Well, the sales feller point to a couple of racks of dresses an say there might be somethin in there her size, so Raquel Welch go over an begin to look thru the dresses.
“An is there somethin I can do for you gentlemen?” the feller says to me an Sue.
“We is just with her,” I say. I look back, an the crowd is all gathered outside, noses pressed to the winder.
Raquel Welch took about eight or nine dresses into the back an tried them on. After a wile she come out an say, “What do you think about this one?” It is a sort of brown-lookin dress with a bunch of belts an loops all over it an a low neckline.
“Oh, I’m not so sure, dear,” say the salesman, “somehow it—it just isn’t
“I’ll take it,” say Raquel Welch, an the salesman say, “Fine—how would you like to pay for it?”
“What do you mean?” she axed.
“Well, cash, check, credit card?” he say.
“Look you bozo—can’t you see I don’t have anything like that with me? Where the hell do you think I’d
“Please, madam—don’t let’s be vulgar,” the salesman say.
“I am Raquel Welch,” she tell the man. “I will send somebody around here to pay you later.”
“I am terribly sorry, lady,” he say, “but we don’t do business that way.”
“But I’m
“Listen lady,” the man say, “half the people that come in here say they are Raquel Welch or Farrah Fawcett or Sophia Loren or somebody. You got any ID?”
“ID!” she shout. “Where do you think I would keep ID?”
“No ID, no credit card, no money—no dress,” say the salesman.
“I’ll prove who the hell I am,” Raquel Welch say, an all of a sudden she pull down the top of the dress. “Who else is got tits like these in this one-horse town!” she screech. Outside, the crowd all be beatin on the winders an hollerin an cheerin. But the salesman, he punched a little button an some big guy what was the security detective come over an he say, “Okay, your asses is all under arrest. Come along quietly an there won’t be no trouble.”
23
So here I am, thowed in jail again.
After the security feller corralled us at Giani’s, two carloads of cops come screamin up an this one cop come up to the salesman an say, “Well, what we got here?”
“This one says she’s Raquel Welch,” the salesman say. “Come in here wearin a bunch of banana leaves an wouldn’t pay for the dress. I don’t know bout these other two—but they look pretty suspicious to me.”
“I
“Sure, lady,” the cop say. “An I am Clint Eastwood. Why don’t you go along with these two nice fellers here.” He point to a couple of other cops.
“Now,” says the head cop, an he be lookin at me an Sue, “what’s your story?”
“We was in a pitcher,” I says.
“That why you’re wearin that creature suit?” he axe.
“Yup,” I says.
“An what bout him?” he say, pointin to Sue. “That’s a pretty realistic costume, if I say so myself.”
“Ain’t no costume,” I says. “He’s a purebread orangutang.”
“Is that so?” the cop say. “Well I’ll tell you what. We got a feller down to the station who makes pitchers, too, an he would love to get a couple of shots of you clowns. So you jus come along too—an don’t make no sudden moves.”
Anyhow, Mister Tribble has got to come down an bail me out again. An Mister Felder showed up with a whole platoon of lawyers to git out Raquel Welch, who by this time is hysterical.
“You jus wait!” she shriek back at me as they turnin her loose. “When I git finished, you won’t be able to find a job as a spear carrier in a nightmare!”
In this, she is probly correct. It look like my movie career is over.
“That’s life, baby—but I’ll call you for lunch sometime,” Mister Felder says to me as he is leavin. “We’ll send somebody by later to pick up the creature suit.”
“C’mon, Forrest,” say Mister Tribble. “You and I have got other fish to fry.”
Back at the hotel, Mister Tribble an me an Sue is settin in our room havin a conference.
“It is going to pose a problem, with Sue here,” Mister Tribble says. “I mean, look how we had to sneak him up the stairs and everthin. It is very difficult to travel with an orangutan, we have to face that.”
I tole him how I felt bout Sue, bout how he saved my ass more than once in the jungle an all.
“Well, I think I understand your feelings,” he says. “And I’m willing to give it a try. But he’s going to have to behave himself, or we’ll be in trouble for sure.”
“He will,” I say, an ole Sue be noddin an grinnin like a ape.
Anyhow, nex day is the big chess match between me an the International Grand Master Ivan Petrokivitch, also known as Honest Ivan. Mister Tribble have taken me to a clothes store an rented me a tuxedo on account of this is to be a big fashionable deal, an a lot of muckity-mucks will be on han. Furthermore, the winner will get ten thousan dollars, an my haf of that ought to be enough to get me started in the srimp bidness, so I cannot afford to make no mistakes.
Well, we get to the hall where the chess game is to take place an there is bout a thousan people millin aroun an already settin at the table is Honest Ivan, glarin at me like he’s Muhammad Ali or somebody.
Honest Ivan is a big ole Russian feller with a high forehead, jus like the Frankenstein monster, an long black curly hair such as you might see on a violin player. When I go up an set down, he grunt somethin at me an then another feller say, “Let the match begin,” an that was it.
Honest Ivan is got the white team an he get to make the first move, startin with somethin call The Ponziani Opening.
I move nex, using The Reti Opening, an everthin is goin pretty smooth. Each of us make a couple of more moves, then Honest Ivan try somethin known as The Falkbeer Gambit, movin his knight aroun to see if he can take my rook.
But I seed that comin, an set up somethin called The Noah’s Ark Trap, an got his knight instead. Honest Ivan ain’t lookin none too happy but he seem to take it in stride an employed The Tarrasch Threat to menace my bishop.
I ain’t havin none of that, tho, an I thowed up The Queen’s Indian Defense an that force him to use The Schevenigen Variation, which lead me to utilize The Benoni Counter.
Honest Ivan appear to be somewhat frustrated, an was twistin his fingers an bitin on his lower lip, an then he done tried a desperation move—The Fried Liver Attack—to which I applied Alekhine’s Defense an stopped his ass cold.
It look for a wile like it gonna be a stalemate, but Honest Ivan, he went an applied The Hoffman Maneuver an broke out! I look over at Mister Tribble, an he sort of smile at me, an he move his lips an mouth the word “
You see, they was a couple of tricks Big Sam taught me in the jungle that was not in the book an now was the time to use them—namely, The Cookin Pot Variation of The Coconut Gambit, in which I use my queen as bait an sucker that bastid into riskin his knight to take her.
Unfortunately, it didn’t work. Honest Ivan must of seen that comin an he snapped up my queen an now my ass is in trouble! Nex I pull somethin called The Grass Hut Ploy, in which I stick my last rook out on a limb to fool him, but he wadn’t fooled. Took my rook an my other bishop too, an was ready to finish me off with The Petroff Check, when I pulled out all the stops an set up The Pygmie Threat.
