I mean, it wasn't perfect of course. Admittedly, I did sorta keep getting into tight spots with Mal DaPone and his gang (mostly a bunch of humorless sidhe who snuck through the trans-Mavalarkkian portal when the guards were out to tea, but I suspect they've got a few other magical folk working for them as well). And Mal is not exactly a warm teddybear - he collects thumbs as a hobby, for one thing. Course, I always got away in the end, but there were a few near misses. I found the human gangsters out in Chicago to be much more fun.
You know that fella, what's-his-name, that guy with the fancy armored car and the sour mug; you know, the fella what celebrated Valentine's Day with a double-cross and a shoot-out? Al something-or-other (told you I was no good with names - I can remember magical folks pretty well, but those human names always trip me up). Anyhow, he was loads of fun to play with. Used to gum up his works all the time. I think I told you about the dingerlywhimsy fun I used to have changing the stuff in the bottles at speakeasies. Well sir, I had more fun than just that, let me tell you!
My favorite thing was to come up on gangsters about to mow one another down with their tommy guns. Just when they let 'em loose, I'd blink my eyes and twitch my nose, give a little tug at the ole adam's apple, and whisper a couple of words. Next thing you know, they're shooting each other with rat droppings. Hee hee hee, what a joke! Sometimes I'd use sheep manure instead. Took those thugs hours to scrub off that perfume, let me tell you. Sure did make them mad, too! Then off course I'd undo it before long, so they'd have real ammunition again. Used to make their bosses completely bamboozled; they'd yell and cuss about it, but never could figure out what had happened.
Boy, I really tormented that Al guy. Used to bewitch his alarm clock to sound like sirens or a firing squad or a female dragon in heat. You know, sorta give him a more effective wake up call. Well sir, he wasn't anywhere near as brave as folks give him credit for. Messed his pajama bottoms more than one morning, let me tell you! And screamed like Fay Wray (course, no one had heard her scream yet in those days, what with the talkies not being around yet)! I got him in trouble with the wife a few times, too - put a kissing spell on his razor so it'd leave blotches of lipstick on his face and neck when he shaved, hid a real flamboyant brassiere under her pillow twice (made sure it was bigger in a few respects than hers was, just to play with the old gal's confidence a bit), and even called up his vacation house a few times and talked with the wife in a real sultry female voice. Hee hee hee! Boy could she crown ole Al when she got her dander up!
Boy, I sure do miss Al. It was real sad when he got sloppy on the income tax and got himself pinched. I lost one of my favorite playthings that day.
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