Disclaimer - I own no rights whatsoever to the Suite Life of Zack and Cody.

A/N – Even while I was writing my first Zack and Cody fanfic, "Murder, My Suite", I considered doing a sequel. I even decided on the title "Farewell, My London." My biggest fear was that the sequel wouldn't be as good as the original, because sequels never are as good as the originals. However, many of you reviewed and said you'd like to see a sequel. So I felt obliged to create one.

Besides sequels not being as good as the original, I tweaked the format of this one. When I wrote "Murder, My Suite" it was my first fanfic ever written in the controversial script format. With the sequel, I'm writing in plain old-fashioned, hard-boiled prose. This is experimental. Whether or not I can portray the characters equally well in both formats remains to be seen.

But I did this to honor the requests of those who wanted to see me write another Zack and Cody fanfic. I look forward to your feedback. With no further ado…

"Farewell, My London"

By Sean M. Cogan

"Arwin, how many times have I told you? No more of your crazy experiments in our basement!"

Mr. Moseby took a step closer to the strangely altered telephone booth in the center of the basement, tripping over a vacuum cleaner. The toe of his shoe hit the power switch, and a garden hose, somehow miraculously attached where the vacuum hose was supposed to be, flew up in the air and wrapped itself around Mr. Moseby's leg. As Moseby picked himself off the floor and tried to unwrap the hose from his leg, he fell backwards, and the vacuum propelled itself forward, dragging Moseby over leaf blowers, roller skates, and tool kits that Arwin had made alterations to. Moseby stood up, bumping his head on a lever. As he rubbed his head, a tile from the ceiling folded in half, and two robotic hands lowered from the ceiling, holding a bucket full of soapy water. Before the startled hotel manager even had time to think about what the invention could possibly do, his entire torso was wetted with hot, soapy water.

Arwin frantically leaped at the vacuum cleaner and turned off the power switch. As he looked at his boss, he could practically see the steam spouting from his ears. Moseby pursed his lips and released a short, steady stream of soapy water.

Even as Arwin snatched at a towel to offer the manager, Moseby stood fuming.

"But, sir, this is my crowning achievement! I've finally perfected the P. U.!"

"The P what?"

"The P.U. It's designed to take the user into a parallel universe! Zack and Cody tried it out, but there were still some bugs to work out."

At this, Arwin opened the door of the booth and gestured towards it invitingly, and a multitude of flies and beetles crawled out.

"Yes," Moseby said slowly. "I noticed."

Arwin laughed nervously.

"I don't mean those bugs," he said. "You'll always have those bugs. But the machine itself works like a dream."

Mr. Moseby examined the device carefully.

"Looks more like a nightmare."

"You look like you could use a vacation," Arwin insisted. "Why don't you just give the P. U. a try?"

"Forget it. Absolutely not."

Arwin's lip trembled as he looked at Mr. Moseby.

"Please?"

"Certainly not."

"I'll pay the fare for it."

Moseby began to walk away, but as soon as his back was turned, Arwin pulled another lever. Another ceiling tile folded in half and two more mechanical arms extended from it, holding another bucket. Moseby turned to Arwin with a pleading look.

"All right!" Arwin demanded, in a voice more than vaguely threatening. "Get in!"

Moseby sighed.

"Oh, fine! But if this thing doesn't work you need to throw this out, along with all the other junk in this room."

Arwin grinned and clapped his hands gleefully as Moseby stepped into the booth. Arwin inserted a coin into the slot and hit a few buttons on a keyboard held to the wall with duct tape.

"I know how much you enjoy old film noirs," Arwin said, "so I'm trying to program something suitable in."

He stepped out of the booth and closed the door.

"Now just hit that lever in there," he instructed. "Bomb voyage!"

"You mean bon voyage!" Moseby corrected. "And I'm starting to rethink this."

But as he tried to push the door back open, he tripped over the lever, and he was temporarily blinded by a flash of light.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

When Moseby could see again, most of Arwin's inventions were gone, along with Arwin.

Moseby scratched his head as he found his way out of the P.U.

Then he heard the sound of a whaling saxophone on Arwin's radio, followed by the old-fashioned, folksy voice of a public radio announcer.

"Good evening, Mr. and Mrs. America. This morning, the local police department uncovered another illegal root beer distillery beneath the floor of the St. Mark hotel. Look at our boys go, cracking down on those fashionable bootleggers! In other news, Bruno the Brute has escaped the local penitentiary and is at large once again! Now, we return you to the sultry swing sound of…"

Moseby turned the dial on the radio and the announcer was silenced with a click.

Then he walked through the doors of Arwin's lab and climbed the stairs to the Tipton's lobby.