Dr. C. Cat sat in the high backed aluminum chair. His jade green eyes gave the posh bar he was sitting in, another once-over scan. It was the same stare one might give when looking inside an empty refrigerator hoping to see a juicy tidbit or morsel that one might have missed from the previous 7 searches.

Alas, the bar was still devoid of any single women. It was time to pay debt and cut his losses.

“I guess I should reup that contract,” he grumbled to himself.

The expression of the uninterested bartender quickly changed once he took the crisp 100 G-Note and gave him 50 in return. The tip was sizable for only making 2 drinks, one of which was only tonic water.

“Shall I call you a taxi, sir?” asked the now eager bartender.

The doctor noted the small dark snippets of hair on his shoulder. The tell-tale sign suggested the bartender, Matthias according to the name tag, recently received a haircut. A stark contrast to his crisp white shirt. As the bartender fumbled with the communication crystal a small bead of perspiration trickled down his forehead.

Dr. C. Cat signed and nodded, “I had too much to drink, Matthias. If would you wouldn’t mind call me a cab.”

Matthias smiled and tapped the communication crystal auto-dial feature.

“So where’s Anya?” inquired the doctor.

“Who?” Matthias replied, as he slowly adjusted his tie.

“The usual bartender who works here on lady’s night,” Dr. C. Cat quickly retorted “which seems to be devoid of ladies this particular evening, especially behind the bar.”

Matthias pointed to the window towards the street.

His wrinkle shirt slid up his arm revealing a partial tattoo with dirty/fuzzy lines that were still partially scabbed over.

“Your cab is here, sir.”

The black and yellow cab pulled up to the Cafe Rendezvous as he finished his sentence.

The dirty dented hover cab has seen better days, but tonight was not one of them. The cab was a stark contrast to the million G-note buildings.

The Doctor climbed into the taxi and carefully stated, “123 Phake Street, please.”

The cab driver pushed the button to begin the fair as he drove off quickly. The Doctor sank his head in his hand as he lost himself in thought.

***

Anna asked quietly to the others, “So if this shit’s really is legit, how in the abyss are we gonna move all da baked goods?”

“I could try an’ pull a rabbit outta my hat and push it at Herman Park ah‘gin,” I replied.

Angel Eyes shook his head, “Oh abyss no, I was dere da another day, the park is crawling with moles (undercover Commissars) and squawkers (snitches).”

Goldie slammed his hand on the table, “We need a place where we can sell this shit on our terms.”

“What ‘bout my movie theater?” Tucco threw out there.

Technically, he didn’t really own it and he only worked there as the ticket guy.

“Tucco,” Akuma blurted out “Da only reason why you even said this is cause you don’t have to get off that lazy ass of yours.”

“True dat,” he casually replied.

While everyone struggled with trying to figure out how to summon the “Good Idea Fairy” and come up with a plan, Anna was the first to break the silence.

“Speakin’ of movies, have you ever noticed that when watching a movie, sometimes they reference other movies? It’s like sayin’ to the audience that what you watched was fake, but our movie is more real. Meanwhile, it’s all fantasy and make-believe, to begin with.” Anna said.

Tucco, who could quote any more made within the past 10 years replied, “Yeah, I dink it’s a lazy way fur writers to break da 4th wall, in some cases it’s just cheap product placement, or it’s a way bad writers can feel good about the crap they write by paying homage to their betters.”

Some of us nodded in silent agreement or completely found their drinks interesting.

“Anna! You know they are gonna make a spin off Ninja Team-7?” Pakito said excitedly. “It’s gonna be called Ninja Team-3, the Bruce Saga!”

“I know, my favorite Ninja, Needjie (she looked up at me with her brown eyes) is in Team-3! I can’t wait for that shit to come out.” Anna replied.

“Kittens, we need to focus on how to push all this,” Akuma realized he was in public, lowered his voice. “The bread for our bake sale.”

Angel Eyes spoke up, “My uncle is ah janitor at the Baki Tower downtown. Da other day, I hadda cover for him when he came down from ah 7-day Up! trip. There are unused floors all over da building not even bein’ occupied.”

Pakito squeaked up, “how ‘bout we throw-ah party.”

“Someone doesn’t want us to forget their birthday’s coming up,” murmured Anna to Henna.

“There’s an idea,” I realized. “Our cover is that we are throwin’ a party for Pakito and him bein’ da newest member of North-Central Posse. We invite all the wanna-be’s and sell the stuff to them.”

“What ‘bout Tanglewood an’ da others?” Asked Blondie. "Won't they get pissed?"

“Why you gotta be a downer, dipshit?” Henna snapped back.

“I’m jus’ sayin” she responded.

“Dat’s da easy part,” I suggested. “We declare an open party. No fees to our people cause they will be workin’. 5 G-notes fee to all da outsider thugs an’ 7 G’s to anyone else. No weapons, no trouble.” I followed up with.

“We gotta clear it with Main Street if we wan’ it to be neutral,” Akuma said, finally happy to be part of the conservation.

Some how we finally come to some kind of consensus. Anna and I were going to head home to get the kitchen ready. Tucco, Pakito and Angel Eyes would check out the supplies. Akuma and Henna would get a license from Main Street.

Finally, the twins would meet up with Angel Eyes, and Pakito to scout out the Baki Tower. Meanwhile, Tucco would go back home and play lazy cat before he would go sleep at work. He mentioned something about corns on his foot, and too much walking around at his old age of 22.

***

On the way back to the house, Anna asked for more details about what happened when I slid out of my body. For once she listened intently and didn’t interrupt, except when I got to the further details about dad being knighted.

“If that’s true,” I told her. “Den’ we were lookin’ for his info in the wrong place. We shoulda been lookin’ in da Records for Roylies, not for Da Commoner Records.”

“WE?!?!?” she complained. “You never had any interest in dad. I was da one who was snoopin’ around an’ askin’ shit!”

Her complaint was followed up with a punch in the arm. I deserved that.