Two relatively innocent looking people were sitting on a bench outside of the Fourside Department Store. ("They must be guilty," you are probably sitting at your computer saying, "or why would you say they looked innocent?" Touché, I reply, although I can have only so much respect for someone who speaks aloud to their computer.) One was a gangly, pale figure, at the moment wearing ugly ReyBan sunglasses and a Runaway 5 T-Shirt. Presently he had an ancient looking cell phone pressed to his ear. Sitting next to him was a heavy fellow wearing a "Pirkle for President 198x" T-Shirt, the Onett mayor's mug, complete with hair, staring out. He was, at this moment, eating a slice of cheese and grease pizza, his favorite flavor.

"...So, where is dis' thing?" The gangly one said, mid-conversation. "And its ours? Okay, tankies a bundle. G'bye."

"Biff..." The gangly one said, turning to face the fat one.

"Yeah boss?" He replied in a deep bass with a heavy lisp.

"I gots me a tip off on some easy loot...it should make us a pretty penny!"

"Okay, boss."

"To the Conmobile!"

"Yeah, boss."

The Conmobile was actually a rusty old AMC Pacer that was at one time painted red. It had torn up seatcovers, several "I stop for nobody" bumper stickers, which actually held the frame together, and carried most of their possessions, the rest of which were inside their "HQ," a rented garage with two beds and a 13" "ColorTastic!" TV from the mid 70's. But I digress.

The person who had tipped Vinnie, the gangly one, off about this thing had said it was somehwere inside Jackie's Café, which was currently closed. All the better. The Pacer rattled to a stop just outside of the old brick building. Vinnie opened the door and walked out, with Biff following.

He pulled out a straightened paperclip and attempted to work the lock open. "Agh, look like Jackie wised up and fixed his door. You know what to do, Biff."

"Yeah, boss." The big guy said, running into the door head first in a manner not unlike a medieval battering ram. (One of the many reasons he didn't say much.) It shook off of the hinges. Vinnie pushed it open, and with a smug look on his face, said: "Aren't you glad you have me around to do things like this, Biff?"

"Yeah, boss."

The bar's lights were off, so the faint colors of the jukebox flowed eerily around the unlit room. The old floorboards creaked as the two walked in. A record hummed, just barely audible over the chirping of the crickets.

"Huh...He said it was in the closet...Where in de heck is dat?"

"'Ey Boss, lookit dis wa--" Biff began.

Vinnie was taken aback. "Hey! Do I pay youse to talk? NO! I pay youse to hit things hard! I'm da brains, you're the...the guy that hits stuff HARD!"

"Okay, Boss, but..."

"Ahem? Did you hear me just now? I am trying to find dis closet!"

"But Boss...!" He said. Vinnie was about to interrupt, but Biff suddenly remembered that, while he wasn't the greatest talker, he was much better at another way of getting his point across. He smashed a crack in the wall he had noticed. A large hole opened up.

"Hey Biff, I've found it! Come through this hole!"

"Okay Boss. I wish I woulda seed dat."

"'Ey, Biff, that's what I'm here for!"

Vinnie drew a flashlight out of his jacket and flipped it on. "Huh, nuttin but boxes...Now where's dis loot?" Suddenly his flashlight fell upon a hole in an old crate. Something inside it gleamed! He ran over and lifted the top. What in the name of...?

A statue. A crummy old statue! He had gone across town in a Pacer for a crummy old statue. He was ashamed of himself. "What in da heck was I thinking? I never could trust 'dem East Siders anyways..." He said, referring to the person that had tipped them off. Dejectedly, he lifted the statue out of its crate. Gold? He tapped it, and sighed. Hollow. What a waste of a perfectly good night.

"Ah, we might as well take it. Mebbe we can trade it for an 8 Track Playa' 'er sometin'. 'Dat other one's on its last legs, and I dunno 'ow long I can take it widdout my BeeGees music." He said, totally serious.

As Vinnie and Biff went to bed that night, the worthless golden statue sat on the nightstand/miniature refrigerator, refracting a small amount of light in the dark garage. Vinnie rolled around on his bed dreaming of a pool full of hundred dollar bills, as he did every night, while Biff dreamed about...well...In any case, the night was uneventful.

The next morning Vinnie woke up feeling strangely refreshed. In his usual gentle manner he pushed Biff off of his bed, (which required some effort, I must say,) and prepared breakfast.

"Hey boss, what're we havin' today?"

"Corn Pops and Pop-Tarts."

"My favorite! Tanks boss."

They ate and discussed their schedule for today. They had to, first and foremost, prepare for the big day tomorrow, EB No Matsuri! Easy pickins day; people were all either A) Opening presents, B) Drunk, or C) Drunk to the point of where you could almost lift a couch while they were sitting on it. First, of course, they needed costumes to fit into the many costume parties that happened in Eagleland for EB No Matsuri.

"So, Biff, whaddya bein' for this year?"

"It's a surprise, boss."

"Well, I have decided to go as my idol."

"Mayor Pirkle?"

"No, the other great thief of our time: Everdread!"

"Wow, great idea, boss."

"Also, after plenty of scoutin', I've found the poifect place fer us to hit! 'Dere's gonna be a huge party in Threed in an' around the Circus tent! And da grand finale...Enrich Flava's gonna be there! That guy is loaded!"

Enrich Flavor's office sat on the top floor of Eagleland's tallest builidng, which he owned. He was planning to unveil his plans for a new office tower, which he called, quite originally according to his yes men, 2 Enrich Flavor Building, on EB No Matsuri. That would definitely boost his approval rating! "It will create jobs!" He could say, without lying at all. Of course, he didn't have to mention that they'd be custodial and minimum wage jobs. Ah, it was great to be rich.

*knock knock* "Mr. Flavor, Mr. Flavor!" Enrich waited. "I mean, Mr. Flavor, King of the Business World and Owner of Foursiiiiiide!" The person at the door added in a singsong voice.

"Yes...?"

"Well, sir, the park people are here about your new skyscraper, again!"

"Send them in..." He snarled.

His secretary ran away and soon two people dressed in GreenPieces outfits entered Flavor's office. "You know..." the first one began, "that bearskin rug is a horrendous display of animal murder."

"Yes, and?"

The other one, who wasn't so bright, added: "You'll...uh...put a hole in the i-Zone layer!"

"Mm. So, what exactly was it you came to see me about?" He said, spraying aerasol out the window as he always did to annoy environmentalists. The smart one began to speak. "We have a problem with the building you're planning in the place of Fourside Park." "I believe I've gone over this with you, already. I bought the land, I've had it approved by City Council...It's much more beautiful than any old park, anyway...The marble statue of Yours Truly on the outside, the art deco design, the--" The smart GreenPiecer interceded "Pollution, the crime, the--" "Nice bonus under your Christmas tree for shutting up?" "We can build a park somewhere else..." The smart one hastily finished his conference with Flavor and dragged his partner out with him. Ah, it's great to be rich, he thought, as he went over his speech for a final time.