Three days later, Phyllis had arranged things with another florist, another bakery, and another bridal salon. And Fluey was ready for Round Two of Operation: Sabotage. Phyllis was at the bridal salon with the girls. She was trying on wedding dresses while Shawn, FG, and Danalleah were trying on bridesmaid dresses. The three of them were discussing the colors of the dresses. Phyllis hadn't decided yet, and the girls couldn't make up their minds on what color they wanted. While that was going on, Fluey was over at the park with Multi and Coiley, and they were tossing a frisbee to Skittles, and she'd run after it, jump into the air, catch it in her mouth, and run it back to one of the boys.
"I'm glad to see you've loosened up about Phyllis's wedding, Fluey," Coiley said.
"Yeah, well," Fluey said shrugging. "In the immortal words of Ms. Doris Day, que sera sera. What will be will be. You know."
Skittles then trotted up to Fluey with the frisbee in her mouth. Fluey took the disc and tossed, directly toward a mud puddle. It had rained the night before, so parts of the park were pretty muddy. When Skittles jumped up, and caught the frisbee, she ended up taking a dive right into the mud puddle.
Ker-SPLAT!
"There she goes again," Coiley said. "You realize that's the fifth mud puddle she's jumped into today?"
"Fluey, why do you keep throwing the frisbee toward the mud puddles?" Multi asked.
"Oh," Fluey said, looking a bit sheepish. "Sorry, Multi, I didn't realize where I was throwing them. Look, if you want, I'll take her and hose her off."
"Okay," Multi agreed. "I'll see you later."
Once Coiley and Multi were out of sight, Fluey let Skittles roll around a little more in the mud. Then, he picked her up, and proceeded to walk downtown, right in the direction of the bridal salon the girls were at.
Fluey had planned this all along. He purposely tossed the frisbee into the mud puddles at the park in order to get Skittles good and dirty. He knew if he walked by the salon, Skittles would see Phyllis, and naturally, rush inside to greet her.
Fluey nonchalantly passed the salon without even stopping, but Skittles began barking, as she saw Phyllis through the window, modeling one of the wedding gowns she was trying to decide on for the girls. Quickly, she jumped out of Fluey's arms, and raced inside the salon at full speed.
"What the . . . ." Shawn started.
"Look out!" FG shouted, but her warning came too late.
Phyllis turned around, and one nanosecond later, something slammed right into her, and knocked her off her feet. She ended up hitting a mannequin on her way down, and that started a domino effect, and several more crashed to the floor. Skittles wasn't aware of this. She was standing on Phyllis's chest, licking her face, and getting muddy little paw prints all over the gown she was wearing (and had neither bought, nor paid for). Fluey was watching outside, and trying hard not to laugh. He knew he had to compose himself before he went in there, or else he was going to blow it. Finally, he pulled himself together, and ran inside the salon.
"Skittles!" he called out. "Come here girl! Where did you . . . . . . oh, hi, sis."
"Hi," Phyllis said, pulling Skittles off her, and handing her to Fluey. "Where's Multi?"
"Oh, I'm pinch hitting," Fluey said, taking the muddy puppy. "We were tossing around the frisbee at the park, and she hit all the mud puddles thanks to my throws. I offered to take her and hose her down, but she got away from me. Geez, Phyllis, I'm really sorry about that."
"So I've noticed," Phyllis said. "Look at this dress!"
"Ruined," the owner of the salon said, sourly, as she walked into the room. "Everything in my salon is completely ruined!"
"Sorry about that, ma'am," Fluey said. "Guess I forgot to get her leash."
"I'm so sorry, Mrs. Oliver," Phyllis said. "I'll pay for the damages of course."
"You bet you will!" Mrs. Oliver shouted. "Get out of that dress and out of my shop this minute!"
Phyllis glared at the woman, and went into a fitting room to change out of the puppy-print gown and into her regular clothes. Once she was changed, she returned the gown to Mrs. Oliver who grabbed it back in a huff.
"And don't let me see you bring that filthy little beast in here again!" she shouted. "Or his little dog, either!"
"Hey!" Fluey shouted, indignantly.
"Don't worry, I won't," Phyllis said, glaring. "As a matter of fact, I won't be coming back to your shop at all, after what you just called my brother! Besides, who'd want to buy a wedding gown from the Wicked Witch of the West, anyway?"
"Well, I never!" Mrs. Oliver huffed, and disappeared into the back room of her store.
"The nerve of that woman!" Phyllis shouted, as she, Fluey, and the girls left.
"Sorry, sis," Fluey said, sincerely. "I didn't mean to get you in trouble. I'll pay for the damages to the store if you want."
"Don't worry about it, Fluey," Phyllis said. "I'm not mad at you, or Skittles. She's just a puppy, she can't help get excited when she sees us. But next time you decide to play frisbee, avoid the mud puddles, okay?"
"Sure," Fluey said, nodding.
"I guess this means we'll have to find another bridal salon," Danalleah said with a shrug.
"Yeah, but I'm not worried," Phyllis said. "This time, I'll make sure it's not being run by a relative of the Wicked Witch of the West."
And that was all there was to that. Fluey took Skittles back to his place and gave her a good bath, a couple of treats, and a belly rub for a job well done (though Skittles couldn't figure out exactly what she did to earn that belly rub, but she wasn't complaining!)
The next day, Raphael took Phyllis to a bakery in town called La Boulangerie des Grands. The owner, and head chef, was a man known only as Jean-Claude, and he was French, a wedding perfectionist, and a friend of Raphael's mother. After the disaster with the cupcake tower, Mrs. Caprezio called Jean-Claude and commissioned a wedding cake beyond wedding cakes for the couple. Phyllis returned home with a photo of the cake design to show Big D and Fluey. It was a square shaped, five tier cake. Each tier was a different cake flavor (going from the bottom up, lemon, red velvet, devil's food, strawberry, and angel food). The color scheme was white and silver. The icing and the trim was white, but the details were silver. There were silver diamond shapes covering the cake, and at each point of the diamond was a small, silver bead. There were also what looked like crystal accents around the bottom of each layer, and the whole thing was adorned with white icing roses. The topper was a cream colored heart that was accented in crystal rhinestones. The whole thing looked like it had been showered in glitter.
"Isn't this the most gorgeous cake you've ever seen in your life?" Phyllis said, dreamily. "Jean-Claude said it's his most famous design."
"How much is this going to cost me?" Big D asked.
"And he even said he'd have it ready by tomorrow," Phyllis went on.
"Phyllis, how much is he charging for it?" Big D asked again, getting a little annoyed that his granddaughter was just beating around the bush with his question.
"Oh, don't worry, Big D," Phyllis said. "Since Raph's mother is a very good friend of Jean-Claude's, we're getting a huge discount!"
"How much, young lady?" Big D asked, in an ultra-stern voice.
"Ummmm . . . . ." Phyllis said, and she started twirling a strand of her hair around her finger, and shifting from one foot to the other, nervously. "Twelve hundred."
"Twelve hundred dollars?" Fluey shouted. "That's ridiculous! Chief, when you got married, how much did . . . . ."
"Not that much," Big D said. "How much is the discount, may I ask?"
"Seventy percent, actually," Phyllis said. "Because Raph's mom and Jean-Claude are such good friends."
"Ah ha," Big D said, nodding. He pulled out his pipe and lit it. "If that's the case, then it's not a problem at all. After all, seventy percent of twelve hundred . . . . ."
"Well, umm, actually chief . . . ." Phyllis said, and she started chewing on the end of the strand of hair she was chewing. "Twelve hundred dollars is the discount price."
"I see," Big D said, calmly, but both Phyllis and Fluey could tell he wasn't very happy.
"Twelve hundred bucks is the discount price?" Fluey asked, incredulously. "Then that would mean the regular price would be around . . . . . ."
"Four thousand dollars," Big D said. "You expect me to pay four thousand dollars for a wedding cake, young lady? Absolutely not! I am not spending that amount of money on a cake! It's out of the question!"
"But it's only going to cost twelve hundred," Phyllis said. "And it won't cost you anything, Big D. Not a thing."
"Oh it won't, will it?" Big D asked. "And how is that possible, might I ask, Phyllis Marie?"
"It's simple," Phyllis said, cringing a bit at being called by her full name. "Mario and Fran are paying for it."
"Mario and Fran?" Fluey asked.
"Raph's parents," Phyllis said. "They insisted I call them Mario and Fran."
"I hope that doesn't give your fiance any ideas," Big D said. "I'm not comfortable with him calling me anything but Mr. Dawson for right now."
"I talked to him about that," Phyllis said, smiling reassuringly at her grandfather. "He said until you say something directly to him, he'll call you Mr. Dawson."
"Are they paying for the whole shebang?" Fluey asked.
"No," Big D said. "I'm paying for some things, and I assume you and your fiance are paying for other things as well, correct, Phyllis?"
"Right," Phyllis said.
"I thought it was tradition for the bride's family to pay for everything," Fluey said.
"If the Caprezios are going to be this generous, then who am I to look a gift horse in the mouth?" Big D said.
"I never pegged you to be cheapskate, Big D," Fluey said.
"Watch it, young man," Big D warned, giving Fluey a Look.
The next day, Fluey went down to La Boulangerie des Grands. He needed to infiltrate the place for "Operation: Sabotage." He had gone to one of the SSHQ's Masters of Disguise, Agent Zei (pronounced "Zay") for some advice on going undercover as a French chef. Agent Zei put together an authentic looking costume for him, and gave Fluey some pointers on pulling off a French accent. Before he left the house for his infiltration, he had "borrowed" one of Phyllis's eyebrow pencils, and drew a thin mustache on his upper lip.
Once at the bakery, Fluey walked inside, and found Jean-Claude putting some finishing touches on the cake for Phyllis and Raphael's wedding.
"Pardon me," Fluey said, in a faux French accent. "But are you zee famous Jean-Claude?"
"I am," Jean-Claude said. "Who are you?"
"Pierre Francois," Fluey said. "Directly from Paree. And I take eet zis ees your latest creation?"
"Oui," Jean-Claude said. "Spectacular, no?"
"Eh."
"What do you mean 'eh'?"
"Well . . . . eet is all right, if you want to be plain and boring. How long have you been away from Paree?"
"Ten years."
"Zat ees what I thought. Nobody wants a plain white cake at their weddings anymore. They want color."
"Color? Hmmm . . . . ."
"I'll show you."
With that, Fluey picked up a tube of pink frosting, and a tube of blue frosted, and squeezed just a little bit of each onto the cake.
"You get zee idea?" he asked Jean-Claude.
"Sacres bleu!" Jean-Claude shouted. "I must create!"
Soon, Jean-Claude was squirting his cake with pink, yellow, and blue frosting every which way. Fluey quietly snuck out the front door. He didn't want to hang around when Phyllis and Raphael came by. They might recognize him.
Half an hour later, Phyllis and Raphael entered La Boulangerie des Grands and were greeted by Jean-Claude.
"Mes amies," he said. "I have had a burst of inspiration! What I have done with your cake . . . . . wait until you see eet!"
Jean-Claude then left the room, and returned rolling a cart with the cake on it, covered with a sheet or something. He removed the sheet to reveal the cake was now splattered with pink, yellow, and blue frosting squiggles. Both Raphael and Phyllis stared at it, not knowing what to make of it.
"It's . . . . ." Raphael said, trying to think of the right words to describe it. ". . . .different."
"She is my greatest masterpiece!" Jean-Claude gushed. "A truly remarkable work of art."
"It's a work of art all right," Phyllis said. "A real Jackson Pollock."
"Look, Jean-Claude," Raphael said. "I know you and my mom are close, but really, this isn't what we had in mind."
"If you do not use my masterpiece in your wedding, monsieur, then you can just take your business elsewhere!" Jean-Claude shouted.
"It's up to you, Phyl," Raphael said.
"Let's take our business elsewhere," Phyllis said. "I'll be the laughing stock of the town if the center piece of the reception looks like it was decorated by Jackson Pollock!"
"Philistines! Peasants!" Jean-Claude shouted, angrily. "Zis type of cake is the toast of Paree this season!"
Phyllis and Raphael walked out of the bakery with Jean-Claude shouting in French at them. They had no clue what he was saying, but they had a pretty darn good feeling he was screaming French obscenities at them.
The next morning, Fluey spotted one of Phyllis's "Wedding To-Do" lists on the kitchen table, and picked it up. He read through it, just for curiosity's sake. When he saw the item find new bakery (again), he smiled. Even though he hadn't seen the outcome of his sabotage, he knew it worked (though he wished he could see the look on his sister's face when she saw the Jackson Pollock cake).
"Now all that's left to do is to take care of the flowers," Fluey said. "But how am I going to do that?"
As Fluey thought that over, the front page of the entertainment section of the newspaper caught his eye.
"Super star of stage, screen, and the occasional television commercial, Lyza Minestroni to appear at Megatropolis Forum this weekend only," he read. Then, he smiled sneakily. He had heard Lyza Minestroni was one extreme diva. She was prone to temper tantrums when she didn't get what she wanted, when she wanted it. And he also knew that nobody wanted to make Lyza Minestroni mad.
Fluey then picked up the phone and dialed a booking agent he knew. Not only did he book some of the Impossibles' tour sites, but Fluey also knew he worked with Lyza Minestroni before, and he needed to get in touch with her people. Once he got the number, he dialed.
"Hello, is this Lyza Minestroni's agent?" he asked, pinching his nose shut to get his voice to sound nasal. "I'm calling on behalf of the Megatropolis branch of the Lyza Minestroni fan club. We are so honored that Ms. Minestroni is coming to our city, we want to show our undying love for her by sending her one million white roses."
Once Fluey made arrangements with Lyza Minestroni's agent, Fluey then called the florist Phyllis was getting her flowers from.
"I'm calling on behalf of Ms. Lyza Minestroni," he said. "Ms. Minestroni requests exactly one million white roses in her dressing room at the forum. And you wouldn't want to make Ms. Minestroni angry would you? I'm sure you heard about the time a florist didn't give her the roses she requested? It took weeks for the doctors to pull out the press-on nails Ms. Minestroni had imbedded into her face. And that was a small example of what Ms. Minestroni does when she doesn't get what she wants!"
Fluey hung up with the florist after a little while, and leaned back in his chair. All he had to do now was wait for Phyllis to get home. And she wasn't happy when she did. She was so angry, she actually slammed the door shut.
"Ooooh, the nerve of her!" she yelled, throwing her purse on the floor. "I don't care how famous she is, or how big her diva tantrums are! She . . . . . she . . . . . errrggggh!"
"Bad day at the office, sis?" Fluey teased.
"No," Phyllis said. "I went to the florist's today to check in on my flowers. They were all given to Lyza Minestroni."
"Seriously?" Fluey asked (as if he didn't know any better).
"Yeah, the florist said if Ms. Minestroni didn't get every single white rose in the city of Megatropolis, Ms. Minestroni would go down their and rip their lips off."
"Ouch. So now you're gonna have to find yet another florist, huh?"
"Yes. Oooohhhh, this is so frustrating. But, things can only get better from here. Like the old saying goes. Third time's the charm."
"You got that, right, sis."
Round Two was over. Now all Fluey had to do was go in for "Operation: Sabotage, Round Three." As Phyllis had said, third time's the charm. However, Fluey was hoping this third set of sabotage would get Phyllis fed up with the whole thing and she'd call it off.