Craven Gets Flashed XIV

The following is a blow-by-blow account of the night’s main event at Ramone’s Pizza:

Good evening, Mr. and Mrs. America and all the ships at sea. This is Walter Winchell reporting.

Ten seconds into the first round it was Sherlock Holmes by a knockout. Ramone Vasquez was out cold and being tended to by the voluptuous Irene Adler, otherwise known as Viv,  seamstress at Kenny’s Dry Cleaner’s.

When his bride Madame Roza arrived on the scene, chaos ensued, as she put on the gloves and challenged Miss Adler to a surprise bonus round. Having accepted the challenge, and being cheered on by the Yorkville chapter of the Baker Street Irregulars, Miss Adler went on to beat Madame Roza about the head with a loaf of day-old Italian bread. Madame Roza succumbed to her injuries and was carted away by daughter Anika. Who cursed the ground once walked on by Ramone Vasquez.

“We are taking the money and running, Vasquez!” said Anika. ”We leave you like we found you; up to your neck in pizza sauce and flirtatious ladies!”

Arriving on the scene, to the delight of the remaining crowd, was an intoxicated tattooed lady, arm in arm with an equally inebriated redhead. Both of whom came in singing an old English boxing ditty.

 

They called him Mr. Clammy

When he’d given up the gin

But now he’s Mr. Punchy

Since he took one on the chin

 

Rah rah

Sis boom bah

Punchy’s on the run

If you give him

half a chance

he’ll land flat

on his bum

 

Moved by the recitation, Mr. Holmes made a move for the redhead, but Holmes was out his weight class and was soon sat upon by both redhead and tattooed lady.

Joe the butcher threw in the towel and escorted the ladies to a nearby saloon for a much needed pitcher of martinis.

Mr. Holmes and Miss Adler were hustled into a taxi by the remaining Irregulars, and returned to their dry cleaning establishment.

And that wraps things up here at Ramone’s, Good night, Mr. and Mrs. America and all the ships at sea!.”

 

“I can’t believe you made a move on that redhead," said Miss Adler.”

“And I can’t believe you made a move on the pizza guy,” said Holmes. “A dry cleaner’s not good enough for you?”

“That flirting got me two slices with meatballs. I even saved ya some. It’s in my handbag.”

“Awww.”

“Ah, shuddup and eat your pizza, Sherlock. And don’t drip on your trousers. You know how hard it is to clean up.”

***

Craven Danger and Jenny Wilkins arrived on the scene and soon realized that Ramone Vasquez was not dead, or as bloody as Jenny would have liked.

“All this police action for a black eye?”

“What police action?” said officer Powell. “We’re picking up pizza for the captain’s retirement party.”

“Then what’s the ambulance for?” said Craven.

“They’re picking up beer from the saloon next door. They owe us a keg. Team work. It keeps a city on its feet. Now if ya don’t mind, we got a party to get to. Goodnight, folks. And goodnight, Ramone. Keep icing that eye, or you’re gonna have one doozy of a shiner.”

Ramone was seated at a table nursing his wounds and sulking.

“Madame Roza and ungrateful daughter have deserted poor Ramone. And the delicious Miss Adler has returned to that revolting detective. What am I to do?”

“Well this is a big disappointment,” said Jenny. “No offense, Ramone, but I was hoping you’d be dead, or at least splayed out on the floor with an open would or two. That’s what sells papers.”

“Papers?” said Ramone.

“Yeah. You laid out on the floor. An open would on your forward. Nothing but blood from the top of your head to the tip of your toes. All in graphic front page black and white. That’s what a news-hungry public wants. Petty crimes and political corruption always take a backseat to a blast from a well-oiled machine gun. And if your still squirting blood when the photographer shows up? Even better.”

“You want I should squirt blood?”

“Nah. A little tomato sauce and maybe a couple of squashed meatballs attached to your head might do the trick. It’ll look like part of your brains just got blown out.”

“Why a meatball?” said Craven. “Why not eggplant?“

“Because during our car ride I was thinking about what your brain must resemble, and meatball came to mind.”

“Wiseguy.”

“Maybe,” said Ramone, “if I do this thing my Roza will take pity and return.”

“Stupider things have been known to happen,” said Jenny. “So, yeah, maybe she will. Now lean way back in your seat while I splatter your brains all over your face. Mr. Danger, you go out to the car. Theres’s a typewriter in the trunk. I need you to write a story I can sell to the Daily News along with my pictures. Make it something that’ll cause readers on the subway to miss their stop, and maybe throw up a little bit. Write it in blood if you have to.”

“If it gets me away from you, I’m in. I might even kill you off just for fun. That’s something I was thinking about on the car ride down.”

 

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