Long Shot

parrot by tomorrow?”

“Whoa, guys,” Bob said, stepping into the middle of the crowd. “Not to worry. I’m sure our friend here, Jupiter Jones, would be honored to be your mascot.”

Jupe aimed his eyes like flamethrowers at Bob. “Are you out of your mind? No way!”

Bob ignored Jupe’s angry stare. “Let me reason with him a minute,” he told the cheerleaders. He pulled Jupe quickly away from the group.

Jupe muttered under his breath, “Have you gone certifiably insane? I do not do cartwheels. I do not jump. And I would rather go to graduation in my underwear than wear a stupid fuzzy purple and green parrot costume!”

“Will you lighten up about fifty notches!” Bob said “Don’t you want to solve this case?”

“What’s that got to do with anything in the Western civilized world?” Jupe said, astounded.

“Jupe, I said we’d get a break. Well, it’s only a sprain, but let’s not get technical. This is the perfect disguise! The parrot practices with the cheerleaders and hangs around the basketball team. Tell me that’s not the perfect undercover setup. How can you say no?”

Jupe didn’t say no. All he said was “Absolute total humiliation.”

* * *

Jupe and Bob rode back to Bob’s house in absolute total silence. As soon as Bob stopped the car, Jupe got out and went straight to the kitchen. He was already digging through the Andrews’ freezer when Bob caught up.

“Where are the microwave hot-fudge sundaes?” Jupe asked.

“Jupe, you told me to hide them from you.”

“Well, now I’m telling you to unhide them from me,” Jupe said. “Aha!” He reached into the farthest corner of the upright freezer and pulled out a package of ice cream sundaes. He practically threw two sundaes into the microwave.

“Jupe, what about your half-portion diet?”

“No problem. I’m only going to eat one of them,”

Jupe said with a maniacal smile. He set the timer on the oven and pushed start.

Bob reached for the phone and hit number two on auto-dial. “Pete, it’s Bob. Get over here fast. It’s a binge alert!”

In less time than it took the microwave to thaw the hot-fudge sundaes, Pete arrived.

“How’d you get here so fast?” Bob said as Pete charged through the door.

“Hey, the Ark has a V-8 engine,” Pete said.

“Yeah,” Bob said, “but it drives like it’s running on V8 juice.”

Pete laughed and spied the hot-fudge sundaes in the microwave. “Hey, thanks, guys,” he said. He had one half-eaten by the time he reached the table and swung his leg over to sit down backward on a chair. “What’s the crisis?”

Bob answered. “I volunteered Jupe to be the Shoremont mascot at the basketball game tomorrow night. He’s got to wear a parrot costume.”

“He said honored. He said I’d be honored to be their parrot,” Jupe moaned.

“Jupe, I don’t think this parrot bit is such a bad idea,” Bob said. “I mean, look how we hung around Duggan’s office after Steve’s accident and got asked to leave. But if you’re the parrot, you have a perfect excuse to hang around all the time. No one will question you. And that’s when we’ll strike!”

“Fine,” Jupe said. “I see the investigative possibilities. But what am I going to do at the game? I don’t do back flips, front flips, cartwheels, handstands, or splits. Have you guys got any constructive suggestions?”

“Sure, Jupe,” Bob said with a straight face. “Why don’t you just do what parrots always do?”

“What’s that?”

“Stand around making nasty comments while you preen and molt!”

7 Polly Want a Cracked Head?

 “This is let’s talk sports for a Thursday night. It’s 7:20 and I’m Al Windsor,” said the radio announcer. “Back to our phones in a minute.”

Instantly commercials started playing on Pete’s car radio. Bob started singing along, and Jupe started grumbling from the back seat. “Al Windsor? That’s the guy who’s teaching my college speech class. Lose him! Let’s listen to the news.” He ruffled feathers on the Shoremont parrot costume next to him.

“Come on, Jupe, this is my favorite call-in show,” Pete said. “And anyway, we’ll be at the Shoremont gym in a minute.”

“Okay,” said Al Windsor, coming back on the air, “I’ve got Sam on the line from Hermosa Beach. How ya doin’, Sam? Let’s Talk Sports.”

“Hi, Al. I’m doing fine,” said the caller. “Listen, Al, I wanted to ask you about the Shoremont-Costa Verde basketball game tonight.”

“Big game, a must-win situation for both teams,” Al Windsor commented.

“Yeah, I know,” the caller said. “But did you see the paper this morning? I mean, the Costa Verde coach — Bernie Mehl — was really laying into Shoremont’s Coach Duggan.”

“Yeah, I saw that,” Al Windsor answered. “You’re talking about the big headline where Bernie Mehl said, and I quote, ‘Coach Duggan will do anything to win — and I mean anything’ ”

“Right,” the caller said. “Now, what’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well, Sam, I can’t crawl into Bernie Mehl’s head,” Al Windsor said. “But it doesn’t take a genius to figure out he’s bringing up those ugly rumors again — the ones about Coach Duggan paying his players a few years ago. It was a big scandal back in Boston, but nobody ever proved anything. And Duggan has been one terrific coach. My guess is, Bernie’s just trying to stir up a little trouble. We’ll see if he gets it tonight.”

Pete slapped the dashboard with his right hand and the radio snapped off. “Hey, Jupe, this is getting intense. Do you think Bernie Mehl is right about Duggan? Maybe Mehl knows more than he’s saying.”

“I’m not sure,” Jupe said. “But I did a little research on the Boston scandal today. From the newspaper accounts, it sounds like someone was paying the players. They just couldn’t pin it on Duggan. Anyway, keep your eyes open tonight. Maybe we’ll pick up a new clue.”

“Okay,” Pete said. “But I’ve been to Shoremont-Costa Verde games before. They’re always grudge matches to the death. You be careful, too.”

“Pete’s right,” Bob said. “This may not be the best game for your parrot debut. Are you sure you want to go through with this?”

“Oh, fine time to be worried about my safety,” Jupe said. “No, they want a parrot. And I’m prepared to give them one they’ll never forget,” he added mysteriously. “Just watch me.”

Pete pulled into the three-story concrete garage behind Shoremont’s gym. He wound around the ramps to the top level, and Jupe climbed out of the car.

“See you guys after the game,” Jupe said. He wrapped his arms around the bulky bird costume and carried it over to the elevator.

A few minutes later, alone in a small room reserved for the parrot, Jupe began to dress. Outside in the gym, marching bands were playing and cheerleaders were stirring up the crowd.

“Shoremont!” half the crowd shouted.

“Costa Verde!” the other half shouted back.

Jupe listened to the crowd as he connected wires and put in fresh batteries and then attached a small microphone to his T-shirt neck. Then he put on the costume over his T-shirt and jeans.

“Testing one, two, three,” Jupe said into the microphone. His voice came out of little speakers in his wings. It worked!

Finally Jupe slipped the parrot head on, fastening it with Velcro patches to the body of the costume. This