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Message-ID: <33709asstr$1006902605@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: jimmy@jimmy-hat.com (Jimmy Hat)
Subject: {ASSM} Maytag, Where Are You? 1/3 (MMF MFF bond best?)  
Date: Tue, 27 Nov 2001 18:10:05 -0500
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This work contains graphic depictions of sex acts.
Please do not continue if this makes you uncomfortable,
or violates laws in your part of the world.

This story is Copyright 2001 by Jimmy Hat (jimmy@jimmy-hat.com)
----------------------------------------------------------------------

MAYTAG, WHERE ARE YOU?


Autumn rain can be so brutal in the Midwest that people look
forward to simple fluffy snow again. Maytag and Stanton had only the
skin of a rental car and its heating system to protect them from
the cold rain pounding the ground around the stationary vehicle.
Through the wiping of the windshield blades, they watched cars go
by. Agent Maytag looked through his binoculars and scanned
oncoming traffic for one van in particular. 

"Tell me why we're here again," Stanton asked. 

"Interstate teen prostitution ring," Maytag answered flatly. 

Stanton cradled the coffee cup in her hands to savor the warmth.
"No, I know that. How do you know about this little traveling
show?" 

Maytag took a sip of his coffee. "I told you," he said. "An
informant tipped me off." 

"Keep going," Stanton said. 

"Someone forwarded him something and he passed it on to me." 

"See, this is what you never explained to me in your rush to get
out here. You told me there was a set of teen prostitutes
traveling cross country, spreading evil in their wake." 

Maytag interrupted: "I believe I said 'spreading licentiousness in
their wake.'" 

"Fine," Stanton replied. "You convinced me to come out here to
Kansas, of all places, to intercept them, and here we are. Only
now I'm cold, it's pouring outside, and I still haven't seen this
thing." 

"It's on my computer. Would you like me to describe it to you?" 

"Yes." 

"OK, it's a multimedia file. Starts out as a standard didvid." 

"A what?" 

"A didvid," Maytag answered. "DID, Dee-Eye-Dee stands for Damsel
in Distress. A video clip that captures the bound, helpless,
Damsel in Distress in the clutches of the villain is called a
did-vid. Get it? Didvid!" 

"I'm worried about you, Maytag. Maybe it's time you put in for a
new assignment." 

"But we make such a good team, Stanton," Maytag said, saluting
her with a lift of his coffee cup. "Anyway, the didvid opens with
this silhouette of a girl, hourglass figure, tied up and on her
side. Looming above her is the mad scientist villain: crazy gray
hair going everywhere, thick rubber gloves on, and horn-rimmed
glasses with thick lenses to match. Then the camera turns and we
see the girl is a redhead wearing a purple barrette, green scarf,
purple dress, and pink stockings." 

"Do I really need details at this point?" Stanton asked him. 

"No," Maytag admitted. "Besides not much else happens. The point
is to show the damsel in distress. Her skirt comes up a lot, and
we get a lot of skin, but that's it. That's not the point,
though. Are you sure you don't know that outfit: redhead, green
barrette, purple dress, pink stockings? Doesn't that sound
familiar?" 

"Not really, Maytag." 

"Think 70s. Think cartoons." 

"Sorry, Maytag, I haven't been keeping up on my cartoons." 

"Mystery solving gang?" he hinted to no response. "Talking dog 
who always seems to have the munchies?" Exasperated, Maytag sang 
the theme song. 

"Oh!" Stanton said. "Yeah, of course I know that show. But keep
singing, you sound great, partner." 

"Ha! I sing better than you lie." 

"No you don't," came Stanton's quick reply. "I remember that
outfit, now. You know if you watched carefully, you would see
that sometimes her barrette would change color from scene to
scene." 

"How about that?" Maytag asked. "Here I thought it funny that
they never changed clothes, and you notice when it happens by
accident." Stanton lifted her coffee cup in mock salute. 

"Anyway," Maytag continued, "When the camera on the didvid was
finished feeling up our heroine, the words 'Coming to Your Town'
showed up on the screen. The words linked to a list of dates and
places. They're taking the show on the road, Stanton. We're here
to catch up and investigate." 

"So you have no evidence that any prostitution is going on, do
you?" 

Maytag lowered the binoculars and turned to look at Stanton. The
only sound was the hammering of heavy raindrops on the car. He
lifted his field glasses again to watch the road. "Not really,"
he said. 

"So we're pretty much out here so you can see a redhead in pink
stockings, aren't we?" asked Stanton. 

"I saw the didvid," Maytag said. "I read the email that
accompanied it. It sounded like teen prostitution to me. I'm sure
of it. At the very least, it's worth a look." 

"One more thing," Stanton said. "Why are you so sure we'll see
them come by here?" 

"Two reasons," Maytag answered. "The first is that we know their
last stop was in Manhattan, Kansas, and this spot is on the way
to the next date." 

"And the second?" 

Maytag put down his binoculars and shifted the car into drive.
"The second reason is I just saw them." 

As the pair of agents made their way from the parking lot, a van
drove by, painted green and blue. There were orange letters on
the side panel near the rear, but Maytag couldn't read them. He
concentrated on the wet road, and put the windshield wipers on
their fastest setting. 

"Were you able to read the van?" Maytag asked. 

"Couldn't make it out," Stanton answered. "Nice flowers on the
back, though. Very seventies." 

Maytag focused on the road. He grew nervous about trying to
follow the van in the hard rain. The road was a two lane state
route, not interstate highway. 

"They're driving fast," Stanton said. 

"Yeah, I was just thinking that," Maytag replied. 

The agents kept quiet as they pursued the psychedelic van. Maytag
gripped the wheel with both hands, and kept his foot half off the
accelerator. Wipers kept fast time, whoosh, whoosh, as they
rocketed down the road. Flat Kansas stretched out on either side
of them, rain driving across its face and the two-lane asphalt 
scar that ran along it. 

The van swerved, just a bit. The back side moved from one side of
the lane to the other, as if it were shaking its ass at them. The
brake lights winked at them. 

"Maytag," Stanton said. 

"I see it," Maytag said. His foot was off the accelerator and the
car slowed a bit. They were catching up, now, closing distance.
The swerving stopped as abruptly as it had started. 

"What do you think is wrong?" Stanton asked. She got no answer. 

Either Maytag saw it all at once, or his mind tricked him into
remembering it that way later. He noticed the van sitting lower
on one side and saw a spark where maybe the rim poked through the
flat tire and grabbed the road. The brake lights went on and
stayed on, at least until the van had slid sideways and he was
looking at the side rather than the rear. 

Although Maytag had started braking long before, the van had as
well. There was not enough room to stop. Training took over. Any
attempt to swerve around the van could cause him to lose all
control. They could roll over easily. Instead of trying to avoid
the van, Maytag drove the car straight at it. 

Outside the car someone might have heard the crash of glass and
the crunch of metal. All Maytag and Stanton heard was a solid
whump as they were thrown forward. Seat belts saved them from
injury but they were dazed. 

"Are you OK?" Maytag asked. 

Stanton cleared the hair from her face and took a deep breath.
"Yeah," she said. She looked up at the van. The crushed hood of
their own vehicle stopped her from seeing the damage done to the
van. She could see those orange letters painted on to the blue
and green background of the van. "I'm fine," she said. "And I can
read what the van says now. The Sleuth Sloop." 

"I can't see anything," Maytag replied. "I can't really hear
either." The air bag completely filled his field of view. The
loud whump they heard was the sudden change in pressure when the
bag deployed. 

Stanton released her seat belt and got out of the car. Maytag
stumbled out of the car. He was still a little stunned. He didn't
see that Stanton had taken out a cell phone, couldn't hear her
curse when she could not get a signal. Raindrops assaulted him,
but he paid no mind to the shower. He did not notice that their
car was crumpled in front, but the van was simply dented. When
the driver of the van got out and asked if they were OK, he paid
him no attention. 

All he noticed was the redhead girl in the purple dress and pink
pantyhose that ran to his side. She had a heart shaped face and
large round black eyes. A green scarf circled her neck, and a
lilac barrette held the long red hair from her face, even as it
was growing wet and falling flat to her head. 

She rested a hand on her hip and asked him if he was OK. He
responded with one word, to which she laughed. 

"Close," she said smiling. "Call me Dymphna." 

That's when he collapsed. 

* * * 

The last thing Maytag remembered before blacking out was that
pretty face, smiling in the rain. When he came to, the first
thing he was aware of was wet kisses on his face. He reached out
to grab a hand full of her deliciously long locks, but instead
found only short hairs and a bony skull. 

Maytag opened his eyes and saw a large dog's head close to his.
Its pink carpet of a tongue unfurled and lapped at this face
before disappearing again. 

"Sloopy!" someone yelled. It seemed Maytag's hearing was back,
too. The dog lifted its head and walked away. 

"Like, hey, man, are you all right?" A young guy with unruly
brown hair and a tangle of thin hairs on his chin looked down at
Maytag. The dog had a better looks than this guy. At least he
wasn't licking his face. "Sorry about that, man, Sloop Dog was
just trying to help you out." 

"Here, sir, let us help you up." The second guy was the same age
as the other, but that was about it for similarities. He had
short hair, broad shoulders, a massive chest, and a jaw as square
and jutting as the dog's. The two lifted Maytag to his feet, but
it was clear that Blondie did most of the work. 

"Thanks, fellas," Maytag said. 

"Here, guys," said a girl with dark hair, and square, thick black
glasses that rested on a freckled face. "Put these on so you
don't get sick." She handed the three of them transparent plastic
ponchos, like the one she was already wearing. Maytag saw through
the rain gear that she wore a red pleated skirt and an orange
turtleneck sweater with knee high socks to match. 

"You too, Sloop," she said as she adjusted a sheet of plastic
around the great Dane. 

He looked around at the gang, who looked back at him. The big guy
had donned his poncho, but Maytag saw that he wore blue slacks, a
white V-neck sweater, and a ridiculous looking orange ascot. The
thin, scruffy one wore a pair of brown bell bottoms and an olive
drab t-shirt. He struggled to put on his poncho. 

"Like, I can't breathe!" 

"That's because you have the poncho on backwards, Shagger," said
the girl with the glasses. "Here, let me." 

They were exactly how Maytag remembered the show. Behind him he
heard Stanton say, "The police are on the way. Tow truck, too." 

He turned and saw his partner and the redhead together, wearing
the same style ponchos. The redhead said, "We used the CB in the
Sleuth Sloop." 

"Good work, girls," said the big blonde. "Now let's set up some
flares to warn other motorists." 

They went into action. The girls worked from the back of the van
to hand flares to the guys. Even the dog took one in its mouth,
which was promptly delivered to Maytag. 

Maytag and the big guy struck their flares and placed them on the
road. The skinny kid lit the end closest to his palm and dropped
it. "Like, ouch!" he yelled, to which everyone else just laughed. 

Stanton moved to Maytag's side. "This is absolutely
unbelievable!" she said. "They're exactly like the..." 

"...the cartoon," Maytag finished her sentence. 

Their private conversation was interrupted when the dog bounded
to them, followed by the rest of the gang. 

"We never really introduced ourselves," said the big guy. "I'm
Ted." 

"Thelma," said the girl with the glasses. 

"Dymphna," said the redhead. 

"And, like, I'm the Shagger!" the skinny kid hailed them with a
wave of the hand, as the Great Dane stood up on two legs and
pawed at his shoulders. "This is Sloopy Dog." 

"I'm Special Agent Gerry Maytag." 

"And I'm Special Agent Heather Stanton." 

"Like, wow, Sloop!" the Shagger said. "Real G-Men!" 

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Agents," said Thelma. 

"Sorry about our blowout," said Ted. "I hope we haven't kept you
from your duties." 

Stanton began to speak. "As a matter of fact--" 

"No trouble," Maytag interrupted her. "We're just glad everyone
is OK. And I'm sorry about your van." 

Stanton smiled and said, "You know you guys look awfully like--" 

This time it was the guys and girls who interrupted her, and in
unison. "Don't say it!" 

Thelma said, "We're just a small performing group trying to see
the country and make a little money for college." 

Ted continued, "Any likeness between us and other people, live or
dead, real or fictional, is purely coincidence." 

Dymphna put a fist on one hip and wagged her finger. "And don't
make us repeat it!" 

"Like, what they said," added the Shagger. The dog barked. 

Maytag and Stanton looked at each other and then back at the
group. Stanton pressed, "Well, the resemblance is amazing.
Even your names are close. And isn't Thelma the exact name?" 

"No," Maytag corrected her. "But I think most people never get
that straight." 

"Look, gang!" Ted called. "It's the police!" 

The blue and red lights of the sheriff's patrol car, and the
yellow lights of a wrecker, grew larger as they approached. When
they arrived, the sheriff's deputy took command. The wrecker
maneuvered to back up to the van. A man in faded denim overalls
climbed from the cab. He wore a red baseball cap and had a bushy gray
mustache.

As he readied the van for towing, the deputy took statements and
filled forms. When he finished he told them what they were lucky.
"Earl here not only has his garage, but the closest rooms for the
night. Just let him take care of you until he can fix the flat on
that van, and until the FBI can arrange for transport for the two
of you." 

"How long will that take, Agent Maytag?" Thelma asked. 

"By tomorrow, probably," he answered. 

"Are you two OK here?" the deputy asked. "I'd like to run the
rest of these youngsters over to Earl's in my car, so we can get
them there in one trip. Earl will come back to tow your vehicle
and drive you to his place." 

"That'll be fine," Stanton said. 

"See you guys at Earl's," Ted called before the flashing lights
moved away, leaving Maytag and Stanton in the rain. 

"That's just great," Maytag said as they drove away. "Now we'll
be buried in red tape. Worse, they know we're agents. We'll never
be able to sting their operation." 

Stanton laughed. 

"What's so funny?" 

"You," she answered. "Standing in the rain with a plastic parka
on, convinced that this group of college students is involved in
a prostitution ring, and upset that you've been made before you
can catch them in the act." 

"I'm not upset," Maytag said. "I'm simply concerned about our
investigation." 

"Whatever you say, Maytag. Here's our ride." 

* * * 

Earl had comically long gray hair and a droopy mustache to match,
and would only respond to questions with one word responses. If
they could be called words, that is. They sounded more like
"resh" and "nofe". After the ride, Maytag amused his partner by
commenting, "I thought it was that dog that was supposed to talk
that way." 

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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