Episode Twenty-Five
Carlos Richman leans back in his leather chair, strokes his chin and thinks. He frowns as it occurs to him that someone has outsmarted him and released his secret documents. This makes him mad, very mad. There are shouts outside his office door – "No, you can't go in! You don't have an appointment!"
The door bursts open and in strides Lisa Treehugger who would almost beat Carlos in a frowning competition.
"I'm not leaving here until I've spoken to you," Lisa declares angrily, pointing a well chewed nail at Carlos Richman.
Meanwhile at the police station...
Marina Shady curves her body seductively against Jordan's jail cell, her sharpened rear end screaming "Look at me!"
"So, new in town are you?" Marina says, her volumised lips bouncing as she speaks.
Jordan Outsider looks at the beautiful woman standing outside his cell wondering how on earth he got there. Then Jake Cop walks in and everything becomes clear again.
"Right, you punk! You ain't gonna get away with what you did, you hear?" Sergeant Cop yells, tipping his police hat at Marina but keeping his eyes squarely on Jordan. "I don't like you and you certainly don't like me..."
"I don't even know you..." Jordan interrupts.
"SILENCE! Well by the time you do get to know me, you're gonna hate me," Sergeant Cop informs the inmate. "But right now the Chief says I gotta let you go, so scram!"
And so Jordan is released without charge and Jake Cop waddles back to his desk once he manages to take his eyes off the pointy angles of Marina's butt.
Smiling wickedly, Marina wraps her arm through Jordan's and says, "So looks like you owe me a drink."
"I do? But you didn't do anything other than pose and pout..." queries Jordan, wanting to get back and see Alexandra yet willing to spend time with this stunning supermodel.
"Everyone owes me a drink, darling," she replies. Lucky for Jordan, the only place to get any sort of food or beverage is Les Moutons where the lovely Alexandra works.
Meanwhile at the Mohammed-Piazza-Richman Mystery Mansion...
Miriam, Theresa's trustworthy maid is working hard dusting the downstairs sitting room. She looks out the window toward the spa where Theresa and Alfonso are gently caressing each other. How romantic it looks as the sun sets behind them and a plastic beach ball bounces past in the wind. But Miriam doesn't see it that way. She bites her lip and thinks back to previous events via some sort of "flashback". She remembers overhearing Alfonso serenading someone on the telephone, someone far, far away. Should Miriam tell Theresa of her concerns? Or should she take on Alfonso and see what he is hiding? Snooping is always so much fun.
And so it is decided. Miriam rushes upstairs to the bedroom and begins rummaging through Alfonso's drawers. She finds a pocketknife, a handkerchief and a rotten apple which she keeps as evidence.
"I'll catch you, Alfonso, if it is the last thing I do!"
A cuckoo clock strikes seven in the background.
Do you have a question for one of The PC characters? Perhaps you would like to find out more about Rebecca's recent facial cleanser, or Carlos's gambling habits – Just send us an email and we'll post your questions and the answers on the website!
Episode Twenty-Four
All of the oxygen in the church is sucked from the air as the entire congregation inhales in unison.
"What is going on in here?" the perfectly alive Rebecca Exwife-Richman screechs.
"Why are your mouths open? Why are we in church? Why am I sitting in a coffin? And why on earth am I wearing this horrible dress?"
Carlos rotates slowly to face his exwife. He places his hands in his pockets, frowns and reaches a conclusion.
"Rebecca, it does appear that you have died and reincarnated as some sort of low-life form, perhaps a cockroach," Carlos explains. "Please remain in your coffin until someone finds a can of flyspray."
"Died? I didn't die!" Rebecca exclaims, her pink manicured hands slapping the sides of her overpriced death box. "Are you telling me that this is my funeral?"
Rebecca looks around, nostrils flaring, extreme anger glowing through her pores. She stands up in her coffin and screws up her nose as she surveys the room.
"Is this the best you could do? Where is everyone? Why aren't there more people here?" she screams, glaring at her distressed children who have just seen their mother come back from the dead. "Who put me in this dress? I wore this dress last week! I can't wear the same dress twice! That is disgusting! Repulsive! Although I must say this coffin is a lovely shade of crimson."
Carlos stands tall, nodding, pretending to listen.
"Yes, dear. Terribly sorry. We'll do much better next time," he states matter of factly.
From her high position, Rebecca squints her eyes and searches for people in the audience.
"Oh, Malcolm Shady, you spunk of a man. How are you, sweetie?" she coos with a sparkle in her eye. "Where is that awful wife of yours? Having her lips done? Oh wait a tick, I suppose you want to know why you all thought I was dead when really I wasn't."
A murmur runs through the room as everyone realises that that would be a good thing to know.
"It is quite obvious really. I was trying out the latest in face lift technology – a liquid plastic that you paint onto your face and neck to create a younger look," explains Rebecca, demonstrating the proceedure with the help of an attractive female assistant. "After I had applied the solution, I felt awfully tired and so I had a rest on the sun lounge. Obviously the liquid plastic dried and I was unable to move my face and the handsome doctor could not feel a pulse as my skin was covered in plastic."
A sea of "oh!s" and "of course!s" fill the room and everyone feels far more knowledgable.
"The humidity in the coffin must have melted the plastic and so I can now peel it off," states Rebecca and peel it off she does. Giant lumps of plastic skin roll off her face and plop onto the floor.
"Well, show's over," declares Carlos, regaining control of the room. "Run along now everyone."
And so everyone runs along. Except no one remembers to tell Alexandra that Rebecca has returned from the dead and that all that food she has slaved over will not be eaten. But this sort news has a habit of spreading quickly.
"SHE WHAT??" Alexandra yells into the phone.
"That's right, she didn't die afterall," says some random on the other end.
Alexandra sighs and hangs up the phone. She looks at the perfectly arranged assortment of food piled on the tables surrounded by elegant decorations of white lillies and gold baubles. Lots of baubles. She picks up the phone again and dials –
"Hello, homeless person? Yes, just thought you would like to know that there is a free feed at Les Moutons for all of those less fortunates. Be sure to look as grubby as possible to make sure we know you really are homeless."
And so everything returns to normal. Rebecca is alive and well (whether or not this is a good thing, we're not so sure); Alexandra's fabulous food is going to a good cause; Jordan is still in lock up for not particular reason but we'll get back to that another time; and Carlos is able to return to work and find out who leaked his secret documents. If only he hadn't forgotten where he had left his briefcase.
Episode Twenty-Three
As the blissful sun rises and casts a new day's shadow over the city of Harbour Town, the inhabitants stretch and yawn, and with not a hair out of place they begin their day. But despite the beauty of both the dawn and the good folk of Harbour Town, there is a heavy silence washing over the city. The day has arrived to say goodbye to Rebecca Exwife-Richman in a three-hour long service with a light lunch to follow.
Alexandra Restauranter rushes about her restaurant, Les Moutons, preparing for the arrival of the funeral guests after the ceremony. Carlos had phoned her the evening prior and had asked to make a reservation:
"Hello, Les Moutons. Alexandra speaking," said Alexandra, answering the phone.
"Oh yes hello," said a strong, male voice. "My name is Carlos Richman, owner of OilyOils Imports, fiancé of Alexandra Restauranter, father of at least two, and ex-husband of a few. I wish to make a reservation for tomorrow afternoon."
"Hi Carlos. It's me, Alexandra," prompted Alexandra.
"Oh... err... yes. Of course. Alexandra... Yes, the name rings a bell," lied Carlos.
"Well I guess that will do. How many people are you making the reservation for?" inquired Alexandra, hoping Carlos was planning a romantic dinner for two. It had been a few days now since the two of them had eaten salad together. Time sure does fly.
"Well, let's see... I'll be there... and the kids will be there... and Theresa will be there... I guess she'll bring what's his face... plus those other people... I suppose I should invite the doctor despite the fact that it is his fault that I am even planning this gathering... and then I guess there will be some rent-a-crowd, so I think there will be a total of 385 people attending," answered Carlos finally.
"Say what?" said Alexandra, dumbfounded. "My restaurant is a petit and intimate setting and it only caters for 15!"
"Excellent! Sounds perfect. So you'll make and send the invitations as well? How thoughtful of you. Ok well I must dash. It was lovely to meet you, Melanie," said Carlos, hanging up the phone.
Alexandra had stayed up all night cooking for 385 people. There would be three turkeys, four ducks, six chickens and eleven turduckens. And salad. And a five-tiered cake with intricate decorations and pink icing. Alexandra didn't know why she had gone to so much bother. After all, it was only Rebecca Exwife-Richman who had died. No one in town really liked her that much anyway. Rebecca was an evil, evil woman who was always bossing people around and sticking her giant nose into other people's business. But she was also once the wife of her soon-to-be husband and she felt it her obligation to support Carlos as much as she could. Plus, everyone likes a party and think of the publicity.
Meanwhile, at the funeral...
A reasonably sized congregation sits facing a reasonably sized, and extravagantly pink coffin. Someone sneezes.
"She was a evil, evil woman," recites a priest, looking uncomfortable in his pink outfit designed especially for the occasion by Rebecca many years before she died. She was always one to think ahead. "I think we can all agree that Rebecca was loved by some, but not many. But as we sit here today, we must remember the good times, the positive contributions Rebecca made in her time on earth. The annual Pink-is-the-new-black New Year's Eve ball and the disco for the under 40s and over 30s. Both of these splendid events were developed by Rebecca Exwife-Richman and I can safely say that Harbour Town would be less eventful had these not been implemented. And so, yay for Rebecca, I guess. On that note, I call upon the richest man in Harbour Town, Mr Carlos Richman."
Carlos remains in his chair, his eyes gazing forward towards the coffin of his exwife. The socket holding his glass eye twitches. The new prosthesis is a little too small and he must remember to get it replaced. Slowly he rises, back straight and shirt tucked, and he makes his way towards the front of the church. A high pitched, girly wail echoes through the room as Benjamin Richman loses it. Carlos frowns.
"Silence! I am about to speak," Carlos informs his captive audience. "Where is Malcolm? Where is Malcolm Shady, my associate and right-hand man?"
Malcolm waves from the back.
"Oh, there you are. Listen. I don't know if you have heard, Malcolm, but someone has leaked our secret documents about the environmentally incorrect plans we have for the small island in Malaysia. I have a photo of the slime-bag who did it, and I suspect the person is in this room as we speak. So stop talking about it, they might be listening!" As Malcolm stares at Carlos in disbelief, everyone else in the room just pretends not to have heard anything. But they did hear it. They heard the biggest gossip since Rebecca Exwife-Richman's death.
Carlos clears his throat and begins to speak again, "I was married to Rebecca for a period of time and she was a terribly expensive wife. She liked to buy things that were all one specific colour, I can't for the life of me remember what that colour is though. Anyway, it isn't important. What is important is that she is dead now and I'm getting married soon. Yes, that is correct. I will be a blushing bride yet again. And so, please all raise your glasses to the death of Rebecca and the wedding of me!"
Carlos reaches into his pocket and grabs his fold-up-and-take-anywhere champagne glass and drinks the air inside it. Everyone else in the room just smiles and nods. And Rebecca Exwife-Richman, the woman lying dead in a pink coffin, sits upright and glares down the church aisle, through the door, out into the street, down the road, turn left, up the hill a bit, chucks another left, continues along until the reach the park with the children's playground, goes around the roundabout and straight ahead until you get to Les Moutons, through the front door of the restaurant and straight at Alexandra Restauranter as she removes the gladwrap from the final bowl of salad.
Numerous people faint at the funeral due to the whole "Rebecca rising from the dead" thing.
Episode Twenty-Two
Everyone in town has heard the news of Rebecca Exwife-Richman's unfortunate death. They have learnt of her bulging eyes, her frothing at the mouth and her clamy skin. Everyone in Harbour Town has rushed to the hospital to have a gander.
"Doctor Geepee, can I go and look at the dead lady?" asks Luke Restauranter innocently.
"No, Luke. I'm afraid only family members are allowed to look at the rotting corpse," announces Trent Geepee to a sea of groans of disappointment.
Carlos walks through the crowd of people, his hands behind his back and his usual expressionless face not revealing anything. He stands next to Trent and pauses.
"I would like to thank you all for coming. Rebecca suffered only briefly. I was there when she died so I would know," explains Carlos to the eager listeners. "There will be an exquist funeral this afternoon. And now I will ask you all to leave."
And so, as Carlos is the richest man in Harbour Town, everyone leaves and Carlos nods proudly as it was he who dissipated the crowd.
And then, all over Harbour Town...
"I can't believe it," exclaims Jake Cop to the caged Jordan Outsider.
"Who would have thought?" says Alfonso Mystery, scratching his human leg with his wooden replacement.
"Oh, what a shame," says Theresa Mohammed-Piazza-Richman with a hint of sarcasm.
"I hope they bury her quickly," says Alexandra Restauranter. "It would be just like her to come back from the dead.
Meanwhile, back at the hospital...
Rebecca Exwife-Richman's lifeless body is lying in a faux-jarrah coffin with gold-plated handles. Her beautiful daughter, Sophia is standing next to the body, holding the hand of her dead mother.
"Oh, Mother. We never really understood each other but we had similar interests. We both enjoy trashy romance novels and we were both yearning for a handsome man to love us in return," sobs Sophia, still feeling she can connect with her mother despite the lack of breath. "I wish you hadn't died. Although now I can get rid of the ghastly pink that haunts our house."
And on that positive note, Sophia kisses her mother on the head and leaves the room.
"You stay away from my pink couch, young lady!" says a voice. But where has that voice come from? There isn't anyone in the room apart from the body of Rebecca... oh... I see.
Episode Twenty-One
Sophia Richman stares numbly at her mother's corpse. Her bottom lip begins to shake and then come the water works.
With his head lowered, Dr Trent Geepee softly says, "Sophia, I'm so very sorry. I don't know how this happened. I blame myself of course. I am a useless doctor."
Sophia looks at the depressed doctor. All she can see is how handsome he is.
"Oh Trent! Just hold me!" Sophia exclaims, throwing herself at the strong physician.
Sophia and Trent embrace tightly. Trent's wife walks in to the room.
Meanwhile, outside in the waiting room...
Carlos Richman is hurting. As he is not one to show his emotions, he is simply expressing his pain through pacing back and forth. His newly purchased shoes are squeaking loudly and rubbing his heels. He'll need a bandaid soon; good thing he is in a hospital.
His son, Benjamin, walks towards him flaring his nostrils wildly.
"It isn't fair, Father," complains Benjamin. "Why did Mummy die?"
"I don't know, son. But I am going to find out," replies Carlos with great determination. "But right now it is our mission to create a spectacular funeral that Rebecca would be proud of. We'll have the service at the church and then all gather at Les Moutons for dinner. I'm sure Rebecca would have wanted to eat dinner at Les Moutons with Alexandra."
"I'll get right on it," says Benjamin, whipping out his mobile phone and automatically dialing the number for some obscure place that he has never phoned before.
Carlos frowns. He recalls how a few hours ago he was standing in his office perplexed and frustrated trying to learn who stole his secret documents. But now things are even worse! People are dying right before his own eyes and he still doesn't know who the evil thief is. Out of the corner of his good eye he spots his briefcase sitting perkily on one of those brown plastic chairs.
"It's time to look at that photo," he announces.
"Oh no it isn't!" rebuts a chirpy nurse. "Right now you have to get that eye looked at."
"What eye?" questions Carlos defiantly.
"Exactly!" giggles the nurse.
Looks like the briefcase has to wait...
Meanwhile, at Les Moutons where you can buy one ice lemon tea and get the second free...
"Come on, buster! You're coming with me," says Jake Cop proudly. He has nabbed his bandit. This is what he loves most about his job.
"On what grounds are you arresting me exactly?" questions Jordan Outsider.
"Disturbing the peace and for resisting arrest, Sonny-Jim. Don't you try none of your fancy foreign moves on me. You're heading straight for the lockup," says Jake with a smile.
Jordan looks helplessly at Alexandra who is trying not to laugh at stumpy Jake Cop pushing tall and lanky Jordan around.
"Maybe I should come with you to the station," offers Alexandra.
At that precise moment Marina Shady sidles in, an evil smile lurking on her lips.
"Oh no, Alex, you couldn't possibly leave your lovely restaurant. You have so many customers who want to talk to you about your fabulous food," lies Marina, wiggling her hips as she talks. "I'll look after him. Don't you worry about a thing."
"Good thinking, Marina," says Jake, trying to flirt with the woman who is twice his height and thin enough to fit in the sleeve of his shirt. "Let's get this show on the road."
And so they leave the restaurant; one new-comer, one witch and one fat policeman.
For previous episodes, please head into the archive and delve back in time...
|
