded with practiced ease. “Whether you think of me as your blood or not is also irrelevant. What is relevant is that you need me.”

The only response was a snort of disbelief.

“I expected you to feel that way and I’m prepared to prove it. Aside from the obvious knowledge of Brodsky family holdings and a better knowledge of the way you think than any other living human being…”

“That makes you qualified to compete with Miss Smalling for her job. You’re welcome to call my office for an interview.”

“…I also know the intimate details of every project initiated by GenTech Industries in at least the last five years.”

“What is this–extortion? Are you going to threaten to threaten to sell that information to the highest bidder?”

“I’ll never understand how mother put up with you,” Tommi snapped as she glared back at the man across from her. “Will you please shut up for a moment? If I wanted to sell company information, I wouldn’t have bothered to stop in to visit my loving father.” He accented the word “loving” just enough to make his father scowl, but the reference to his father’s wife was enough to silence him, at least for the moment she wanted.

“As I was saying, I can give you the inside scoop on all the legal and other maneuvering going on in the Isseksen camp.” Realizing she’d been leaning forward in her rush to get the words out before being interrupted again, Tommi leaned back into the soft chair and crossed her arms under her breasts, daring her father to make another snide comment.

Tension seemed to fill the air, a cloying thickness that grew even more intense as the silence dragged on. Finally, the silence was broken, first by the squeak of one of the wheels on Franklin Brodsky’s desk chair, then by peels of laughter. “Welcome back son,” he laughed.

“Your Honor, I must object. These witnesses have already testified and been cross-examined, yet here they are offering new testimony in conflict with prior sworn statements and testimony. At the very least I would request they be charged with perjury.”

“Please your Honor, now counsel is trying to tell you how to rule. He called these witnesses and opened this line of questioning. This is merely redirect.”

“Redirect? What did your clients do, bribe these men? Threaten them with ‘blacklisting?’”

“This coming from the attorney of the biggest union-busting company in the biochemical industry?”

The gavel stuck repeatedly. “Gentlemen! Approach the bench! This instant!”

The judge leaned forward and whispered with a barely concealed snarl. “My court room is not your personal soapbox, Mr. Shapiro. And Mr. Johnson, if I hear one more potentially slanderous remark, you’ll be spending time behind bars. Do I make myself clear gentlemen?”

They both nodded.

“Good. Then we shall proceed, but with decorum.

“Mr. Shapiro, your objection is denied. You introduced the testimony of these men. If you think what they have to say now is perjury, we can deal with that in a later hearing.

“Now, Mr. Johnson; proceed–but be very careful to limit your questioning to topics relevant to the initial testimony.”

“Thank you your Honor.” Charlie Johnson turned and walked to the jury box and spoke to the jury. “I think this will help you to decide who is actually innocent or guilty in this case.”

“Objection, your Honor. That’s not a question and he’s not addressing his remarks to the witness.”

“Sustained. Mr. Johnson, address the witness.”

“Yes your Honor.

“Mr. Walton. Do you remember the conversation we were talking about prior to this interruption?”

“Yes, sir. The one two days before Mr. Brodsky disappeared.”

“Do you remember the topic of conversation?”

“Yes, sir. Dr. Isseksen came into the lab and Mr. Brodsky told a blonde joke.”

“Yes, Mr. Walton. Would you please share that joke with the Court?”

“Yes sir. Mr. Brodsky asked, ‘What was the blonde psychic’s greatest achievement?’ Then, when we didn’t answer, he gave us the punch line. ‘An in-body experience.’”

A couple of the women on the jury shifted uncomfortably. A couple of the men and a larger group from behind the rail chuckled.

“Objection. Mr. Johnson has not shown relevance.”

“Mr. Johnson?”

We are attempting to prove that this was a hostile workplace, your Honor.”

“Sustained, but if that’s your case, it would be better tried in a federal court.”

Charlie Johnson cleared his throat and continued. “And where was Dr. Isseksen at the time?”

“In the lab, working.”

“What color is Dr. Isseksen’s hair?”

“Blonde.”

“Is she a natural blonde?”

“Objection. Counsel stipulates that Ms. Isseksen is currently blonde. There has been no prior testimony regarding hair color and I again ask relevance.”

“This one would seem obvious, Mr. Shapiro. Overruled, Mr. Johnson, but I expect to see some relevance to this overall line of questioning very quickly.”

“Thank you your Honor, but now that opposing counsel has stipulated that Dr. Isseksen is blonde, the question is unnecessary.” Turning back to the witness, Charlie Johnson, senior partner in Johnson, Johnson, Whett and Wilde, continued.

“Mr. Walton, did Mr. Brodsky tell many blonde jokes?”

“That’s mostly all he told.”

“Just a ‘yes’ or ‘no’ please.”

“Yes. He told a lot of blonde jokes.”

“Did he tell those jokes at other times in Dr. Isseksen’s presence?”

“Yes sir.”

“Did he tell blonde jokes when Dr. Isseksen was not around?”

“Not that I recall.”

“Can you tell me another time when he told a blonde joke in your presence, but not in Dr. Isseksen’s presence?”

“I can’t recall.”

“You can’t recall? Did he or didn’t he?”

“I’m not...I don’t think so.”

“Did Mr. Brodsky tell other jokes, beside blonde jokes?”

“Yes.”

“Did he tell any other jokes besides blonde jokes in Dr. Isseksen’s presence?”

“N...no.”

“So Mr. Brodsky only told blonde jokes around Dr. Isseksen. Is that correct?”

“As far as I know.”

“What was Dr. Isseksen’s opinion of the blonde jokes?”

“At first she took them with good grace.”

“But?”

“But after a while then began to annoy her.”

“Did she tell Mr. Brodsky that she was annoyed?”

“Yes sir.”

“When was that, Mr. Walton?”

“About two weeks after Dr. Isseksen arrived. About two years ago.”

“Where did it happen?”

“In the lab.”

“Were you present during that conversation between Dr. Isseksen and Mr. Brodsky?”

“Yes.”

“Was any one else present?”

“Dick Baldwin, the other lab assistant.”

“And what was Mr. Brodsky’s response?”

“He laughed and told her she must be joking. Then he said that if she wasn’t joking she was being thin skinned. Then, he told another one.”

“Another blonde joke?”

“Yes.”

“Was it your opinion that Dr. Isseksen was joking?”

“No sir. She was quite emphatic.”

“Was she being ‘thin skinned’?”

“Objection! Counsel is asking for opinion, not fact. Additionally, he has not demonstrated that this witness is in any way competent to offer a professional opinion in this area.”

“Your honor, I’m asking Mr. Walton for his personal opinion. He is the best person available to offer such an opinion.”

“But your honor, counsel is asking for an opinion regarding someone else’s opinion and as such it’s inadmissible.”

“Reword your question Mr. Johnson.”

“Yes, your honor. Mr. Walton. Was it your opinion that Dr. Isseksen was being thin skinned?”

“No.”

“What is the basis for that opinion?”

“Because they had begun to bother me too.”

“Did you say anything to Mr. Brodsky?”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Why not, Mr. Walton? If it bothered you, why didn’t you say anything to him?”

“Because I had no idea how to tell the man who hired me, and could fire me, that he was being an ass.”

“Your honor,” the attorney for Brodsky Holdings was again on his feet. “I ask that such scurrilous language be stricken from the record.”

“Clerk, remove Mr. Walton’s answer from the record. Mr. Johnson, I suggest you ask the witness to reword his answer.”

“Yes, your honor. Mr. Walton, were you afraid that you would lose your job if you told Mr. Brodsky that he was acting in an insensitive and harassing manner?”

“Your honor. No one has established anything here except that Mr. Brodsky told a few off color jokes, certainly no one has implied that Mr. Brodsky has done anything as inflammatory as Mr. Johnson is alleging.”

“Sustained, Mr. Johnson. That will be one hundred dollars. I warned you. If this continues you can soon expect to be looking forward to some personal time in one of our fine penal establishments.

 

Blonde Joke Chapter Thirteen by Jeffrey M. Mahr   What does a blonde think an innuendo is? An Italian suppository.

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“Ms. Smalling?”

Holding down the button on her intercom, Ms. Smalling responded, “Yes, Mr. Brodsky?”

“When my son…er, daughter arrives, show her in immediately.”

“Yes, sir.” Sandra was too good an administrative assistant to ask questions, but she couldn’t wait to meet the woman that Mr. Brodsky was describing as his daughter. She had checked thoroughly after the incident with the photograph. Brodsky Holdings had very good investigators at its disposal. If they could find no record of a daughter, Sandra was fairly certain that one did not exist. Hopefully, Franklin was not planning to extend his amorous adventures to the office. This was her domain. If anyone was going to be close to Franklin Brodsky, at least at the office, it was going to be her, not some blonde bimbo.

When the woman finally appeared it was Dr. Isseksen and Sandra was totally confused. Was she coming to offer Franklin a deal? It didn’t seem likely; the buzz was that she was winning on the legal front. Maybe she had come to gloat? That didn’t seem likely either as all evidence was that she was scrupulously honest.

Sandra had thought she couldn’t possibly be any more confused, but then Franklin Brodsky came out of his office with a huge smile, hugged the woman, and nearly dragged her into his office as he offered the happiest light banter that Sandra had heard from him in ages. The final straw was when Mr. Brodsky stopped just before closing the door, turned to his secretary and said, “Take the rest of the day off, Sandra.”

It was as if her boss was Scrooge and had just been visited by the three ghosts of Christmas.

“I tell you it doesn’t make sense, Neil.”

Instead of taking the last hour of the day off, Mrs. Smalling had gone directly to the Office of the company’s Chief of Security. It was a small office in a back corner of the basement, but with a surprising number of books. Neil Stevens was a surprisingly well-read man.

“Nothing’s made much sense since Tom Brodsky disappeared,” Neil noted. “Do you think he’s finally gone off the deep end?”

“No,” Sandra responded thoughtfully. “If anything, he’s actually a bit more involved in day-to-day operations since then. Except for GTI, he’s as sharp as ever. My best guess is that he’s got some scheme going, but I can’t even begin to guess what it is.”

“Great,” the Security Chief grumbled. “If you don’t know and I don’t know, it’s got to be illegal. If he’s not careful, the old goat is going to destroy this company yet.

“Have I mentioned that Dr. Isseksen, or whoever she really is, is living at White Wood?”

“What?”

“Uh-Huh,” Stevens continued. “She’s been there since a few days after we started distributing that photograph of Dr. Isseksen. Some sleazy private detective named Tennent brought her in.”

“Yes,” Sandra gave a small involuntary shudder as she recalled the man. “I remember meeting him. What an unpleasant man.”

“More so than you think,” Stevens agreed. “He’s not really a detective. He’s a bouncer at some ‘gentleman’s club’ downtown called the Cravat. Now, to add even more confusion to the mix, Dr. Isseksen’s sister works there.”

“Doing what? Stripping?” Sandra just couldn’t resist being a bit catty.

“As a matter of fact, yes, she is.”

Sandra just rolled her eyes and bit her tongue, hoping that if she remained silent he would continue.

“And her sister is working there too,” Neil said with a smile as he paused, waiting to see if he’d gotten another rise out of the “Ice Queen” as some called Brodsky’s secretary. When she remained silent, he continued, not wanting to anger her. Part of his desire to keep on her good side, was her position. As the boss’ secretary, she came closer to running Brodsky Enterprises than anyone–including Franklin Brodsky. Even more important to Neil was his unrequited love for the woman, not that he would admit that to anyone–including himself.

“Actually, Dr. Isseksen is working there too. Plus, the men who run the companies who are helping her are all members.”

“So Mr. Brodsky is pulling some kind of shenanigan after all,” Sandra wasn’t certain if she was relieved that her boss wasn’t going to let the company they’d both worked and sweated for go under or upset at yet another dirty trick. “What does he expect her to do, drop her lawsuit? She’s winning.”
“Well, it’s a bit more complicated than that,” the Security chief noted with a sigh. “You see, it seems that Dr. Isseksen is a twin after all, which is quite a surprise to her mother.

“There were times when both Dr. Isseksen and her twin were on stage at the same time.”

“So Mr. Brodsky is going to pay the twin to put Dr. Isseksen’s identity in question somehow?” It was looking to Sandra like it was once again going to be time for some kind of dirty trick. She was concentrating on how she could be a good secretary and still avoid doing anything illegal, so she almost missed Neil’s next comment.

“The second twin, the one her parents don’t know about, is named ‘Tommi.’”

“Huh? Tommi? You mean like Tommi…er, “Thomas Brodsky? That kind of Tommi?”

The Security Chief just nodded.

“But…but that means…”

“That means that we may know what happened to Brodsky’s missing son. But if that’s the case, it brings to the fore even more questions. Why don’t we get out of here,” Stevens gestured to his office, but implied the Brodsky building too, “and talk about this someplace private?”

“Hey, Dick?”

“Go to sleep, Harry.”

“I can’t. There’s too much street noise.”

“Then go watch television in the main cabin and let me sleep.”

“Dick?”

“You’re not going to let me sleep are you, Harry?”

“I’m going. I’m going to the main cabin. I’ll watch television until I go blind. Just answer me one question first.” The recreational vehicle creaked as Dick jumped down from his upper bunk and walked to the partition door.

Harry waited hopefully to see if Dick was going to leave him in peace. When his friend stood by the door without opening it, Harry groaned and rolled over and groaned. “So what’s the question already?”

“It’s a pretty simple one, at least on the face of it, but I’ve been going over and over it in my mind and I just can’t come up with a clear answer. I was kind of wondering if you could help…”

“The question,” Harry growled. “Either ask the damn question already or get out of here and let me sleep.”

“Sorry Harry. The question is, ‘Are we doing the right thing?’ You know, siding with Dr. Isseksen and all?”

“Harry thought for a moment and said, “Yes, of course. Now go watch television or something if you can’t sleep.”

Harry rolled over and pulled the covers over his head while he listened to hear what Dick was going to do. He could hear Dick shuffling about as if debating whether to say something, but finally turn and leave the bedroom. Wit a sigh of relief, Harry got comfortable and tried to get back to sleep. Unfortunately, Dick’s question kept running though his head. A few minutes later, Harry got out of bed and joined Dick in the main cabin.

Where the hell are we going to find someone who meets the old Bastard’s requirements this time?” Talker groused as Clyde drove, silent as always. “I mean hell, he wants a tall blonde with a great body and face that has a brain and doesn’t dress like a whore. But the reality is that it’s got to be a whore. Who else would put up with that ‘S and M’ shit he’s into?”

Clyde pulled up at their usual corner and shut off the limo as Talker continued to complain. As a cluster of prostitutes encircled the vehicle, he pointed to one.

“It’s got to be a blonde,” Talker objected as he opened the power window and turned away from Clyde to speak to the small crowd. “Hello ladies. Today we’re looking for a tall blonde interested in some extreme partying. Any takers?”

“If it’s a blonde you want, that can be arranged,” a short black woman in her mid-thirties called out while several others added their agreement.

“Sorry. No blacks,” Talker responded.

“What’s your problem? You prejudiced or something?

“Not me honey,” Talker responded with a lascivious leer that made his personal opinion completely clear. “But the old bastard I work for is a real piece of work. We need to find him a smart, stacked blonde, tall, about 20 to 25 years of age who likes things a bit rough.”

“You ain’t cops, are you, honey?” another girl called out while the black lady and several of her darker skinned friends faded away. You could tell from the way she swung her hips that she was in search of real men, not those wimps looking for something for someone else. “Cause if ya are and ya don’t admit it, it’s entrapment.”

“Definitely not cops. And you?”

“Just us chickens here sugar,” was the laughing reply.

“Good. We’ll remember that for when we're on our own dime. For now, anyone here know anyone who meets those specs?”

It was a matter of minutes and they were directed to another corner, three blocks away, and what appeared to be exactly what they were seeking. It was only a minute or two later that they were returning to White Wood with their catch.

“Wants his f-in’ daughter,” Clyde muttered as they passed through the gate and into the grounds of the estate.

At first, Talker was shocked. Clyde had spoken. Talker had always known he could, but it was so rare that whenever it did happen, it was like a miraculous event. Then, Talker thought about what his partner had said and realized he was right. It used to be the two guards would be sent out to find someone who looked like the old bastard’s dearly departed. Talker had always thought it was to punish her for leaving him, even after what had to be twenty years or more. This time, Daddy Dearest wanted to screw around with his own daughter. Talker glanced back at the window dividing them from the whore in back. Then glanced at Clyde and shuddered.

Clyde frowned and nodded in agreement.

It was going to be another long night. Franklin couldn’t sleep, so, as was his wont, he wandered about White Wood. For a while, he sat behind the huge leather-bound chair in his office and tried to work, but he kept finding himself distracted by thoughts, first of his wife and then of his son–now his daughter. The thoughts were not pleasant, which probably explained his inability to sleep.

He swiveled in his seat so that he could gaze up into Jacqueline’s portrait behind his desk. He missed her so much it hurt. She had died of undiagnosed breast cancer–undiagnosed because he had humored her fear of physicians and allowed her to put off examination after examination until it was almost too late. Then, the hospital killed her. Franklin’s response had been to throw himself even deeper into work, responding to his wife’s dying wish that he do all he could to prevent anyone else from so dying. It had kept him going and Brodsky Holdings Inc. had grown into the multibillion dollar company it now was, but Franklin had never moved beyond the feeling that her death was his fault.

Thomas had been raised by a succession of nannies and Renfrew, rarely seeing his father for birthdays, let alone the other significant events in his life. Yet, it was not a matter of disinterest. Franklin Brodsky cared very much for his only son. He just didn’t know how to show it.

Worse, was this new form for his son, this blonde reminder of the woman who was currently a rather large thorn in his side. Brodsky was having problems deciding how to respond. On the one hand, he was proud of his son’s accomplishments. On the other hand, he was disappointed that he had been caught so easily by Isseksen. His form reminded him of his beloved Jacqueline and thus hurt.

Eventually, he gave in to the inevitable, put the unread folder on his desk away and resumed his wandering, not really paying attention to where he went.

 

Blonde Joke Chapter Fourteen by Jeffrey M. Mahr   How can you keep a blonde occupied for hours? Give her a card that says, “Turn over,” on each side.

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“Where’s Kat? We’re on in ten minutes,” Maggie asked Karen as she leaned in to the dressing room mirror to touch up her stage makeup.

“She got a phone call about five minutes ago and left,” Karen briefly interrupted her application of lip gloss to answer. “Didn’t she tell you?”

“No,” Maggie responded petulantly. “She didn’t, and the stage is set up for a duo act.”

“Well, I guess I could do the duo with you,” Karen offered.

“Not unless we can change into matching outfits in less than five minutes. Then you’ll have another whole five minutes to learn the routine.”

“Oh, well if that’s the way you feel about it, maybe I shouldn’t bother to tell you that she left a note.”

“A note? What note? Where?”

“I don’t think I should tell you.”

“Karen, please. I apologize for being bitchy. I’m sorry. Now where’s the note? It might be important.”

“Oh, I was just pulling your leg, Maggie. There is no note.”

“Ooooooo, now who’s being bitchy?” Maggie huffed and turned to leave. “Now I need to find someone to cover for Kat and my set.”

“Oh, come back. I was joking,” Karen called after her as she picked up the note on her makeup stand and waved it in the air until Maggie grabbed it out of her hand.

Maggie quickly unfolded the note, read it, cursed, and dropped the note as she ran out of the dressing room, stopping only to grab a long coat. Confused, Maggie picked up the note a read it. Then, she too cursed and ran out of the dressing room.

Seeing the guard in the booth at the entry to the Gene Technology Incorporated campus, Maggie drove on past without even a directional signal to indicate she might have had an interest in turning in. Instead, she drove to a nearby shopping plaza with an all night supermarket and drugstore and parked there. It was after ten in the evening and all the other stores were closed, so there were plenty of spaces. Still, she picked a space in the more brightly lit area near the two open stores.

A light breeze tugged at her coat as she slid out of the car and Maggie struggled to keep it closed even if there was no one anyone around to see her costume beneath. Quickly glancing up, she noted that there were no stars. Clouds had begun creeping in to cover the sky as Maggie had driven from school to the Cravat after her afternoon classes. Now, they completely blotted out the moon and stars.

Leaving the car, Maggie began to trek back to GTI, walking toward the back of the plaza where it abutted the lab property. Here shoes made it to the end of the blacktop. The five-inch stiletto heels sunk in as soon as she reached the grass and stuck, tripping her and causing her to fall. It was a miracle that she avoided twisting an ankle or worse, but the grass stains on the coat would probably never completely come out.

Removing the heels, Maggie continued at a slower pace. The tights only lasted half way to the lab, but at least in was a walk in the grass. Coming to a set of double doors on the opposite side of the building from the parking lot, Maggie followed the instructions from the note and knocked on the door. When nothing happened, she knocked a second time, harder. Finally, the door opened showing a long dimly lit hallway with only every third and Harry stood just inside. He and Dick had not been the most helpful witnesses, but they had put a few dents in the positions of Brodsky’s attorneys. More importantly, they had asked Kat a bunch of strange questions and then gone into hiding after their testimony was completed.

“Harry! What are you doing here?”

“Hi, Maggie. It’s a long story. Why don’t you come in and we can explain?”

“We?”

“Uh, yeah…” Before he could continue Dick popped up from behind the door, scaring Maggie and making her jump.

“Hi. I’m the ‘we,’ or at least part of it. Oh, I’m sorry, Maggie. I didn’t mean to scare you. Why don’t you come in so we can get comfortable and, like Harry said, explain?” Without waiting for an answer, Dick quickly circled around behind Harry and then walked out to Maggie. Taking her hand, he gently placed his other hand behind her back and began to lead her into the building. Maggie was inside and walking down the dimly light hallway with Harry trailing like a puppy dog before she realized he had said, “at least part of it.”

“Who else is here?” Maggie demanded, stopping in her tracks, spreading her feet and placing her hands on her hips to give a clear message that she wasn’t going anywhere until she got some answers. It worked for all of two seconds, until Harry bumped into her and the both fell to the floor.

Apologizing profusely, Harry scrambled to help the young woman back to her feet, almost yanking her off the floor in his eagerness and then brushing at her jacket to attempt to brush off any dust from the floor until Maggie started swatting his exploring hands away. In the process she had been turned around to face back to the entry door, but once she had stopped Harry from “helping” she turned to angrily face Dick, who had been laughing at the entire incident.

“That will be just about enough out of you,” she said with a scowl. “I’m here because I got a note from Kat to come here and talk to you. But unless I start getting some answers, and quickly, I’m gone.”

Maggie waited for about five seconds and then turned back to the door to leave.

“That won’t be necessary, Ms. Isseksen,” came over a loudspeaker. On cue, two huge men carrying guns stepped out of a room between Maggie and the exit. The black one said nothing and just stood still looking menacing. The white one spoke politely and smiled, at least with his mouth, but his eyes were cold and he gestured with his gun to emphasize his words. “Please follow the gentleman. Someone wishes to speak to you.”

It took a few seconds, but Maggie closed her mouth, cutting off the stream of angry words that struggled to escape. With a loud hiss of anger, she slowly followed Dick down the hall, into an elevator and down yet another hall, this time in the basement or sub-basement. After several turns, they finally stopped at a huge door that looked more like an entrance to a bank vault than an office. With a sheepish look, Dick, pushed a speaker button and said, “We’re here, Mr. Brodsky.”

Hearing Brodsky’s name was the final straw. Guns or not, Maggie bolted.

She got two steps before the black man, moving faster than Maggie would have thought possible, lunged and grabbed her arm with a vice-like grip and yanked her back. Before she realized it, he had her over his shoulder in a grip she couldn’t break. Her attempts to kick and hit, limited as they were by his tight grip, had no impact as he carried her into the room and then dropped her unceremoniously onto a bed.

“Thank you for coming, Ms. Isseksen,” said a smiling Franklin Brodsky from a lab stool near the center of the room. Dick and Harry, heads down in embarrassment, stood at a lab table behind him. Brodsky nodded to the guards, who left, closing the door behind them. Brodsky seemed to be in no rush to begin the conversation and Maggie was more than happy to just glare at the older man while carefully scanning the room for anything that might serve as an advantage. It was clear to Maggie that nothing good was likely to come from this situation.

Several minutes later, the door opened yet again and two more women entered the room, blonde twins. The first one saw Maggie and rushed over to her, hugging her and whispering how sorry she was to have gotten Maggie into this mess. The second smiled and strode purposefully over to the lab table where she stood behind Brodsky and placed a hand confidently on his shoulder before turning to face the two women by the bed.

“I always wondered whose side you were really on Tommi. I guess we know now, don’t we?” Maggie snarled in disgust. She was so angry her hands kept clenching into claws as she promised herself that she would personally use those nails on Tommi’s face the first chance she got.

“Now that everyone is present,” Brodsky said, ignoring Maggie’s outburst and speaking in a tone of voice more appropriate to commenting on the weather rather than presiding over a dual kidnapping, “we can begin.”

“Begin nothing you son of a bitch. Open that door and let us out this minute,” Maggie demanded.

“Really, Ms. Isseksen, for a person who’s just completing a doctorate in psychology you seem remarkably unable to assess the situation. With a sigh and a roll of the eyes as if to question whatever god he might believe in regarding the quality of recent Ph.D. candidates he continued. To state the obvious, the two of you are locked in a room from which you cannot escape. The only way out is if someone from outside this room opens that door. The people outside the door are loyal to me. In the room you are outnumbered two to one by people loyal to me. Don’t you think it might be prudent to find out what I want?

“Well, when you put it that way,” Maggie replied sweetly, “no! Absolutely not! I’ll see you in hell before I listen to anything that you might have to say. I’ll…”

“Enough!” Brodsky still had not yelled, but the tone of command in his voice was comparable to that of a monarch speaking to an unruly subject and knowing that the subject must, immediately comply. And Maggie did. Biting her tongue in anger, and as much a response to Kat’s gentle hand drawing her back as Brodsky’s order, she sat back, hugging herself and waiting. Her rapidly tapping toe belied her calm exterior.

“I asked you all here to end the acrimony over ViTaGeSeM.”

“But why kidnap us when you could have called our lawyers and made a public settlement offer?”

“This is not the kind of offer that gets presented over a conference table. By the way, through a series of untraceable links, my attorneys have just arranged for the judge to win a one-month, all expense paid vacation that must begin immediately, before he can prepare a decision on our little disagreement. Similarly, your attorneys, employer and partners in this lawsuit have received a message saying you’re going to be out of contact for several weeks on a ski trip to celebrate the end of the trial. They may think you are all being premature, but they won’t bother to look for you until and unless you fail to return.

“So you intend to murder us? To “make us an offer we cannot refuse?” Don’t you think that’s a bit melodramatic?”

“Maybe. Why don’t you hear me out and decide for yourself?”

“As if you’ve given us a choice,” Maggie harrumphed.

“Exactly,” Brodsky said with a smile and a gesture to Dick and Harry, still standing behind him.

“While I was disappointed by their decision to assist your team with the trial, it seems I am still able to do business with them. These two have been most invaluable. On the table behind me are several injectors full of ViTaGeSeM. Each has been carefully modified to include the DNA of various people. Two contain the DNA of a pair of oriental twin prostitutes slated for deportation You and your sister can be those two deportees.” He paused for effect. Maggie just snarled.

“Two contain remarkably tiny ampoules with a small electronically controlled valve containing the same combination of DNA and ViTaGeSeM, designed not to open until I fail to send a routine signal to them for more than twenty-four hours.

“The next two are to permit Dick and Harry to obtain new identities. I believe Harry has chosen to be you Maggie while Dick has agreed to be Katrina.”

While horrified by the insanity of the scheme so far laid out, Maggie was actually shocked to hear the last. Glancing at the two men for confirmation, Dick just continued to look down, but Harry looked back at Maggie, staring her in the eye with… What? Was that a knowing look; pride, or some other secret message? Maggie was just too rattled by the thought of one of them becoming her to feel confident of what she was reading in the man’s eyes.

“The last injector is for Tommi here. We’ve spoken at great length since his transformation and we’ve come up with a solution that should please us both. It seems my son,” there was an undercurrent of ridicule in the word and he repeated himself. “My son has decided that, like the song, he ‘enjoys being a girl.’ As such he will have no value as the executive to run the family business after I eventually retire. I, on the other hand, tire of my current situation and have decided to settle down again. We both miss my darling wife and Tommi’s mother. The upshot of this is that she shall soon be my new wife and his mother.”

“You disgusting perverts! How could you?”

“Tut-tut! I expected better from someone trained to understand people. Remember ViTaGeSeM completely rewrites the genetic code. She will be a different person. Bedsides, this way she still inherits the family fortune. As Tommi, she is more your sister than my offspring and probate will be hard enough without adding to the problems. And you don’t really think I would give you an option to wrest control of Brodsky Enterprises from me or mine, do you?”

Speechless, Maggie just sat there with Kat hugging her and stared in disbelief at the mad man before her. Finally, she regained sufficient control to ask, “Why? Why go through all this? Our case wasn’t that good. You might have won. Probably could have won if you have your hooks in the judge trying the case. Why?”

“The simple answer is ‘because I can,” Brodsky answered smugly. “But you’ve been a worthy opponent and I am not completely heartless and like most movie villains–I have no doubt you paint me into that role regardless of its truth–there is a certain enjoyment derived from seeing the recognition of one’s victory on the face of your opponent. You deserve a better answer. I said I had been able to arrange for an unexpected vacation for the Judge, not that I had been able to place him in my pocket. I did, however, obtain the services of his law clerk. That fine, upstanding young man informs me that the Judge has decided that law and precedent favors you. As a result, you will win this case and the time needed to have the fool’s decision reversed in a higher court is long enough that any business advantage that comes from the discovery will be lost. I have arranged for the law clerk to delay preparation of the decision, but that is the best I have been able to do.
Brodsky got a far away look in his eye and he continued, speaking more to himself than to the others. “Maybe I should have allowed a jury trial, but no, there is no way a large, cold corporation could have swayed the average juror when the choice was to side with a bunch of pretty young faces.”

Shaking himself, Brodsky steeled his jaw and muttered, “I’m getting too soft for this. I need a vacation once this is over.” Then turning back to the two women on the bed, he continued as if nothing had happened. “So, now it is time for your decisions Doctors. Will you remain as you are and work for me, or shall we move directly to the Oriental whores?”

Maggie’s response was a stream of curses.

“I expected that answer,” Brodsky said with a sigh. “It’s what I would have said. Believe it or not, I had hoped for a different outcome. It will be a shame to waste two brilliant minds like yours.” Brodsky turned to Dick and Harry and nodded. “Would you please do the honors, Mr. Baldwin, Mr. Walton?”

With shaking hands, as if walking to the gallows rather than toward two people they had called friends for the past several months, Dick and Harry approached the two young women.

“I suppose you’ll call in those two gorillas if we struggle?” Kat asked.

Brodsky just nodded.

“Then give that injector to me. These two klutzes will miss our arms and hit our jugulars they’re shaking so much.” Kat held out her hand. When Harry failed to respond, she gently took the injector out of his hand. Examining it carefully, she asked Harry, “Are you sure these are the right one’s?”

Harry nodded. Brodsky just said, “I don’t care who gives the injections, just get on with it.”

“Kat! What do you think you’re doing?” Maggie asked in wonderment. Why are you helping that unspeakable bastard?”

“It’s okay, Maggie. Trust me. It will be okay,” she offered soothingly and gave the shot. Taking the second injector from Dick, she examined it carefully and then injected herself.

“Well, that went easier than I expected. Thank you." Brodsky waved a hand at the guards to open the door and they did.

Kat was suddenly feeling extremely groggy. It was had to see as everything seemed to be blurring, but she thought she saw Brodsky’s executive secretary standing in the doorway. As her eyes forced themselves shut, did she hear Brodsky say, “Mrs. Smalling, what are you doing here?” Did she stick an injector into his arm?

 

Blonde Joke Chapter Fifteen by Jeffrey M. Mahr   And, of course, the ultimate blonde joke is, “What’s black and blue and brunette?” A brunette that’s told one too many blonde jokes.

---

The party was in full swing at the Cravat. The club had been closed for this private party, although Kat, Maggie and her friends continued to dance sensuously on stage along with a couple of new girls. Finally, the set ended and Kat, a sheen of sweat covering her body and a huge grin on her face, strode over to a podium set up to one side of the stage while the other girls scampered over to the sole table in the room, located immediately in front of the stage, and giggled as they briefly played musical chairs with the laps of the men sitting there. The one woman already at the table laughed at their playful game and cheered them on. Finally, everyone was settled and Kat cleared her throat, moved the microphone close to her face and in her best, high pitched, breathy, bubbly, bimbo voice said, “Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny, a dumb blonde and a smart blonde are walking down the street. They all see a hundred dollar bill on the sidewalk. Which one picks up the money?”

Various suggestions came from the table, some were anatomically difficult to perform and a few were down right impossible. Kat laughed and held up a hand for quiet before answering. “The answer is supposed to be the ‘dumb blonde’ because the other three, Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny and the smart blonde are figments of the imagination.”

Kat suddenly became serious and her tone of voice changed to follow suit. “I stand here tonight and proudly say that we in this room are the proof that this is no longer correct. Harri, Ricki, please stand up for a moment.”

After some gentle wiggling to keep the man each was sitting on interested, they both stood up and giggled as they waited for Kat to continue. “Harry Walton, now Harri Walton, is now finishing off her doctoral dissertation in Microbiology. Harri, do you feel like a dumb blonde?”

“No Kat,” she answered with a breathy giggle and sat back down on Jack Webster’s lap.

“Dick Baldwin, now Ricki Baldwin, is also finishing a doctorate, but in Management. Same question.”

“Not at all Kat, but sometimes its fun to let people underestimate me,” she answered with a grin and returned to her warm seat on top of Archibald Goddard’s lap.

“Before I continue, I’d like to thank the man without whom this little shindig could never have come to be, the man who single handedly ended all the lawsuits related to ViTaGeSeM and the man wearing the most beautiful emerald green gown this evening. Let’s all give a warm round of applause for Franklin, now Jacqueline Brodsky.”

The woman in question blushed almost as bright a red as her hair, but gave Kat a double thumbs up and a wink as she sat there.

“It’s been one glorious year and I’ll bet my twin would like to bore us with a few hours of financial reports…”

“Not as long as Petey here is keeping my behind so wonderfully warm, I’m not,” Tommi yelled back while giving her bottom a little extra wiggle on Chang Wu’s lap.

“Good. Then you all know the real reason why we’re here, to celebrate the wedding of Franklin Brodsky, now Jacqueline Brodsky, and Sandra Smalling, now Franklin Brodsky. Do either of you love birds have anything to say?”

Jacqueline just shook her head and looked lovingly up at her man. Franklin gave his new wife a kiss that raised another chorus of cheers and then stood. “I’ve dreamed of this day for more than fifteen years and I intend to do everything I can to make this woman,” he stopped to lovingly caress her head and shoulder, “as happy as I possibly can.”

This brought yet another round of applause and Franklin began to sit, but then stood back up again and called for silence. “Of course,” he said with a wry smile, “I expected to be the one wearing white wedding dress, not a white tuxedo.”

Jacqueline slapped playfully at Franklin while the others cheered. And now, before the main event, one last announcement. As you all know, the new BioGenTec has gone public with an initial offering of 1.2 billion dollars. As the Board of Directors, I’m sure you will all be happy to hear that the offering sold out within the first hour and the stock, after opening at two dollars, closed at two hundred eighty seven.”

With that, Jacqueline and Franklin stood. Hand in hand they walked off into the middle of the now empty main room of the club while the lights slowly dimmed to black. In the darkness, Kat spoke out one last time. “Oh, and Maggie? Even in the darkness I can feel you glaring at me still and I again apologize for not telling you about the scam Tommi and I worked up. Please believe me when I swear to you in front of all these people that it was the hardest thing I’ve ever done and that it will never, ever happen again.”

At that point, a single spotlight faded in, showing a beautiful redheaded woman sitting at a small round table. Music began to well up. It was a waltz. A tall handsome man strode confidently into the light and held out a hand, inviting Jacqueline to dance. With a sigh of absolute contentment Jacqueline gracefully flowed into the man’s arms, Franklin Brodsky’s arms. The spotlight followed them as they danced and danced to the growing applause of those in the darkness around them.

Kat couldn't resist. It was such a picture perfect ending, she gave Maggie a hug and Maggie returned the hug with tears in her eyes. Then, still holding Kat, she slapped her.

Shocked, Kat turned to Maggie, who seemed to be blurring and moving away, yet somehow still holding Kat. Kat shook her head to clear the cobwebs from the champagne and realized that she was lying on her back rather than standing. Then, she realized that she was being held spread-eagled on a bed in a room she did not recognize. Again, trying to focus on Maggie's face, she realized that it was actually Tommi's face.

"What the hell is going on here? Let me up," Katrina demanded indignantly.

Tommi just smiled like a Cheshire Cat as another voice answered her.

"Did you have a nice nap, Dr. Isseksen?" Franklin Brodsky asked.

Sputtering in anger, Kat started to reiterate her demand to be released, but Brodsky just spoke over her. "I hope you enjoy the accommodations. You'll be here for a while, until Tommi here has been able to impersonate you well enough to successfully undermine your legal position. Then, we'll decide what to do with you and your sister more permanently. You're welcome to scream all you wish. Such behavior is common from my 'playmates,' so the staff will not be surprised or concerned, and besides they are much too loyal to their paychecks to release you without my personal authorization.

With that, Brodsky turned to leave followed by Tommi. At the door, he turned and said, "Oh, and don't worry about your younger sister. She's back home being the good little girl she needs to be to keep you safe. Next time, don't try to compete with your betters."

 

Blonde Joke Chapter Sixteen by Jeffrey M. Mahr   Did you hear about the blonde who thought she had a twin sister? She didn’t realize she was looking in the mirror.

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“Well, this is another fine mess you’ve gotten us into,” Tommi said as she watched Kat shower. One of the guards, the silent one, was just outside the bathroom door and the security on the windows was such that she’d never be able to escape via that route.

While Kat showered, Tommi stripped off her clothes and wrapped a towel around herself.

“So how much of what I remember was real and how much was drug-induced dream?” Kat asked.

“Sadly, reality ended at the point of the needle that knocked you out. It was a truly lovely dream, but no one but you and Maggie got injections. Daddy-dearest is still trying to take over the world with an initial sub-goal of destroying you and your friends. About the only good news was that he decided to release Maggie after realizing that I was right and that he didn’t have enough time to replace her too. Of course, he made her promise not to tell anyone, thus, no one is looking for any missing scientists.”

Kat quickly blow-dried her hair and did it in the style Tommi had been wearing. As she dressed herself in the clothes Tommi had been wearing, she asked, “Are you certain you want to do this?”

“Kat, this is not the time or place for me to explain my motivations. Will a simple ‘yes’ serve for now?”

“Sigh! I guess it will have to do, won’t it?” Kat replied as she hugged Tommi tightly to her.

“Don’t you dare start to cry,” Tommi whispered. “We don’t have time to redo your makeup. And the password is ‘persimmon’.” Don’t forget it.”

“Hey, Bud. This is a private club. Beat it!” The bouncer stopped them well before the front door to the Cravat. The tuxedo he wore looked like it would burst from the not too subtly hidden muscles beneath it and his face, while not bearing the traditional mashed nose and scars of a professional fighter, was mean enough to cause trepidation in those who dared to approach him.

“But we’re here to see Dr. Isseksen,” Harry blurted out.

“Oh, well, why didn’t you say so?” the bouncer asked magnanimously before snarling, “I said this is a private club. No one but members and their guests go in the front entrance. Try the staff entrance around the corner.”

Turning away from Dick and Harry, the bouncer opened the door for a couple of women.

“I’ll bet they’re members, Harry grumbled as Dick and he moved down a narrow alleyway to the side entrance.

“Why Harry,” Dick responded with the perkiest voice he could manage, which after dealing with Franklin Brodsky again, was not a lot. “Don’t you recognize Justice Bill Mattingly and Mayor George Wolfensen? Tsk, tsk. It must be time for you to recheck the prescription on your glasses.

“Can it, Dick! I’m really not in the mood. Brodsky has screwed us yet again. I’m amazed we even got away.”

“We didn’t. We both know that his goons could find us any time they wanted to. They as much as promised us as much.”

There was another bouncer at the staff entrance. If anything, he was bigger and meaner looking that the first one.

“Beat it. We don’t want none,” was his only response as he saw the two smaller men walking up to him.

Uh, oh, we’re not salesmen. We’re here to see Katrina Isseksen.”

“Dat’s nice. I said, ‘Beat it!’”

“No, you don’t understand. We have an appointment to see Dr. Katrina Isseksen in about ten minutes. If you ask her, she’ll confirm it.”

“You ain’t on da list.”

“Wait a minute, you didn’t even look.”

“Don’t gotta. Ain’t no one on da list tonight. Now move outta da way.” With that he slowly swung an arm wide, forcing them to quickly step back, just as a trio of ladies came up from behind them. The bouncer opened the door and allowed them to enter without a word.

“I suppose they were on the list?” Harry asked, fists balling up in frustration.

“Nope. There ain’t no one on da list.” The bouncer smirked down at the two men, daring them to do something, anything, but walk away.

“The hell with the list, have someone check with Dr. Isseksen. She’ll vouch for us.”

“Nope.”

“No? Why the hell not?” Seeing where this was going, Dick started trying to drag Harry away, but he was having nothing to do with it.

“Can’t leave da door. If I do, da wrong people could get in.”

“So don’t leave the damned door. Just call in to someone and have them check.”

“Nope.”

“And why can’t you do that?” Harry asked. His voice cold and flat he was so angry.

“'Cause I don’t wanna.” Dick would not have thought it possible, but the bouncer’s smirk actually got more pronounced as he shifted slightly onto the balls of his feet, anticipating that Harry would finally blow.

“That does it. I’m through playing games. We have an appointment and I’m going to keep it.” With that, Harry shook off Dick’s restraining arm and stepped toward the door. He didn’t finish the first step. A jab to the face dropped him to the ground with a broken and bleeding nose.

“You can’t keep me here indefinitely, you bastard.”

“Actually, yes I can,” Franklin Brodsky responded as he waved the guard out of his office at White Wood.

“How? Even you will have to let the police in if they have a search warrant.”

“Of course I would, my dear.” After all, I’m a law abiding citizen,” Brodsky responded with what seemed to be complete innocence, although that didn’t last another word. “Anyone coming here would find my daughter, Tommi, suffering from the horrid trickery of the evil Dr. Isseksen and under psychiatric care by a rather renowned physician of impeccable reputation. She would be sedated and unable to answer any questions, but then she’s signed over her power of attorney and has a health care proxy giving me full control of her treatment, so that shouldn’t be a problem.”

“But what about finger… Oh. Oh!” Dr. Isseksen was silent for several moments.

“’Alright, let’s try a different tack, why? What could you possibly gain from this? It can’t be money; you’ve already got more than some small countries. It can’t be power; I can’t count how many politicians you’ve got in your pocket, but it’s probably enough to get any single piece of legislation you want passed, despite what the rest of the country or even the rest of the world thinks. So, why?”

“You young folks,” the senior Brodsky laughed. “You’ve seen so many movies you expect everyone to act according to a formula. Why should I answer you? How do they say it, ‘If I did, then I’d have to kill you.’”

“Now who’s being melodramatic? I expect you to kill me when this is done. The only reason you’re keeping me alive now is as a hedge in case my clone needs some specialized information and if you’ve planned as well as you think, even that’s quite unlikely. That means I may be the only person in the world you can afford to unburden yourself to. I’m smart enough that I’ll understand. I despise you enough that I certainly won’t try to psychoanalyze you. Whatever is driving you must be eating a huge hole in you.”

Franklin Brodsky examined the woman in the chair across from him. She was quite astute in her observations and her speculations. Would he enjoy having her recognize his ingenuity? Did he even understand his own motivations? The reality was that there was only one way to find out, but he had not gotten where he had by jumping into things.

“I’ll think about it Dr. Isseksen. I’ll think about it.

“What do you mean ViTaGeSeM is a fake?” Jack Webster almost screamed. The rest of the Board of Directors just stared at Dr. Isseksen in shock.

“Just that. It doesn’t work. I pretended it did so I could get even with Tom Brodsky, who’s off on a ski holiday just like his office claims.”

“We saw Tommi. Who was she and where did he come from?”

“What does it matter? It was a hoax, a fraud, a scam.” Kat dropped to her seat and began to cry.”

“But what about the lawsuit? It’s already in the judge’s hands,” Archie asked.

“We can have our lawyers contact the judge’s law clerk. He can…”

“Thank you Dr. Isseksen,” Jack said coldly. “You can leave now. You’ve done more than enough. We’ll handle this from here.”

The rest sat in stony silence as Kat slowly stood and left the Board room.

“…and that’s what Talker’s report said happened,” Neil told Sandra.

“But that’s…”

“…at least two violations of criminal law, not to mention an unguessable number of civil laws and regulations,” Neil completed for her.

“My god. We can’t let this happen. Mr. Brodsky has always been willing to dance around the edge of the law, but this is so far over the edge it’s unbelievable.”

“The role of a Chief of Security is to protect his boss from harm.”

“You’re not going to say that what’s happening here is ‘acceptable’, Neil Stevens.” Sandra was aghast.

“Of course not. There may be those who feel protection from harm means falling on your sword for your boss no matter what, but Franklin Brodsky is only one of our bosses. We are also responsible to the Board of Directors, the stock holders and the rest of the company’s employees. Forgetting for a moment the illegality of what’s going on, think what this does to the company.”

“So what next?”

Neil took a deep cleansing breath before answering. “I think we need to talk to Katrina Isseksen.”

“But she’s at White Wood. How do we do that?”

“Leave that to me,” Neil said. “I’ll arrange it.”

Blonde Joke Chapter Seventeen by Jeffrey M. Mahr   What does a blonde owl say? What? What?

---

The ViTaGeSeM lawsuit was as good as won and his newly minted daughter was finally showing the spirit and ingenuity to be a viable successor. He especially enjoyed the blow-by-blow description of the meeting with Webster and the other major investors as she told them that Dr. Isseksen was a fraud and that ViTaGeSem didn’t work.

Franklin Brodsky was a happy man. He was so happy he took his first vacation in more than twenty years--no work for two weeks. It was his first vacation since he had gotten married and he reveled in it. But even if he was on vacation, Franklin Brodsky was a man of ingrained habits. He didn’t fly to the Rivera or let some exclusive spa pamper his palate with extravagant foods or his body with expensive “treatments.” He spent his vacation at home. The true measure of his happiness was that he had not instructed Renfrew--Brodsky briefly wondered what the man’s real name was; it had been so long that he had been calling him Renfrew--to get him any hookers. Of course, the presence of two very pretty women held captive in his home was certainly stimulating. Brodsky was taking great pleasure in slowly--ever so slowly--breaking them to his will.

Arriving at Dr. Isseksen’s room, Franklin acknowledged the guard, who quickly moved to unlock the door for him. Stepping inside, he waited to hear the door lock again before turning to his “guest.”

“Good evening, Doctor. How are you feeling today?”

Unsurprisingly, the woman’s face, already a study in frustration, subtly changed so that it also appeared that she was sucking on a lemon, a significant accomplishment considering the ball gag in her mouth. Having tried reason, pleas and threats when the gag had been removed in the past, this time she refused to even acknowledge his existence.

“Come, come my dear Doctor, surely we can retain some level of civility, even in this less than civil situation” Brodsky mockingly chided his captive. “After all, I have offered to release you if you give me your word that you will not attempt to escape.”

Lacking any other form of movement, Kat turned her head away.

“Very well, but as I’m sure you’re aware, you are a captive audience,” Brodsky chuckled a moment at that and then continued, “and I have no special need for a response from you.

“Allow me a moment to get comfortable,” Brodsky said as he moved to a delicate looking Queen Anne chair at the foot of the bed that gave him a particularly enjoyable view of his spread-eagled captive. With a self-satisfied sigh, he carefully slid his bulk into it and positioned himself for both comfort and view. Brodsky silently examined the naked woman before him for several moments before continuing.

“If this were some novel or movie, this would be the time when the villain, as I’m certain you must consider me, would reveal his diabolical plan. As a business man, I long ago learned the folly of giving even the most helpless appearing rival information that could compromise my goals, but luckily for you I’m feeling especially magnanimous tonight. Besides, it will add just a soupcon of zest to our later couplings, at least for me.

“You’ll be happy to hear that this morning you told your backers that ViTaGeSem is a fraud. They have decided to sue you for fraud. The paperwork should be filed in about two months. If any one else had said that ViTaGeSeM was a fraud, the investors would have had an impartial second party check it out, but not when the great Katrina Isseksen, creator of ViTaGeSeM, makes the allegation. They closed down your lab at BioTronics later the same day.

“I expect you to remain my guest at least until the case is resolved, which shouldn’t be long as you are not challenging any of their allegations or counter suing, rather obliging of you I must say. I’ll see if I can get someone to sneak a camera in on the day you throw yourself on the court’s mercy. It should be a rather poignant moment, well worth saving for posterity, don’t you think?”

A low growl escaped unbidden from the woman’s lips. Realizing that she had failed in her attempt to completely ignore her tormentor, she bit her lip in frustration. Brodsky, merely smiled, feeling assured that he would get everything he wanted through patient pressure, just like any other business deal. Comfortable with this first concession, it was time to rap up this meeting.

“Oh, my. What a poor host I’ve been. You must be tired. Rest now. We’ll talk more later,” Brodsky offered solicitously as he stood and walked out the door, but not before running his fingers gently up the uncovered, bound leg of the woman, stopping just short of her crotch.

Turning to the guard, he brusquely admonished, “Remember, no contact with anyone beyond food and closely supervised bathroom access, and absolutely no news whatsoever of anything going on outside of this house. Are we clear?”

The guard nodded, avoiding eye contact rather than allow his boss to see just how unhappy with the current turn of events. It was one thing to threaten a nosey PI or strong arm a prostitute or two, but this was kidnap, enforced imprisonment, and given the boss’ behavior with the whores, rape. The courts would not look favorably on anyone in the house if something went wrong. The guard decided then and there that it was time for Talker and him to reassess their future career plans. Watching Brodsky walk the short distance to the next bedroom door and the next guard and enter that room, presumably to repeat whatever he had done in the first room, did nothing to assuage the guard’s concerns.

The RV was hot and uncomfortable, but this was nothing compared to the tempers of the two men inside.

“Damn it, Harry! The bastard did it to us again. He manipulated us into helping him and then dropped us like hot steaming cow turds as soon as we had done what he wanted.”

“You’re absolutely right,” Harry responded with equal parts anger and frustration. “And the son of a bitch did it without even breaking a sweat. In fact, he didn’t even lie to us. I mean, think about it. He offered not to blacklist us if we helped get Dr. Isseksen into that building, which was more than those ladies were offering, although I can’t imagine it’s not as if he cares enough about either of us to go through the effort of blacklisting us.”

“Yeah, he even said as much as he kicked us out after his people had the women,” Dick stormed. “He left us with nothing and made us feel like fools to boot; although, to be fair, I guess we really have been fools, haven’t we?”

“Shut up, Dick. Don’t interfere with my pity party–not unless you’ve got a sure fire way to get us great paying new jobs and screw Brodsky to boot.”

“Well, actually, I think I might.”

“This better be really, really, really good, Dick. Anything less than fantastic and I’m going to beat the hell out of you for interrupting my mad.”

“Oh, I think you might like it. Listen up…”

“Gentlemen, we have a serious problem.” Dr. Isseksen’s shocked investors had retired to a private room at the Caveat in order to lick their wounds and plan for the future, such as it was.

“Jack, you do have a wonderful way of understating things, “Billy responded sarcastically.

“So what are our options?” Chang asked.

“I’m not sure we have any. We’ve got no product. We’ve got no product developer. We’ve agreed to sue the pants off Isseksen, but she has nowhere near the resources to recoup our losses, even if we bankrupt her, as is likely. On top of that, we still have Brodsky’s suit to contend with. All in all, I’d say we’re well screwed.”

“There Jack, you see, you can be blunt and to the point when you wish to be,” Billy mocked.

“Stop it, Billy. While I’m certain that recriminations make you feel better, as they do me, they don’t help at the moment,” was Chang’s comment. “Once again, what are our options?”

“I’m afraid we don’t have a lot,” Jack noted. “We could bluff our way through. We still have a decent chance of winning in court since Dr. Isseksen has already been questioned and cross examined. As long as no one decides to go for a redirect, there’s no additional harm that can arise from that end. The problem is, even if we do win, without a potential product it will be a hollow victory at best.”

“Does anyone have any idea of why Brodsky’s executive secretary and his chief of security want to talk to us?”

“Sorry Chang, all I know is what I passed on. His secretary called my secretary and asked for a meeting. They’re supposed to be here in about an hour. At the time I was anticipating a bit of gloating, but now I’m not even sure what advantage there would be to seeing them.”

“Does anyone see any other options?”

Billy and Archie shook their heads.

“Then, we’re agreed to cut our losses and shut this fiasco down as quickly as possible?”

There were grudging murmurs of agreement.

“Then, so…” Chang was interrupted by a knock on the door.

“Yes, what is it?”

“Excuse me,” the pretty redhead who stuck her head in the door said. “Security asked me to let you know that there are two men who want to speak to you. They said to say they were Dr. Isseksen’s lab assistants and that they might be able to help. Shall I have security chase them away?”

“Weren’t the girls talking about those two?” Archie asked.

“Yeah,” Jack answered. “I don’t remember them feeling too trusting of them. Anyone want to bother meeting with them?”

“Are you going to stick around and meet with Brodsky’s folks, Jack?”

“It would be easier than canceling at this late hour. Yeah, I guess so, although I’m planning on making it very brief.”

“Then let’s hear them out. We’ve got nothing to lose and no where to rush off to,” Archie suggested.

“Bring them in please,” Jack instructed the hostess. As she quickly disappeared, he turned to the others. “Do you folks want to stick around for this?”

“Sure, why not. Let’s get our drinks refreshed first, though,” was Archie’s answer. The other’s just nodded and held up their glasses.

“Look, Talker, I just want a few minutes with Dr. Isseksen. Is that going to kill you?”

“Sorry, Ms. Brodsky. Your father’s orders were very explicit.”

“Let’s consider this rationally, Talker,” the pretty blonde suggested. “If you’re calling me Ms. Brodsky, you know who I am. You also know that I am heir to this estate and have my father’s ear. Further, I’m sure you know that I’m a fairly savvy businessperson in my own right. That said, you know I’m not going to accept being refused. Either we’re going to find a way to let me in there or in the not to distant future you’re going to be dealing with my anger and disappointment. Now, let’s negotiate. Is there anything I can offer you to help you change your mind?” Tommi asked pointedly. At the same time, she pouted prettily and moved to within inches of the large security guard, letting her breasts gently touch his lower chest while she slowly rubbed a finger against his cheek.

Talker was remarkably uncomfortable with the situation already and this was not helping. If he let her in and old Brodsky found out, he was gone. If he didn’t let her in, Talker had no doubt that the beautiful young woman in front of him could make his life a living hell. His search for a solution was interrupted by a call from within.

“Guard! Guard! I need to go to the bathroom. Guard? Please…?”

“Uh, one moment miss. Let me get someone to help you,” Talker yelled back at the closed door.

“Don’t bother,” Tommi interrupted with a bright and eager smile. “I’ll do it.” Before he could react, she was sliding around him and opening the door. Tommi was inside before he could decide if this was good or bad and so he acquiesced to the situation and let things be. With a fatalistic shrug, Talker squared his shoulders and resumed his guard duties while hoping that no one would ever find out what had just happened.

His peace of mind was not eased when, about an hour later, Tommi exited the room. Over the years, Talker made it a habit to not stare at his bosses. It tended to make them uncomfortable, even when he was just trying to assure their safety, but this time he couldn’t help himself. It wasn’t just that Ms. Brodsky was a beautiful woman. Somehow, she seemed slimmer than when she had gone into the room. Talker watched her walk down the hallway to her room. Definitely, thinner. And did she stagger a bit, just before entering her bedroom? Talker couldn’t help but wonder what the hell she had been doing inside the room he was assigned to guard, but if it might help avoid jail time he was going to make certain that the woman in the room behind him was going to get the best care he could provide her.

Neil sat across the table from her in the small coffee shop they stopped at to review their understanding of what had happened at the meeting they had just left. Each stared down at his or her coffee cup without drinking. Finally, Sandra looked up dejectedly and asked, “Now what?”

“You didn’t think that went very well either, huh?”

“They basically said, ‘Thank you, but no thank you.’”

“Yeah, that’s how I took it too. Well, I can’t just do nothing. I guess I’ve got to move on to a more risky option.”

“You mean?”

“Yeah, I’ve got a friend–I was in the army with him–who works for the FBI. I guess I’ve got to go have lunch with him.”

“I’ll come with you,” Sandra said and sighed deeply.

“That’s not necessary. You’ve already done more than most would.

“Maybe not, but I want to,” Sandra insisted.

Neil smiled and reached his hand out to hold hers.

Blonde Joke Chapter Eighteen by Jeffrey M. Mahr   How can you tell if a Blonde has been working on a computer? White-Out ® on the screen.

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“We can absolutely guarantee that Dr. Isseksen’s process works,” an exasperated Dick Baldwin insisted as he looked around the frowning faces filling plush, leather appointed chairs around the oversized, over-polished hardwood table in the conference room at the Cravat. He could not understand why these men were ready to throw in the towel and more money than either Harry or he could imagine. “How could you possibly think otherwise?”

“When the inventor says it’s a crock, you tend to take her at her word,” Chang answered for the group.

“But that doesn’t make any sense,” Dick responded and threw up his hands in frustration.

“Yeah,” Harry chimed in.

“Did you chat with her when you worked together at GenTech? Did you compare notes about your families? Were you even aware of her younger sister?” Archie asked.

“No, not until we went to find Dr. Isseksen and Tom...er, Tommi. They were at her sister Maggie’s apartment,” Harry acknowledged, albeit grudgingly.

“So how can you definitively claim that Tommi was not just a twin sister you never knew about and that this was not an elaborate con?” Jack asked.

“We were there,” Harry exclaimed. “We saw it work. We nursed Tom Brodsky through his change. I’ll bet that if you check birth records they’ll prove that Katrina Isseksen didn’t have a twin sister. She certainly never spoke of one so I can’t understand why she would tell you people that Tommi was her twin sister rather than her physical clone.”

“Hell! We can prove it works,” Dick continued. “We have a small supply of ViTaGeSeM. We can make more. Then we could find a test subject and use it on them. We can prove it works,” he repeated again, as if saying it a second time would make it more believable.

“We’ve already been stung once,” Jack noted, “and in a rather costly manner.”

The other investors angrily murmured their agreement as Jack continued. “Why would we risk even further damages to both our reputations and our finances by considering what could only be unauthorized human testing?”

“Fine,” Harry’s frustration won out over reason. “We’ll take the ViTaGeSeM ourselves. We’ll sign legally binding statements indicating that we are dong this against your advise and consent and that you are merely providing a biologically secure environment to prevent any risk of contamination. That will also allow you to monitor and confirm that we actually change. Will that make you reconsider?”

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw Dick staring at him in shock and Harry realized he had once again allowed his anger to speak for him.

The investors looked at each other questioningly. There was little risk to them from such an action. It would still take time to process their legal actions. A month or two delay, if it even came to that, would not make much difference and if the process really did work, then they were back in the game. Still, not one of them was willing to jump without even more careful consideration given the events to date. Finally, Jack, still speaking for the group, said, “Leave us your cards. We’ll get back to you and thank you for your time, but right now we have another appointment.”

With slumped shoulders, Dick and Harry marched slowly out of the room, passing two people on the way in to the meeting room at the Cravat, a familiar looking woman and the man accompanying her. When the door closed, Dick turned to Harry and asked, “Did that woman look familiar to you?”

“Yeah, I think we know her too. Wasn’t she the secretary that let us into Brodsky’s office?”
“Oh, shit!’ Dick groaned. “We are so screwed.”

The folks at the Cravat had surprisingly agreed to let Harry and Dick make some more ViTaGeSeM, but it was downright boring sitting in the lab at GenTech were this had all started and staring at the incubator as it cooked up more lots of ViTaGeSeM. At least Harry had brought some magazines to read once they had caught up on the backlog of professional journals in their mail boxes–that is if you could call the soft porn he was perusing "magazines." Pacing helped for a while. Then Dick moved on to cleaning out the refrigerators, then the counters, and finally the walls. It was while clearing off the excess on the lab bulletin board that he saw it, yet another of the ubiquitous blonde jokes from Tom Brodsky.

Harry became concerned enough to ask when he glanced up from his “article” for the second time and noted that Dick hadn’t moved in quite a while. He was standing there, back to Harry, hands at his sides and staring at something on the bulletin board.

“Hey, Dick. Are you all right?”

No answer.

“Dick? Dick! DICK!”

“Huh? What? Oh, Harry,” he finally answered bemusedly.

Suddenly, wary, Harry said, “Okay, Dick. What’s percolating inside that little mind of yours?”

“Nah, forget it, Harry. It’s too crazy.”

“Okay.” Harry returned to his magazine, wondering what Miss October’s favorite turn on would be.

“Harry?”

Harry grunted. It was chocolate ice cream. What a shock.

“Harry?”

Studiously ignoring the intrusion into his contemplations, Harry read further to find out that her biggest turn off was liverwurst and recognized the bond of similar likes and dislikes. Harry was please to see they had so much in common.

“Harry?”

With a sigh, Harry placed his magazine on the counter top. “What, Dick? You’re not going to leave me be until you tell me are you?”

“I have a really, really weird idea, Harry old pal.”

Harry groaned and bit his lip. This was going to be even worse than usual.

“I was reading the items of the bulletin board…”

“And I was reading this magazine. How about we go back to what we were doing and we’ll both be happy?”

“Oh, I think I can make you happy, Harry. I think I’ve figured out a way out of our little problem.”

“Why am I suddenly feeling intense dread? You’re not going to stop until you’ve got whatever is bottled up inside you out, are you?”

“Nope, but I really do think you’ll like this idea. It’s so out in left field no one would ever expect it, yet I think it would work. Really work.

“So tell me already. Just speed it up. Miss October is waiting,” Harry grumped.

“I’ll do my best, but this is weird enough that I’ve got to build up to it.”

“Fine, fine, just do it already.”

“Okay. As I was saying, I was reading the items on the bulletin board…” Dick stopped to see if Harry was going to interrupt again. When he just growled, Dick continued.

“One of the items was another one of those blonde jokes from Tom Brodsky.”

“Yeah, you’ve got to admit, his getting stuck with that injector full of ViTaGeSeM was a wonderful example of heavenly retribution. Tell blonde jokes–become a blonde joke.”

“True, Harry, except she isn’t really a joke is she?”

“No,” Harry admitted, “she isn’t. That brain in that body should scare the hell out of any male within three counties.”

“Exactly. Now our problem is that we have no futures. Old Man Brodsky has seen to that.”

“True. No jobs in the fields for which we’ve trained unless we do marginally legal things like the preparation of biologicals without authorization we’re doing now.”

“Marginally,” Dick snorted. “This is out and out illegal and we both know it. Anyway, back to my idea. Instead of just cooking up another batch of ViTaGeSeM like we’re doing, we need to do something that more permanently helps us.”

“Agreed. What do you have in mind already?” Harry didn’t know where Dick was going yet, but from the amount of hemming and hawing being done, he was certain he was not going to like it.

“Did you notice that I also cleaned up the refrigerator?”

“Yeah, you’re a regular maid service. Come on, Dick. Get to the point already so I can say no and we can get back to doing something more functional, like reading magazines.”

“Okay, but that means doing it the hard way and wearing you down afterwards.”

Harry just sighed, and reached for his magazine.

“We need to inject ourselves with the sample of ViTaGeSeM in the refrigerator,” Dick rushed to get the words out. “That way, we prove that the stuff works without the extra delay of finding some poor sucker to act as a guinea pig AND we end up with completely new identities, one’s Brodsky would never think to for when he gets around to killing us.”

Harry’s hand stopped mid grasp. Dick could see his eyes glazing over as he processed what had he had been told. Almost thirty seconds later, Harry dropped his hand without picking up his magazine and turned to Dick. His only response was “No,” but it was not the firm, clear, decisive answer Dick had expected. With a sigh of his own, Dick began the arduous, step-by-step process of justifying the logic behind what he readily agreed was the strangest idea he had ever had.

This whore was a good one, she screamed with a shrill sound that almost made him feel for the bitch. Franklin struck her with the crop and savored her pain. Spread-eagled, face down on the bed with her hands and feet cuffed, she writhed in agony, tossing her hips and her blonde hair erotically as she struggled unsuccessfully to avoid the next blow and the next…

The red marks from the earliest blows were turning into welts. Dropping his boxer shorts, Franklin was stiff and ready. It was time to mount her; to show the lowly whore her place, but then she began to laugh. It was a deep hearty laugh, a laugh at his expense, a disrespectful laugh, a distain-filled laugh. Brodsky hated it.

Forgetting his under shorts, he instead began beating the woman harder, flailing about with the whip so that it struck every part of her fully exposed body. Red marks shown everywhere, and more than half his strikes were hard enough to tear gouges in the skin so that the red stains of blood mixed with the marks creating a patchwork theme of color that would be applauded by the greatest of abstractionist artists. Yet the laughter continued.

Striking even harder, the skin parted and segments of blinding white bone began to appear amidst the variegated reds. Still the laughter continued. Exhausted from his efforts, Brodsky finally stopped. He slumped to his chair, eyes closed, tired beyond imagining, fighting for air in huge ragged gasps. Still, the laughter continued–a counterpoint to his struggling breaths.

Finally, just as Brodsky had recovered enough to continue, the laughter stopped. Raising his head, Brodsky was amazed to see that she was whole. There was not a mark on her, her hair, now red, was perfectly coiffed and she was dressed in the same blouse from that dance floor ages ago.

Jacqueline, his beloved Jacqueline, stared up at him with tear filled eyes, eyes that bore into him, further and further until they burned his very soul. Her ruby red lips parted and she asked one word, the same word that she’d been asking him each time he’d had this same dream. “Why?”

With a scream loud enough to again be heard in the servants’ quarters, Franklin Brodsky lurched into a sitting position on his bed, icy cold sweat running from his body as he furiously fought to answer his dead wife’s question. But he still didn’t know what he needed to answer her and end the dreams. Why “what?” Why did he let her die? Why was he beating her…the prostitute…her? Why was he so filled with hate? Why did he have to be so ruthless? Why was he still alive? Why had he never found anyone else? Over the years some of the best psychiatrists his money could buy had helped him answer most of those “whys,” but not one could get rid of the dream; he refused to call it a nightmare as long as his beloved Jacqueline was part of it.

Struggling to regain his composure, Franklin crawled out of bed and staggered shakily into the bathroom. After washing his face with cold water, he stood before the sink and stared blankly at his image in the mirror. An old man stared back at him, a fit old man with a fairly small potbelly, but none-the-less an old man, with white hair rapidly receding into classic male pattern baldness and bags under his eyes.

“Why?” he muttered at the image in the mirror. As usual, there was no answer. With slumped shoulders, Franklin Brodsky turned to the closet that held his wife's clothes and gently rubbed one of her dresses as he sniffed the faint trace of perfume still lingering after all these years before trudging wearily off to his home office. It was too early to start his day and head off to the corporate offices, but there was no way he was going to be able to get to sleep again.

It was just like old times. Franklin Brodsky sat comfortably ensconced in his oversized, black leather executive chair, feet up on his oversized, spotless, dark teakwood desk in his office at White Wood, while his child stood before him, waiting patiently for him to impart a few gems of wisdom. Well, there were a few changes. Admittedly, Franklin was older, about twenty-five years older, and his hair was thinner and greyer. Also, his son, and heir, was now wearing designer dresses and wore her long, blonde hair in an admittedly fetching style. Still, it was a moment of triumph and he was enjoying it. He had even had a bottle of champagne brought in by Renfrew and made his daughter open it before regaling him, yet again with the story.

“So, I gather that the meeting with Isseksen’s investors when well,” he prompted, looking for yet another telling of the tale.

“Yes, father. For the fifth time, I went there and pretended to be Dr. Isseksen as you instructed. As Isseksen, I told them I was a fraud and that ViTaGeSeM was a trick to try to convince the old me, Tom Brodsky, that I had made a break-through and that he should allow me, as Isseksen, to keep my job.”

“Tommi, Tommi, Tommi. Savor the moment. Business is war and clear victories all too infrequent.”

“Victory? Don’t you mean deceit?”

“In World War Two the U.S. government had a whole unit assigned to sending out misleading information. The CIA employs spies. Businesses such as General Motors have intentionally hidden the appearance of new vehicles being road tested to confound their competitors. Microsoft has published news releases indicating new software will have specific features not even being considered for the sole purpose of scaring away competitors. Deceit, as you call it is a normal part of business.”

“I can see that nothing is going to change your mind. Pardon me while I check on Dr. Isseksen,” the woman stood and smoothed her dress before storming out. At the door, she turned for a lasts parting shot, but instead asked, “Can I tell her she is being released yet?”

“Why do I feel I’ve taught you nothing?” Franklin Brodsky sighed. “Of course not. She is not to be released until all the loose ends have played out. This was a decisive battle, hopefully the turning point in the war, but until the war is won, she stays where she is.”

The elder Brodsky stared up at the ceiling for a moment, then turned hic chair to allow him to look at Jacqueline’s portrait. After a moment, he sighed and said, “he was always more your son than mine, eh Jacqueline? And this change has made it even more obvious. Why couldn’t you see how I needed to be strong for the business to survive? Why can’t she?”

Another sigh and he turned back to the desk. Pulling some papers from the middle drawer, he began reading. Between pages, he savored the champagne, a sip at a time.

“How’s the summation of the various precedents coming, Oscar?” Judge Harry Rothstein asked as he walked out of his office into the common area shared by his law clerk and his secretary.

Oscar Blakelee looked up from his computer monitor and stared blankly at the Judge.

“Uh…oh, it’s done. I was just working on the spelling and grammar before I send it to you.”

“Good. Send it to me as is. Oscar, have you noticed that you have been over the limit and losing hours of vacation for the last three months?”

“Come on, Oscar,” the Judge prompted. “You’re losing vacation time. Take some time off and have some fun. Visit relatives. Go to Disney World. Travel across Europe. I know you have the money. You don’t do anything.”

“But…”

“Oscar, you’re my law clerk, and a damned good one at that, but you’ve been pouring over this Brodsky case like your life depended upon it. I see a great future for you if you don’t burn out, but that’s what you’re going to do if you don’t take a break and I’ve done you no good whatsoever if I don’t teach you to relax as well as work.”

“He’s right,” the matronly woman chimed in from her desk after putting down the phone she had just answered. “You’ve been here when I arrived and when I left for months now.”

“See, even Janice knows you’ve been burning the midnight oil. How many weekends have you spent here?” Judge Rothstein waved his hand, not even letting him answer before continuing. “Too many, I’ll bet. Now I’m going to lunch and I want you to send me the Brodsky file and get out of here. Don’t come back for at least a week, longer if you want. I want you rested, okay?”

Rothstein gave Oscar a fatherly pat on the shoulder and headed out the door.

“He really is right, Oscar,” Janice said after the judge had left.

“I know, but I…”

“You don’t have to justify yourself to me, Oscar. I may just be the secretary here, but I know you’re a good man. The problem is you haven’t changed your shirt in three days, you’ve got bags under your eyes large enough to hold groceries and you’ve drunk six cups of coffee, just this morning. You really are wearing yourself out.”

The office was well lit, but austere, with nothing more than a beat up old desk and three chairs. Of course, there was the required picture of the current president on one wall and the other had a white board covered with boxes and scribbles.

“I hope you’re right about this, Agent Serdland.” Judge Rothstein was clearly not a happy man.
“We are, Your Honor. Our sources are highly reliable and our people have already confirmed the worm in your office computers. You understand that you and your staff are not targets in this investigation. We just wanted you to allow us to place one of our people in your office to misdirect the people who placed the worm until we’ve had the chance to send them information that will provide the evidence to entrap them.”

“Yes, yes, Agent Serdland. I understand. I’ve already prepared a document for your man to type into my Clerk’s computer. You will need to contact the Office of Court services to arrange for your man. That way, all the paperwork will match and even my secretary, Janice, will be out of the loop.”

Uh, actually, your Honor, we’ll provide the paperwork without going through that office. It means there is one less possible source from which there can be a leak.”

“Fine, fine. I dislike violating protocol, but do whatever you need. Just get this over with.”
“Yes, your Honor,” the agent stood to shake the Judge’s hand, but then stopped mid reach. “Uh, there is one more issue. It’s really one for you to consider, more than us.”

“I know. Do I recuse myself? I’ll discuss it with the Chief Justice of the Court once you tell me you’re done and let him decide. For now, just continue to honor my request and don’t tell me who it is you suspect so I don’t risk having it color my judgment.”

“Then, again, thank you, your Honor. We’ll move as quickly as we can to wrap this up and contact you as soon as it is.”

This time, they did shake hands.

The two identical blondes faced each other, one sitting on the edge of the bed, the other tied in a supine position on the bed.

“You were right. It is sadly clear that only force will change your father’s behavior. I guess there is no choice but to use that force against him.”

“And you were right too,” the tied down one responded. “He really is evil.”

“I’m so sorry, Tommi. I know it must be hard to find something like this out,” Katrina responded as she began to untie the bonds around Tommi’s arms. “Even now, he is refusing to let me be released.”

“Much as I hate to admit it, I’ve known for years. That’s one of the reasons why I devised this plan and took your place so you’d have the freedom to develop it. Is it done?”

“Yes, it’s done. I’ve got Dick and Harry watching over it as we produce it in quantity. My problem is not with the ViTaGeSeM. It’s with the plan. It just the plan seems so extreme. Are you sure about doing this, Tommi?”

“You just spent time with him this last week. Has he given in on anything? Has he shown an ounce of compassion, for anyone except himself? Do you believe there is anything that would convince him to change the path he’s taken? Do you want a world like he is planning, a world where he controls everyone’s ability to adjust their age, gender, health and appearance?”

“I have to admit I haven’t seen anything suggestive of a beating, bleeding, caring heart in his chest, but still I have concerns about you. All my projections are that a second major transformation, like what you’re proposing, only has a four percent chance of partial success and less than a one percent chance of complete success.”

“True,” Tommi agreed, albeit unwillingly. “But someone needs to do it, and who can we trust who knows enough to make the plan work?”

“I’m hoping you’ll be able to tell me. After all, you know the company and the people much better than I do. Regardless,” Katrina changed the subject with a shrug of the shoulder. “The hell with what Franklin Brodsky wants or thinks. How about we get you out of here?”

“There’s no way I’m ever going to allow anyone to tie me down again,” Tommi growled as she grabbed the cords dangling from Katrina’s hands and threw them against the far wall before picking up the table lamp beside the bed. “Stretch out on the bed for a moment. Then, let me get behind the door with this lamp and you can call Talker in.”

Blonde Joke Chapter Nineteen by Jeffrey M. Mahr   A one armed blonde is hanging from a tree. How can you make her fall? You wave at her.

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“Harry?”

“What, Dick””

This was the worst idea I’ve ever had.”

“You’re right.”

Both turned back to the wastebaskets by the foot of their beds and vomited yet again and both wondered why it had not occurred to the other that transitioning was going to be a painful process. The only good news was that it was more than half done and, if they could trust from the experience of Katrina Isseksen and Tom Brodsky, they would be asleep for the next two days until it ended. Both were fervently praying for the bliss of sleep.

“Maggie?” Karen sat on the side of Maggie’s bed while Barbie stood on the other. Both were clearly worried and upset.

“Come on, Maggie. You’ve got to talk to us. You’ve missed all your classes, were a no call, no show at work, and haven’t left your bedroom, except to go to the bathroom, all week.”

Maggie lay curled in a ball, even her head under the covers, crying and stubbornly refusing to answer.

Waiting for an answer, Karen gently rubbed what she was fairly certain was Maggie’s back through the bedspread.

Finally, there was a muffled, “Go away.”

“Not going to happen,” Karen answered.

“No way,” Barbie chimed in.

After several minutes of silent rubbing, there was a noticeable shudder from beneath the covers and a hollow-eyed face peaked out, squinting and blinking from the light.

Several ragged breathes later, she croaked, “It’s Kat.”

“What about Kat? Where is she? Why hasn’t she or Tommi been here in more than a month?” the questions rushed out as the worried roommates hugged Maggie, who was now sitting upright on the bed, but still crying.”

“Come on, Maggie. You’ve got to tell us what’s going on or we’ll have to go to the cops. I know we’ve said that before, but this time we mean it. It’s been way too long. Something’s clearly wrong. Something must have happened to them. Spill the beans, girl.”

“All right,” Maggie haltingly replied. “All right, I’ll tell you. Just don’t call the cops. Okay?”

William Henry Smith rocked back in his overstuffed red leather office chair. With the exception of the huge dark mahogany desk, the two now occupied chairs and the onyx tiled floor, the office was surprisingly sterile. The walls and the door were chrome and the window wall behind Smith’s desk gave a tremendous view of the city below since it was on the twenty-third floor of the First Manufacturer’s Trust building. The two women seated opposite him were quite beautiful despite wearing ill fitting jeans and oversized men’s shirts with barely combed hair and no makeup.

“Mr. Baldwin? Mr. Walton? Assuming those are your real names, you’ve presented me with an interesting video which purports to be your transition into duplicates of Dr. Isseksen and her twin, the alleged Ms. Brodsky, but given all the duplicity that has occurred to date, what reason should I have to believe that video was not created by some special effects wizard in order to further some complicated fraud?”

The two women looked at each other and shrugged. Finally, the one on the right, who had introduced herself as Harry Walton said, “I told you this was a bad idea, Dick. We should have had Mr. Smith and the others have a witness they trusted present during the transition.”

“Come on, Harry. I can’t think of everything and you didn’t suggest anything like that until we were more than half done.”

“Ladies? Please,” Smith interrupted. “I don’t have any more time for this. I only let you in because you had enough information about the ViTaGeSeM project to peak my curiosity. Why don’t you take this tale of yours to the other members of the group? Maybe they’ll be more accepting of your alleged evidence.”

“We’ve been to them. You were the last one,” the woman on the left responded dejectedly.

“Well, then if there is nothing else I can do for you, it’s been a pleasure to meet you.” Smith stood to escort them out the door.

“Wait. You were our last hope,” they both said at the same time. The one on the right continued, “Can’t you at least help us. We’re out of work and almost out of money. None of the others would pay what was promised for the production of the additional supplies of ViTaGeSeM.”

“That’s probably because you haven’t produced any yet, just come in here and wasted my time with your cock and bull story.” Smith’s polite façade was clearly wearing thin. “But, I’ll tell you what,” he added while rummaging through a drawer in his desk and producing a business card. He wrote an address on the back and handed the card to the woman who had spoken last. “Go to the address on this card and give them the card. I think they’ll be willing to offer you employment.”

With that, he gently but firmly escorted the two women out of his office where two security guards met them and immediately escorted them out of the building. It wasn’t until they were on the sidewalk outside the building that they had a moment to look at the card. On one side it said:

 

 

On the other it said:

 

 

The one holding the card cursed. “Shit! That son-of-a bitch gave us the address of the Cravat. Now what do we do?”

“Ready, Kat? They’ll be changing shifts in less than five minutes. Are you sure you know what to do?”

“I’m ready, Tommi. Let’s do this.”

One last hug and Kat hid behind the door while Tommi boldly strode out the bedroom door. The guard, looked up from his magazine, saw it was Mistress Brodsky and gave a nod and a smile, careful not to glance too long at her breasts.

Turning toward the guard, seated in a Queen Anne chair beside the door, she gave a cold glare and said, “Come with me a moment. I want you to help me with something.”

“Uh, I’m sorry, Mistress. I’ve been instructed not to leave this post, but if you’d like, my replacement will be here shortly and then I can help you.”

“Nonsense! The bitch is tied up and you know it. She’s not going anywhere, now come with me.”

“I’d rather wait just a few more minutes to be relieved, Mistress.”

“I said come with me, now!” The woman glared down at the seated man, impatiently tapping a high-heeled shoe again the oak wood flooring.

Grudgingly, knowing that this woman could make his life a living hell if he didn’t comply, the guard slowly stood up. “Yes, Ma’am. What was it you wanted moved?”

The woman instantly turned on her heel and strode purposefully away. The guard followed, but just as he was about to round the corner his replacement rounded the corner at the far end of the hallway and he called out to him, “Everything’s fine. I’ll be doing something for Mistress Brodsky.”

The arriving guard waved an acknowledgement and strode to the chair to get comfortable. Through the door, he could hear the muffled sounds of the Mistress yelling at her captive, but did nothing to intervene, knowing that it was better to be able to deny any knowledge of possibly illegal activities if things went sour.

A few minutes went by and he was comfortably perusing a Playboyâ„¢ when the door opened as the Mistress stormed out, slamming it closed behind her. Scowling, she turned on the seated guard and railed at him, “Why didn’t you bring it in to me? Where the hell is the…”

Stopping for just a moment she stared intently and said, “You’re not the one I sent. Where is that man?” Then, muttering imprecations, she stormed off in the same direction the guard had gone.

The new guard just kept muttered “plausible deniability” over and over to himself as he returned to his magazine.

 

Blonde Joke Chapter Twenty by Jeffrey M. Mahr   How many blondes does it take to play hide and seek? One.

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Having intentionally approached the ten stall garage at White Wood from a different direction than the one Katrina was to take Tommi waited, impatiently dangling the key, by the little yellow sports car she had decided they would take. In had to be only minutes, but it felt like hours before the side door between the garage and the main house opened. Tommi jumped and bit back a scream of surprise before confirming that it was Kat, who quickly ran to her side.

Kat was surprised when Tommi grabbed her and hugged her fiercely. She didn’t realize how tense she had been until she glanced at Tommi, saw she was crying, and realized there were tears dripping down her face too.

“Oh, damn,” Kat exclaimed. Tommi looked up, saw the tears and both broke into laughter.

“Now we’ve got to fix our makeup again,” Tommi observed as they released each other.

“What you mean we, paleface?” Kat responded with a thick accent as she pretended to be Tonto, the Lone Ranger’s faithful Indian sidekick. She was still feeling giddy from her successful escape. “I’ll be in the trunk. You’re the one who has to look pretty.”

“Gee, who’s the clown–I mean clone–now? What self-respecting female would leave the house without properly applied makeup, even if for the trunk of a car? What happens if some hunky policeman stops me, opens the trunk lid, and finds you?”

“I surrender. I surrender. Let’s both fix our makeup and get out of here,” Kat laughed.

Harry lay on his stomach on the bed at the back of the camper while Dick sat in the passenger seat, swiveled around to face her twin. All the blinds had been drawn so no one could see in, which was a good thing since they were both naked except for oversized bathrobes and the camper was parked on the street in front of Maggie, Karen and Barbie’s apartment, as they had no where to go and insufficient cash to buy the gas they would need to go anywhere anyway.

“Something tells me we didn’t think this through quite as well as we should have, Harry groused.

“Yah think?” was Dick’s only response.

“Well, yah. We don’t look the same which is good because Brodsky won’t be able find us and kill us, but we don’t have ID, we don’t have educational records, we don’t have jobs–hell, we don’t even have clothes.”

“Thank you, Miss Obvious. Why didn’t you raise any of these points when we were first deciding to do this?”

“Well, if you must know, Dicky Poo, it was a choice between Miss October and your rambling. Care to guess who won?”

“You decided to change genders because you wanted to stare at a really pretty pair of boobs?” Dick asked incredulously before bursting into laughter. “I sure hope you’re happy, Harry-ette. The perspective is different, but now you’ll never be far from a set just as good as those you were staring at.”

Harry’s immediate retort was cut off by a knock on the door of the RV. Both women jerked in surprise and Harry whispered, “Does anyone know we’re here?”

“Not that I know.”

“Should we open it?”

“I don’t know. What do you think?”

“Yeah, I guess. If nothing else, it will be a chance to see if anyone recognizes us.”

“Okay, so open it.”

“You open it.”

“No, you open it.”

“No, you…”

The door creaked and opened as Dick and Harry stared fearfully. When it was finally open, Karen stepped in, looked around and frowned before saying, “Excuse me. I was looking for Dick Baldwin and Harry Walton. Isn’t this their camper?”

“Uh, hi, Karen,” Dick said. Harry waved from the bed.

“I’m sorry. Do we know each other?” Karen asked, but then peered more carefully into the gloom to examine the two women before her. “Kat? Tommi? What the hell are you too doing here and why are you dressed like that? Maggie’s been worried sick about you both. Why didn’t you call? Where have you…”

“Uh, sorry, Karen. We’re not Kat and Tommi,” Dick interrupted. “I am–was–Dick Baldwin and the lump on the bed is–was–Harry Walton.”

“Yeah, sure,” Karen huffed. “I thought we were friends. What kind of scam are you pulling anyway?”

“No scam, Karen. Really,” Harry responded as he awkwardly rolled to the side of the bed, tied her bathrobe, and sat down on the edge closest to the door. “We…”

“Yeah, right,” Karen retorted angrily before Harry could finish. “Well, if you don’t want to talk to me, I’ll leave you two to whatever it is you’re doing.”

Karen moved, to back out of the RV, but before she could, Dick jumped up and grabbed her arm. “Please, Karen. Wait. Harry’s telling you the truth. At least listen. Please…”

“Two minutes. I’ll give you two minutes, but this had better be good.” Karen yanked her arm away from Dick and considered sitting at the small kitchen table between the bed and the driver’s seat, but instead decided to stand with her arms crossed, angrily tapping her foot.

“Open the gate please.”

“One moment, Mistress. I need to check the car.”

“Talker, I’m running late for a business meeting. I don’t have time for this right now.”

“I’m sorry, Mistress. Master’s orders.”

“Master’s orders? Who the hell do you think wants me at the damned meeting? Now get that gate open and let me through.”

When the man still hesitated, Tommi Brodsky’s face turned red with anger as she growled through clenched teeth. “Talker, open that gate right now.”

The guard took one look and opened the gate. The car roared through it before it was completely open. It was a miracle nothing was damaged.

The two blondes preened in front of the full length mirror on the back of Maggie’s bedroom door.

“Looking good, Dick.” The one on the right offered.

“Looking good, Harry,” was the reply from the one on the left.

Dick and Harry had matching white t-shirts and jeans with peds and white sneakers. Their hair had been washed and brushed to give a bit of body and curl. Makeup had been lightly, but dazzlingly applied.

Maggie, Karen and Barbie just lay back on the queen-sized bed, legs dangling off the sides and sighing in exhaustion. Any lingering doubts about the identities of the two blondes was extinguished as the three roommates had needed to explain, cajole, demand, and demonstrate, just about every part of the process of dressing them in other than the oversized bathrobes in which they had entered the apartment.

“So what do we call you?” Maggie finally asked, garnering enough energy to prop herself up on her elbows.

“I don’t know. I guess Dick or Richard is no longer appropriate. How a bout Rikki? It’s close enough that I’ll recognize that people are talking to me.”

“Well, I don’t ever want to be called Harriet. It’s a horrible name.”

“Hey, that was my aunt’s name,” Barbie blurted out and sat up.

“Sorry. I’m sure she was a wonderful woman. I just can’t handle the thought of being called Harriet.”

“Aw, don’t worry about it,” Karen said without moving. “Barbie hated the old harridan anyway.”

“True,” Barbie noted. “How about Hallie? Hope? Honey? Heather?”

“Hailey? Hanna? Heidi? Helen?” Karen offered.

“Hillary? Holly? Haden? Harmony?” Maggie added.

“Heda? Heloise? Hermione? Hildegard?” Rikki offered with twinkling eyes and a huge grin, quickly moving away from Harry before she could be hit.

“Actually,” Harry said after scowling at Rikki for a moment, “I kind of like Sydni, spelled S-Y-D-N-I.”

“Sydni?” Maggie asked. “Where’d that come from?”

“I’ve never mentioned it before, but my middle name is Sidney. I figured if I was going to be a new person, I could have a new variation of the name, so I had some fun with the spelling.”

“So where do we go from here, Sir?” Agent Serdland asked his boss.

“Summarize what we know again, Agent Serdland. I want to make certain I haven’t missed anything.”

“Yes Sir.

“We know that Franklin Brodsky has been using electronic bugs to illegally listen in on the personal conversations of the Federal Judge hearing the case of Isseksen v. Brodsky Holdings, Inc. and to track all the computer usage of the judge’s secretary and law clerk. We also have strong reason to believe that he has kidnapped Dr. Isseksen and replaced her with a double. Our information source also alleges that Dr. Isseksen is being held at Mr. Brodsky’s estate–White Wood it’s called.”

“And…”

“That’s all, Sir.”

“That’s what I thought I read,” the man behind the desk sighed. “You believe there has been a kidnapping, but there are no records to support the existence of one of the people alleged to be kidnapped and several well respected businessmen who have every reason to undercut Brodsky, yet provide testimony indicating that the other person alleged to be kidnapped is well and moving about freely in the community. You have evidence of illegal wiretapping and electronic surveillance, but nothing that clearly ties it to Brodsky. So far you have no evidence of Brodsky’s involvement, thus there’s no basis for a search warrant to search his estate or his office. I suggest you find some more evidence of wrong-doing or drop this investigation, Agent Serdland.

“Yes, Sir.”

Dejected, Serdland turned to exit the office, but his boss called out to him, “It’s not that bad, Agent. Go back to your sources. If they know as much as they seem to know, they should be able to provide something more tangible, something to finally clearly tie that old bastard Brodsky to wrongdoing. I’ve wanted to prove he’s crooked for years.”

Talker rode shotgun while the other guard drove. They had a mandate. Find Tommi Brodsky and Katrina Isseksen before they could talk to anyone. Their first stop had been the Cravat followed by phone calls to friends in the city police department. Next stop was the sister’s apartment. Just as they pulled into the block, the two missing women walked across the street to a beat up old camper and entered it. Talker sighed. Their jobs would be saved. This recovery would be easy.

The call came in as Agent Serdland was just leaving the FBI branch office to meet with his contacts again. Maggie Isseksen was frantic that two men had just grabbed two women who were exact duplicates of her sister and Tommi Brodsky. She was able to tell him exactly what color and style of car it was and most of the license plate. Truly this was a fluke, a chance, serendipity, but what the hell, sometimes that’s the only way to break a case. Serdland ran with it.

A quick check with the state’s motor vehicle department gave enough of a match that his boss agreed and sought a warrant. It also got them the good news that the vehicle in question was new enough to have a built in GPS unit. It took only five more minutes for his boss to be able to determine the ID code for the GPS unit and locate the vehicle, clearly on its way toward Brodsky’s estate. A second team was sent to meet Serdland at the entrance to White Wood. A bit of high speed driving and Serdland met the backup team at the entrance moments before the kidnapper’s vehicle arrived. There was just enough time to place Serdland’s vehicle in front of the gate, but set back from the road so it wouldn’t be seen until the kidnappers turned into the entrance to the estate.

The vehicle turned in as expected and the second vehicle pulled up behind it to block it in.

Everyone road back to the FBI office and Talker, true to his name, was very talkative. Agent Serdland was very pleased.

Blonde Joke Chapter Twenty-One by Jeffrey M. Mahr   Why do blondes smile during lightning storms? They think their pictures are being taken.

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Franklin Brodsky was furious. First, he was furious at his security staff. The incompetent fools had let Dr. Isseksen escape. Second, he was furious at Tommi. She had obviously gone against him and assisted Isseksen in her escape. Third, he was most furious at himself for allowing blood to win over intellect. That it was Isseksen blood rather than Brodsky blood just made it worse.

The good news was that he had anticipated the possibility of an escape, albeit not with help from his own family, and had taken care to insulate himself from the most serious allegations. If any one asked, as far as he was concerned, Dr. Isseksen was a willing guest of his son and he had never once publicly visited her to discover that she was bound and held against her will. To the best of his knowledge, no one but he knew of the hidden door between his suite of rooms and the room in which Isseksen had been held.

After taking care of the errant guards, personally assuring that the room would not hold evidence of an embarrassing nature, and alerting his legal staff to minimize any risks to his privacy, he decided it was time to take a nap. He hadn’t been feeling well anyway. Afterwards he would review his will and make the necessary changes to remove his traitorous child from the inheritance she had obviously scorned. Tomorrow he would stop in at the office and begin the process of removing her from involvement in any aspect of Brodsky Holdings and the companies over which it held sway. His last coherent thought before sleep was to wonder if it would be easier to just undo the paperwork that confirmed that Tommi Brodsky had been Thomas Brodsky.

One blonde paced; while her twin sat in a chair, head nodding, half asleep. They were in one of the small, sterile interrogation rooms of the FBI branch office. A door slammed in another part of the building and the head jerked up. With a sleep blurred voice, she croaked, “Uh, Dick? I mean Rikki…”

“Hush! And call me Tommi, remember?”

“Oh, uh, yeah, right, and I have to be Katrina. Anyway, how long do you think they’ll be holding us?”

“I don’t know, why?”

“Well, I need to go to the bathroom.”

“So, go.”

“I don’t want to do it here. I want to go to the bathroom somewhere private. You know, at home.”

“Why would you care? Oh, okay. Let’s go see how long we’re needed.”

Both headed toward the door. “Katrina” stared at it a moment, as if it were a snake about to spring, and then grabbed it. Both gave an audible sigh of relief when it turned and opened. They poked their heads out and found Agent Serdland sitting, back to them at a desk, with a phone glued to his ear. He kept nodding and saying, “Yes, sir,” but he didn’t sound happy.

They waited until he put the phone down and “Katrina” spoke. “Uh, Agent, uh, Serdland?”

“WHAT!” It was both growl and shout. Then he turned, saw who was speaking to him and with obvious effort, put on his game face. “Oh, sorry. What can I do for you ladies?”

“Uh, we were wondering if you were done with us yet.”

“Yeah, we’re done. Hold on and I’ll give you a ride home.”

“Oh, good. Thank you, Agent.”

The car ride was uncomfortable for its silence. Agent Serdland was obviously not happy and the two women didn’t seem motivated to fill the gap with the usual chatter. Finally, as they arrived back at the entrance to Maggie’s apartment, “Tommi” asked, “Uh, Agent? You don’t seem very happy. Is there a problem we should know about?”

“Yeah, I’ve been wondering how to bring it up. Basically, we have a case against the two goons who kidnapped you. They’ll be going away for a long time since they admit to everything–everything that is except implicating your father.”

“Oh.” Both women were clearly unhappy with that news.

“Of course, if you were able to do that, we could provide you with witness protection.”

“Oh.”

“Okay, look,” Serdland said, hesitantly. “We don’t really expect you to implicate your father and we don’t expect Dr. Isseksen to have the kind of insider information to do that, but I do have to ask you one question.”

There was a long silence as Agent Serdland examined the two women. They began to squirm uncomfortably and then Sydni finally broke the silence and asked, “What, Agent? What’s the question?”

“Who are you two, really? You look exactly like Dr. Katrina Isseksen and Tommi Brodsky, but I’ve met them both and you are not them.”

It was like a wake, only less jovial. Regardless of the eight hundred pound gorilla laying in the casket in the center of the room in a wake, at least a few people were trying to lighten the mood, talking about happier times and places. Here, in the living room of Maggie’s apartment, Rikki, Sydni and Agent Serdland just sat morosely waiting for the next hour and a half. Then, finally, Maggie, Karen and Barbie came strolling in. Their laughing conversation instantly ended and Karen actually stifled a scream when they saw the three people waiting in the living room.

Agent Serdland flashed his photo ID and asked the others to sit and join him. Then, when everyone was seated, and the group’s mood had again dropped into a sea of silent dread, he said, “Thank you for your attention. I need to know where Katrina Isseksen and Tommi Brodsky are and I have reason to believe that one or more of you have the information I need.

Maggie surreptitiously glanced at Rikki and Sydni, but not so carefully that he did not catch it.

“Now, before one of you perjures herself by trying to suggest that these two ladies,” he gestured casually at Rikki and Sydni, “are the two individuals in question, please understand that I know that they are not.

“At least you, Mrs. Isseksen,” he glared at Maggie, “must also be aware of the identities of these two and therefore know who they are not. Would you care to tell me where Dr. Isseksen and Ms. Brodsky can be found?”

Karen and Barbie looked down, unable to make eye contact with the Agent, telling him that they too were aware that it was Rikki and Sydni, not Katrina and Tommi, sitting across from them.

“At the moment, Dr. Isseksen and Ms. Brodsky are wanted for questioning in regard to a possible kidnapping,” he said in his best authoritative, you must talk to me voice. Then, he waited silently for someone to break. He had carefully worded his statement to make it sound like they were possibly the perpetrators rather than the victims to increase the tension and to see if that would cause someone to speak, if only to defend their friends and relatives. Chins quivered, but no one spoke.

“Maybe you don’t understand,” Agent Serdland spoke quietly and seemingly caringly now as he continued, “They may have been kidnapped. We need to find them to make certain that they are not in any distress.”

You could feel the tension pouring out of the room. Karen and Barbie even smiled for a moment. Agent Serdland’s psychology training told him that this was the key moment. If anyone was going to slip and say anything, it was now as relief flooded through them and control was weakened. It had worked many times in the past. The next words spoken would be telling, so he sat there saying absolutely nothing.

The guard at the gate when Kat and Tommi drove up to the gate was new. Tommi had never seen him before. He was yawning as he sauntered up to their car despite the chill in the morning air, leading Tommi to suspect he was on his second or third shift.

“This may take a while. This is a new guard. He’ll probably want to follow protocol to the letter, especially since Daddy Dearest has probably fired half the security staff and put the fear of Brodsky into the new guards as well as the ones left.”

“The fear of Brodsky?”

“Trust me; it’s much worse than just the fear of god.”

Further conversation was interrupted as the guard tapped, none to gently, on the driver’s side window with a baton. “Private drive. Back out and leave, now.”

“We’re expected.”

“No, you’re not. Now leave.”

“Call Renfrew and have him check on the Master of the house.”

“There’s no Renfrew here. Now beat it!” The guard tapped on the side door, leaving a dent.

Tommi glanced at Kat rhetorically asking, “You don’t think he got rid of Renfrew? He’s been with the old man longer than me. Nah. He couldn’t have.”

Turning back to the guard, Tommi spoke emphatically. “Get out your cell phone, push the pager button. Ask for Renfrew and tell him to check on Franklin Brodsky. Trust me, and I’m not just saying it for effect, your job could depend on it.”

“Look lady, I’ve been polite. Now haul that pile of junk out of this driveway right now or things are gonna get ugly.”

“Fine. I’ll call Renfrew. I should have done it in the first place.”

“Hello? Renfrew? This is Tommi. I’m at the front gate. Listen. I know Dad’s told you to have nothing to do with me, but it’s important that you check on him. He’s going to be in a coma. Trust me. Check. I’ll stay on the line. You know every hospital in the area has clear instructions. You know he hates hospitals after what happened to Mom. He could be taken to a hospital despite…look. Just check first. Yes, I’ll stay on the line. Oh, but first, please call the front gate and tell the Neanderthal here to back off. Okay. Thanks.

“Hey, tall dark and stupid! Do you hear ringing? It’s your boss calling. ” Tommi called out the window just as the guard’s cell phone started ringing. She couldn’t resist adding, “Remember what I said about how your job might depend on your behavior here?

Kat suddenly stifled a giggle. When Tommi glanced at her inquisitively, the giggles turned into full blown guffaws. By the time she could control herself, the guard was talking on his cell phone. He didn’t look happy.

“What’s so funny?”

“That song he uses as a ring tone.”

“Yeah? So?”

“It’s from the Dixie Chicks.”

“Again, so?”

“It’s called, “Goodbye Earl. It’s about two women who plot and kill a stupid, abusive man.”

Blonde Joke Chapter Twenty-Two by Jeffrey M. Mahr   Can you name some of the inventions blondes have developed? 1. Tricycle kickstand. 2. Solar flashlight. 3. Fire proof matches. 4. Inflatable dartboard. 5. Glass hammer. 6. Black light bulb. 7. Boomerang grenade.

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The party was in full swing at the Cravat. The club had been closed for this private party, although Kat, Maggie, Karen and Barbie continued to dance sensuously on stage along with a couple of new girls, Rikki and Sydni. Finally, the set ended and Kat, a sheen of sweat covering her body and a huge grin on her face, strode over to a podium set up to one side of the stage while the other girls scampered over to the sole occupied table in the room, located immediately in front of the stage, and giggled as they briefly played musical chairs with the laps of the men sitting there. The one woman already at the table, an older woman with striking red hair and an emerald green gown, chuckled demurely at their playful game. Finally, everyone was settled and Kat cleared her throat, moved the microphone close to her face and in her best, high pitched, breathy, bubbly, bimbo voice said, “Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny, a dumb blonde and a smart blonde are walking down the street. They all see a hundred dollar bill on the sidewalk. Which one picks up the money?”

Various suggestions came from the table, some were anatomically difficult to perform and a few were down right impossible. Kat laughed and held up a hand for quiet before answering. “The answer is supposed to be the ‘dumb blonde’ because the other three, Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny and the smart blonde are figments of the imagination.”

Kat suddenly became serious and her tone of voice changed to follow suit. “I stand here tonight and proudly say that we in this room are the proof that this is no longer correct. Sydni. Rikki. Please stand up for a moment.”

After some gentle wiggling to keep the man each was sitting on interested, they both stood up and giggled as they waited for Kat to continue. “Harry Walton, now Sydni Walton, is now finishing off her doctoral dissertation in Industrial Psychology. Sydni, do you feel like a dumb blonde?”

“No, Kat,” she answered with a breathy giggle and sat back down on Jack Webster’s lap.

“Dick Baldwin, now Rikki Baldwin, is also finishing a doctorate, but in Management. Same question, Rikki?”

“Not at all Kat, but sometimes it’s fun to let people underestimate me,” she answered with a grin and returned to her warm seat on top of Archibald Goddard’s lap.

“Before I continue, I’d like to thank the person without whom this little shindig could never have come to be, the person who single handedly ended all the lawsuits related to ViTaGeSeM–albeit with a bit of biological trickery by me and some interesting heart-to-heart conversations with Tommi–and the person wearing the most beautiful emerald green gown this evening. Let’s all give a warm round of applause for Franklin–now Jacqueline–Brodsky.”

The woman in question blushed almost as bright a red as her hair, but gave Kat a double thumbs up and a wink as she sat there.

“It’s been one glorious year and I’ll bet my twin would like to bore us with a few hours of financial reports…”

“Not as long as Petey here is keeping my behind so wonderfully warm, I’m not,” Tommi yelled back while giving her bottom a little extra wiggle on Chang Wu’s lap.

“Good. Then you all know the real reason why we’re here. Tommi? Would you come up here? I believe you have an announcement to make.”

“Keep my seat warm, Petey-boy?” Tommi said in a stage whisper that, along with another wiggle on Chang Wu’s lap, caused another round of laughter.

Reaching the stage, Tommi took the proffered microphone from Kat, who hugged her and then stepped back to give Tommi the stage.

“As you know, after Dad’s transformation, she hasn’t had much interest in Brodsky Holdings Inc. As a result, per the bylaws of the corporation, I’ve been serving as Chairman and CEO. I want each and every one of you to know how much I’ve appreciated your support as members of the board since the great shake-up immediately after I took that position.

“As you already know, I am stepping down as both Chairperson of the Board and CEO of Brodsky Holdings effective today, since tomorrow, I’ll be seeing all of you tomorrow at Queen of Heaven Church, two blocks down and one block over, tomorrow morning at nine in the morning for my wedding to Petey. I also hope that you will all continue to support the next Chairman and CEO…”

There was a mixture of applause and boos. The former from those happy for Tommi as she moved on with her life and the later from those who wanted her to continue doing what had been a spectacular job and unsure whether the anticipated heir would be able to continue the good work.

“Allow me,” Tommi raised a hand to still the audience, “to introduce the next Chairman and CEO of Brodsky Holdings–Frankie Brodsky. Come on up and say a few words, Frankie.”

An even more noticeable hush fell over the room as Frankie slowly stood and walked up onto the stage. Although all had been expecting this, there was much trepidation. Some fearing that this appointment would bring a return of the old ways, others fearing that more than just a return of the old ways, there would be a series of attempts at revenge.

“Thank you.” Frankie stopped speaking and adjusted her flowing red hair while she allowed for a brief response from the audience. You could hear a pin drop.

“I know that some of you–oh, heck, let’s be honest here–all of you have concerns about the return of Franklin Brodsky. Well, I’d like to assure you that I am not Franklin Brodsky.”

The audience buzzed hopefully.

“Oh, I know I used to be that crotchety, miserable old man, a man obsessed with getting even with the medical establishment that allowed his beloved Jacqueline to die–not just die, but die in excruciating and prolonged pain. Franklin Brodsky used the money from the multiple malpractice awards to found Brodsky Holdings and felt that every dollar had to be carefully and personally husbanded to insure that the company was the best it could be at what it was in honor of his lost wife. He also felt that anything he did to undercut others was just another chance to punish the incompetents who caused her death and over the years, as you all know, his need for revenge, to punish others for permitting Jackie to die, quickly spread to his dealings with everyone around him.

“Well, I am Frankie Brodsky, not Franklin Brodsky, and while my first response was to hate those who changed me, it didn’t last. Being out from under the pressure of running Brodsky Holdings was a shock. As the micromanager that I was, I was at a loss for what to do. Oh sure, I spent several weeks plotting my return and my even greater revenge. That’s why you are all so ambivalent about having me return to the seats of power and I don’t blame you. In fact, I think you all.

“Tommi, come here please.” She waited while Tommi stepped forward. Taking Tommi’s hands in hers, Frankie stared into her eyes and began to weep with joy as she said, “Thank you, dear. I would have tried to kill you when it happened, but I want you to know that I now consider this to have been the best thing that ever could have happened to me. Again, thank you.”

Still crying, Frankie turned back to the audience and said, “And thank you to all of you too. I promise you that my second reign will be markedly different than my first reign. For one, I intend to use my staff more effectively. To that end, although I know she was planning to return to her original post as CEO of BioTronics, I am now asking Tommi to take on a different role.”

Tommi’s eye’s opened wide in surprise. Frankie couldn’t see, it, but she was betting there were similar responses from many in the audience.

“Tommi, for proving that you have both the heart to care for others and the brain to do what is best for them, I am asking you to take the position of Director of Human Relations for Brodsky Holdings and take charge of all personnel functions for the entire group of businesses we run.”

“But who will run BioTronics?” It was a stalling tactic, Frankie realized. He had surprised Tommi with this offer, but them there would be time for her to realize this really was the position she most wanted.

“Well, you could continue to do so as a dual function, but I did have someone in mind if you were willing to take on the personnel position and run with it like I hope you will.”

Turning back to the audience, Frankie called out, “Kat? Katrina, where are you? I know we were able to drag you out of the lab. I saw you out there earlier. Would you please come up her for a moment?”

When Katrina arrived on stage, Frankie turned and took her hands, just as she had done with Tommi. “Dr. Isseksen, you’ve proved that you are a brilliant researcher. In the past, I would have acknowledged that brilliance grudgingly and pointed out that it was in spite of an overabundance of ethics. Now, recognizing that you have both and seeing how you have chaffed in the past under less enlightened bosses–I mean me, not Tommi–how would you like to take over the operation of BioTronics, should Tommi step down? Oh, and of course you would still have your own lab and free reign to investigate the wonders of genetics to your heart’s content.”

It was an easy answer. This was the stuff of dreams, yet even dreams have codicils. “Yes, but only if Tommi takes the other job.”

“Well, Tommi?” Frankie turned back to the other blonde on the stage.

“Boxed me in, just like old times. Didn’t you?” Tommi laughed. “You win again, Mom.”

“Excellent.” Frankie exclaimed. Grabbing Tommi’s right hand and Kat’s left, she held them up and asked the audience. “Is this acceptable to this informal gathering of the Board?”

There were cheers.

When the cheers settled down, Frankie thanked Tommi and Kat and asked them to sit down for a moment. Then, turning to the audience yet again, Frankie said, “It’s none of my business, but I would like to suggest the following. Kat, you may wish to consider hiring Rikki as your CEO and let her run the business with your guidance as Chairperson of the Board. That would give you a lot more time where we both know you’d prefer to be, the lab.”

“Tommi, again it’s none of my business, but Sydni has a brand new doctorate in Industrial Psychology. She’d be a wonderful person to assist you as you develop and coordinate the Human Resource Management services for all the different companies under the Brodsky umbrella, I think it’s what forty-six now?”

“Finally, and to prove how different my reign will be this time, I too would like to step down as Chairperson and CEO of Brodsky Holdings.”

“Huh?”

“What?”

“Yes, you heard me. I may not look like it right now, but I’ve still got the mind of that cantankerous, micromanaging old fool that almost destroyed Brodsky Holdings and a couple of you folks in the process. The last thing Brodsky holdings needs is me at the helm.”

“Than who’ll run the ship?” Archie called out, followed by similar questions from just about everyone else in the room.

“When I was a man, I had some of the most fantastic employees working around me, and sadly they often had to work around me in order to keep Brodsky Holdings afloat despite my machinations. One of the best of them was my secretary, Sandra Smalling. Sandra knows the business inside and out. More importantly, now that I’ve stepped back enough from the business to look at it with a slightly less jaundiced eye, I realize that Sandra has repeatedly shown the intelligence, coolness under fire–usually from me–and compassion to do the right thing even when I was doing the opposite. I can’t think of a better person to run Brodsky Holdings than her.”

Squinting from the bight stage lights, Frankie looked out into the audience, trying to locate Sandra. Finally, she located her, sitting next to Neil Stevens, their hands on the table, entwined in a loving grasp. Sandra was clearly shocked, but, as Neil whispered intently in her ear her expression change to one of happiness.

“I’ll be happy to accept the job of CEO…” The rest was drowned out in cheers, so she started again. “As I said, I’ll be happy to accept the job of CEO, BUT…” Sandra waited and looked about the room, waiting to see if she’d be able to finish he thought this time.

“But, there are two stipulations. First, I’ll only take the position of Chief Executive Officer. Sorry, Frankie, but you’re stuck with the Chairmanship. Is that okay with you so far?”

Frankie thought a moment and nodded. “I’d say I’m going to be a very relaxed Chairperson, but you all know that would be a lie. I will, however, promise to limit myself to guidance rather than direct management, as a Chairperson should do. What’s the second stipulation?”

“The second stipulation is that you stay on as CEO for a bit longer.”

“How long and why?” Frankie asked. Smiling, she then added, “See, I'm listening.”

There was a polite smattering of laughter from that comment. More importantly from Frankie’s point of view, Sandra and Tommi both nodded in agreement.

“'How long' is about three months. Why is because Neil,” Sandra waved him up to stand beside her before continuing, “has asked me to marry him and I’ve accepted.”

Blonde Joke Chapter Twenty-Three by Jeffrey M. Mahr   What do you get when you put several blondes in a freezer? Frosted Flakes

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The party was over, the lights were dimmed to near normal and all the other guests had left. Tommi, Frankie and Katrina sat at a table in the corner as the Cravat’s wait staff cleaned around them. Each nursed a partially filled wine glass and communed with her own thoughts. Finally, Frankie hesitantly asked, “That went well, didn’t it?”

Tommi and Kat laughed before pointing out that it was an amazing party.

“And I don’t just mean the food, the wine and the people,” Tommi added. “This wrapped up so well, it could have been the ending of a fairy tale.”

“Yes,” Katrina agreed. “And not one of those Grimm Brother tales where everyone dies, a happy fairy tale, like the one’s Disneyâ„¢ likes to tell. The only thing missing was Agent Serdland. Maggie’s been seeing him for a while and wanted him to come to this shindig with her, but he was on assignment and couldn’t.”

“So, Mom,” Tommi asked. “I know I’ve asked this a bunch of times already, but I’ve got to ask again. You’re really not mad?”

“No, Tommi darling. I couldn’t be happier with the way things have turned out. Not that I ever had any expectations of changing gender. I can honestly say I never anticipated that, but I can live with it and, to be honest, being about forty years younger outweighs any issues I might have had.

“Actually, I applaud the two of you for finding a unique and ingenious solution to the problem of Franklin Brodsky. Even the gender change might not have stopped me if it weren’t for two things. Withholding the proof of change I would need to obtain a new identity until I agreed to step down was the first. The second was using your mother’s genes as the template for my remake. No matter how hard I fought and how much I wanted to hate, I couldn’t do it because I kept seeing her reflection and knew I needed to act as she would, not as Franklin Brodsky would. Does that make any sense?”

“Perfect sense, Mom,” Tommi said and reached over to hug her.

“How abut you, Tommi?” Katrina asked. “Do you have any regrets here?”

“You mean about being turned into your twin?”

“Among other things, yes.”

“Nope. None what so ever. In fact, it’s been a really blast to watch people do a double take and reassess their first impressions of me after underestimating me in a business deal. Besides, now I have a twin sister or three. How could I ever give that up?”

“How about you, Kat?” Frankie asked and then mused, “Gee, as Franklin, I don’t think I would have even thought to ask that question.”

“Probably not, Mom,” Tommi interjected. “But it’s a great question. How about it, Kat? I was a real bastard to you and those blond jokes were just the icing on the cake.”

“Actually, I could have done without the last year or two, but I heartily support the outcome. I wasn’t joking about this being a fairy tale ending. I got the job of my dreams, I got to reconnect with my kid sister and I got not just one twin,” Katrina noted as she patted Tommi’s knee, “But three if you count Rikki and Sydni.”

“By the way, did you hear that Rikki and Archie Goddard have been spending a lot of time together? They’ve been double dating with Sydni and Billy Smith, two of the guys in the consortium that was competing with BioTronics until we co-opted them onto the Board.”

”Well, Kat, you haven’t been doing too badly with Jack Webster.”

“Nor you with Chang Wu,” Kat responded with a laugh.

“So, how about you, Mom?” Tommi asked. “Are you ready to get into the dating scene yet?”

“Please,” Frankie laughed, I’m having enough trouble just trying to keep up with all you youngsters.”

“Yeah,” Tommi chortled. “Youngsters? Have you looked in a mirror lately, you old crone?”

“I’ll old crone you. I’ll have you know I don’t look a day over thirty.”

“Try twenty, Mom.”

Kat nodded in agreement.

“Honestly, I’ve just been clearing the decks, so to speak. With Sandra taking over as CEO I’ll have time for a bit of personal exploration. In fact, I plan on making sure there are very few Board meetings for the next year or so as I do some traveling and try to get a better handle on who I now am.”

This time, all three hugged. Afterward, Kat mentioned the time. “It’s getting late you know and all three of us need our beauty sleep. But, Tommi, before we leave, just to show that there really aren’t any hard feelings, I have a blonde joke for you.”

“Hey, I resemble that remark,” Tommi said indignantly before giggling.

“You certainly do, dear,” Frankie noted, “especially the blonde joke I’m about to tell.” Turning back to Kat, she asked, “Are you sure you want to do that? Blonde jokes have been an especially painful part of the horrible way you’ve been treated.”

“Not a problem, the way things have turned out, blonde jokes just don’t seem as barbed as in the past.”

The others settled in and took a last sip of their wine. Just as Frankie was about to begin, Tommi interrupted. “Sorry, Mom, but I have just one completely irrelevant question, I’ve just got to ask.

“Sure, Honey. Ask away.”

“Why do we always call Morton, your butler, Renfrew?”

“That’s an easy one. When you were three, you couldn’t say his last name, Redfield. It kept coming out something like “Refew, and given the similarity to Dracula’s man, Renfew, the name stuck.

“Now, before that blonde joke, may I ask you an irrelevant question or two?”

“Sure, Mom. Gee, you know, I really like saying that. I never realized exactly how much I missed Mom.”

“Me too, Honey. Me too. Anyway, the first question, this is a somewhat irrelevant question, actually two, is, “Who was Tennant and what ever happened to him?”

“That’s an easy one too. George Tennant was a made-up name for Ed Woods–his real name, I think–one of the bouncers here at The Cravat. He’s also an actor, who’s since left the area for Hollywood to follow his dreams. The money you gave him was a great help I understand.”

“And my second and more relevant question is, “When did you two concoct this whole sting?”

Tommi and Kat glanced at each other and Kat shrugged, so Tommi answered. “Back when we were in the isolation chamber at the lab, the general framework was developed in-between planning how to escape from BioTronics. It all almost fell apart when Tommi had a brief identity crisis from trying to be Tom and Tommi at the same time. The plan wasn’t finalized until after I took Kat’s place as your captive at White Wood in order to give her time to talk to you, when you were still Franklin Brodsky. It wasn’t until she agreed with me that Franklin Brodsky just could not continue to exist if this was to be resolved, just before we escaped from White Wood, that the last stage of the process when into effect.”

“Tommi took my place so I could prepare the serum needed using some stray hairs from the clothes in mom’s closet. I was actually the one to add the modified dose of ViTaGeSeM needed to initiate your transformation to you champagne that night. We hope you forgive us, if not now, than at some point. Even Maggie, Barbie and Karen were mad at us for a while because we couldn’t tell them.”

“Of course, I forgive you.” Frankie smiled and hugged the two blondes yet again in order to help relieve them of any feelings of guilt. “You need to believe that I now see this as the best thing that could have happened to me. I had wealth and power. I had all the trappings that went with wealth and power, but I was so angry I could never enjoy it. I almost destroyed you, Tommi, my own flesh and blood. I never really saw you, just a reminder of your mother. I can finally step back and look objectively at my life as Franklin Brodsky. Now, I can see that he did some good, but I can also see all the pain that he caused. Best of all, he’s not me. Frankie Brodsky can, and will do what she can to ease the pain and help others the way Jacqueline would have wanted from the start.

There were tears in everyone’s eyes and everyone hugged yet again. You can never appreciate the value of a cathartic event until you experience one of your own and it was evident that Frankie Brodsky truly was a new person.

“I feel like I should ask an irrelevant question too,” Kat noted, realizing that it was time to change the subject or the party would end on a sad note–unacceptable after all that had occurred. Instead, she said, “but I don’t have one, so I’ll just ask, ‘What’s the joke already?’”

They all sat back and enjoyed a sip of the wine as Frankie began.

“A blonde and a lawyer are seated next to each other on a flight from Los Angeles to New York. The lawyer asks if she would like to play a fun game. The blonde, tired, just wants to take a nap. Politely she declines and rolls over to the window to catch a few winks. The lawyer persists and explains that the game is easy and a lot of fun.

“He explains, ‘I ask you a question, and if you don't know the answer, you pay me $5.00, and vise versa.’

“Again, she declines and tries to get some sleep. The lawyer, now agitated, says, ‘Okay, if you don't know the answer you pay me $5.00, and if I don't know the answer, I will pay you $500.00.’

This catches the blonde's attention and, figuring there will be no end to this torment unless she plays, agrees to the game.

“The lawyer asks the first question. ‘What's the distance from the earth to the moon?’ The blonde doesn't say a word, reaches into her purse, pulls out a $5.00 bill and hands it to the lawyer.

"’Okay,’ says the lawyer, ‘Your turn.’

“She asks the lawyer, ‘What goes up a hill with three legs and comes down with four legs?’ The lawyer, puzzled, takes out his laptop computer and searches all his references. No answer. He taps into the air phone with his modem and searches the Internet and the Library of Congress. No answer. Frustrated, he sends e-mails to all his friends and coworkers, to no avail. After an hour, he wakes the blonde and hands her $500.00.

“The blonde says, ‘Thank you,’ puts her head on the pillow and goes back to sleep.

“The lawyer, who is more than a little miffed, wakes the blonde and asks, ‘Well, what's the answer?’ Without a word, the blonde reaches into her purse, hands the lawyer $5.00, and goes back to sleep.”