"The partially, nearly Naked Gun 3 : 'They Saved Crumpf's Brain'..."
Summary: Frank Drebbin is out of retirement and on the case when he learns the fanatical former president and loser candidate Fred Crumpf may not be quite as dead as he left him and he and/or his crazies including his family threaten the newly elected President Woodrowmina Wilson.
Of course, Nordberg is no longer on the squad because of, well, we never talk about that...
Part XXIX…
"Gentlemen…" Marjorie from her seat eyed Dr. Emerson and Frank, Emerson trying to quickly examine Frank at his request.
"We need for you to strap in for take off…" she noted.
"All set…Lieutenant, so far as I can tell while you've taken a few blows to the old noggin, I suppose in the line of duty, no brain surgery." Emerson nodded.
Aww…Ed, watching from his seat. He insisted on being the second after Marjorie to be sure she wouldn't be embarrassed by his holding a gun on her. I tell ya I can feel the Romance.
No offense, Janey.
"Ok, all set." Frank, strapping in.
"Hello and welcome aboard Flight CS101 to Washington DC, an attendant in military fatigues spoke from up front. "Lets get those cell phones any other electrical devices turned off and I'll quickly go over a few safety rules…"
Eh, Ed thought. The kids or Edna may call, and I've never had a problem…
…
"So, ya struck out with Evita Peron…Kidding…Crumpf-Wussner…?" Smirk smirked at Goebbels-Banner after he and Evita had returned, she heading over to speak with a few South American 'old-school' Nazis earnestly insisting this new government would be the Fifth, not the Fourth Reich.
"She just wanted some info on her dad, Smirk."
"Yeah, concerned daughter is she…" Smirk grinned. "Well, just remember, she's outta ya league, doc. Money's what works with dames. Especially pampered ones like her."
Goebbels-Banner eyeing him…So says the bitterly divorced guy whose kids hate him and who very pointedly doesn't have a girl on his arm this evening, despite the millions spent on hair plugs and facial reconstruction. And whose gallant proposal to that liberal singer who supported Wilson over Crumpf was shot down in humiliating fashion on the net? At his own social media site…? That ten minute 'No, no, no, no-no, no, no…" video?
"You'd know, I guess. Excuse me." He left Smirk to rejoin Dr. Mabuse.
"Careful, my friend…" Matisse had moved to join the two scientists. "Smirk may be an oafish clown but Crumpf likes him and likes his money far more. He may well end up with a high position in the regime, especially if we succeed. And he retains significant power regardless."
"Crumpf likes his money. He doesn't like anything else about Smirk." Goebbels-Banner noted. "I'd say they're too much alike."
"I'd not say that to either of them…Wise to not to make enemies you don't have to…" Matisse shrugged. "Your father is clever there."
"A regular Lincoln, that's my dad." Goebbels-Banner nodded. Matisse offering cool smile.
"Well, take care, my young friend. Your loss would be tragic." He moved off to greet other guests.
"What is his game, Mabuse?" Goebbels-Banner turned to his companion.
"Oh, power…" Mabuse shrugged. "Like everyone else here. He's of the original Nazi families that settled here, so he considers himself a potential replacement for your father, even Crumpf himself, I'm sure." Mabuse, giggling.
"It would be wise not to underestimate him, though. Most of the original Nazis would back him, if your father ever faltered or lost favor with the Leader." Mabuse noted.
"And if Crumpf really succeeds…The whole nine yards…?"
"You know…" Mabuse giggled. "I have never understood that expression, not being a patron of American football but I suppose it means total victory? Though I thought your fields were 100 yards long so…?"
"That's about it…So?"
"Smirk, Matisse, even a few of the others wouldn't mind being a potential Crown Prince of Earth if Crumpf takes President Wilson's body." Mabuse shrugged. "Naturally, after an accident had been arranged for her husband."
"Really? Even though…?"
"This generation of Nazi/fascists/supremacists has become far more flexible in its thinking, of necessity. And even Hitler…"
"Yes, 'yellow Aryans', I know." Goebbles-Banner nodded.
"Still…However 'flexible' they are, they might be disappointed. I hear 'Dougie' Wilson is a very nice guy and a good lover." Goebbels-Banner smiled. "Who knows how Romance might go while she/he has to avoid immediate, revealing changes in his/her personality the first year?" Mabuse smiling as well.
"That would be delightfully ironic." Mabuse, giggling.
…
Hmmn…Terry thought, strapping into her seat on the window side, Jeremy beside her.
Hafta hold off on sending the explosion signal till I can get up and move closer to the fuel storage or vital control areas. And if possible, bring my dear, if clueless, lover along to seal the deal, with his own exploding phone, she smiled at Jeremy in his seat.
"You feeling better now?" she asked.
"Lots." He nodded. "But how's about you?"
"I'm fine. Say, Jeremy…" smile. "I think we ought to tell my Mom about us tonight. Maybe while we're on our way to DC? Once we can use phones? Would that be ok?"
"I've wanted to for a couple of months, you know that." He noted. "You think you're ready?"
"More than…" nod, patting his hand.
A good excuse for using the phone in midflight. And it'll be a nice way for Terry's mom to remember us…
…
"Welcome, aboard, Mister Banner." The young first mate in red and underlying white shirt and white jeans greeted Banner as he boarded his charter for the (yeah, right) three hour Hawaiian island cruise.
"Thanks, kid. Nice night developing for it, eh?" Banner smiled. "Yes, sir." The young man nodded. "The skipper wanted you to know he brought that telescope. We've got it bolted on deck."
"Great." Banner beamed. "Well, I'll find myself a seat and let you get to work."
Hmmn…She's familiar…He eyed the thirtyish tall red-head in gown at the back of the boat, looking a bit forlorn and apparently eager to keep to herself.
Of course…It's that movie actress, what's-her-name? She was just in…What was it?
Hmmn…Not being able to remember either may explain the forlorn and "keep-off" look.
"There's Banner…Crumpf's fellow." The middle-aged, very well-dressed man in, for purposes of indicating he was on vacation from his many cares, solely, straw-hat and elegant yet casual suit to his wife, a white-haired lovely woman in conservative but elegant dress, with pearls as they on the side of the boat. "You'd think one could escape these politicians on vacation at least. Don't let him see us." He urged his wife. "Crumpf may well be dead, but his organization is gasping on. Besides he might try to hit us up for a funeral donation."
"But he's not our sort of Republican, Thurston." His wife noted.
"No. But given the craven nature of the leadership these days, we've been forced to at least tolerate Crumpf and his ilk while he was doing well with the riff-raff. Why we let such people in…Labor, indeed? I'll never know. But one has to accommodate, if one's to maintain connections which can be important, you know, Lovey."
"But the man, thank goodness…Well, you know what I mean…Is dead?" she noted.
"Yes, I do and frankly I'm as glad as you are. Nasty little fellow, always reminded me of that McCarthy fellow and the German one, with the Chaplin moustache. But his followers can still potentially be a force in the Party, so we may have to speak to this fellow Banner, his minion, amiably. Possibly contribute a bit to the funeral fund. But given Crumpf's fall in popularity the last four years, not to mention his demise we shouldn't have to bother placating such fellows much longer, my dear."
"Just tell me if I must be civil to him." Lovey sighed.
Yeah, nice clear evening…Perfect for target practice…Banner reflected, moving to take a seat on deck.
That Thurston and Lovey Howell? He stared.
This little excursion and its upcoming tragic end could be even more fun than I expected….
…
"
