grundle

I read the whole thing. It's spot on accurate about the show, and a very funny and well done parody.

It's too long to post here.


http://www.saaradutton.com/id25.html

(Written by four writers who have absolutely nothing to do with the original show, but just wanted to celebrate America's favorite mustachioed private investigator with this ridiculous homage)

lotsofdvds

They needed to bold the highlights.

grundle

I know it's long - it's supposed to be an entire episode.

I realize that not everyone wants to take that much time to read it. I'm a huge fan - it's my favortie show. But not everyone is like that.

Here are some parts of it. It's not enough to carry the plot, but it does show how spot on accurate this is, as well as how funny it is:


Anyway, my morning swim does a lot to clear my mind. And today I needed a lot of clearing, because I had to figure out how to pay Rick for my bar tab at the King Kamehameha club, and T.C. my outstanding fees for his Island Hoppers services. Plus he’s making me pay for the bullet holes in his helicopter from the last time he flew me to Molokai. Personally, I don’t think that’s fair. It’s not my fault that those yo yos turned out to be rogue MI6 officers, or that Morgan Fairchild was in cahoots with them. You know, Rick and T.C. are my best friends, and we were soldiers in Da Nang together, but sometimes they’re both a couple of turkeys.

.

I stepped out of the water and onto the beach, where I began wiping off my profusely hairy chest with a towel. When the towel had sopped up as much chest hair moisture as it could handle, I slung it over my shoulders and entered the beach gate through to the estate grounds. On cue, the Dobermans, Zeus and Apollo came tearing around the corner looking like they wanted to sink their teeth into my ass. I don’t know why, but they have it out for me. So I went scrambling across the lawn, and barely made it to the guesthouse before slamming the door in their faces. I still heard them barking as I stumbled down the stairs, threw the tiki on the coffee table, and went over to the kitchenette to make a bologna sandwich. I had just sat down on the sofa to watch the Tigers game on TV when Higgins burst open the door.

“I say Magnum--”

“Don’t you ever knock?” I shouted.

“Why on earth should I knock? As head caretaker of Robins Nest I have every right to go where I like when I like.”

Without further warning, he started making his way down the stairs. His tubby body demanded a lot more stretch than his standard attire-a khaki jumpsuit-was willing to give. One day that khaki jumpsuit was going to burst open at the seams. I was sure of it. He scanned the room with that constipated look on his face. So the place was a little messy. But it was just surface clutter; a couple of pizza boxes, a few pairs of Op shorts, a gorilla mask. No big deal. But when he saw the plastic dead chicken on top of the TV set he bellowed,

“Oh My God! Magnum, how can you live in such filth? I’d call it a pigsty but even a pig would try to clean this up.”

This was ironic coming from such a fat little man. “Is there a reason you’re here Higgins? I’m watching the game.”

“Yes there’s a reason I’m here. Last week you borrowed Robin Masters’ Japanese sword. And as you know, it is no ordinary sword. It’s from the original 1885 production of Gilbert and Sullivan’s Mikado at the Savoy Theatre in London. It is priceless. And you, philistine that you are, probably used it for one of your sordid divorce cases. Be that as it may, my main concern is that it hasn’t been returned to-“

He stopped in mid sentence when he saw the tiki on the table.

“I say…”

I reached down and handed it to him “Yeah, I found it while I was swimming.”

Higgins studied it carefully. “This particular tiki god was discussed in great detail at our “Bi-Annual Polynesian-Anglo Spotted Dick Festival.”

I smirked. “Spotted Dick?”

Higgins sighed. “Yes, I suppose someone with your infantile sense of humor would find that amusing. But Spotted Dick is a delicious English treat. Really Magnum.”

“Sorry. What’s the deal with the tiki?”

“Lord Cyril Bumbleford mentioned it. His description matches this little statue perfectly. It’s an ancient tiki, but it gained notoriety in 1972. A family from suburban California came here for a visit. Even brought their maid with them. Can’t remember their name now. Very large family. Three boys and, yes, I believe it was three girls. As I recall, all of them had hair of gold…like their mother. The youngest one in curls-“

.

The phone rang and I answered it.

“Thomas. When are you gonna get down to the club? One of your clients is here. I can’t stall her all day. And lemme tell you, she’s a looker.”

“I’m on my way Rick.”

“Good. And you better have the money to pay your bar tab too. I’m not runnin’ a charity here.”

I hung up the phone. I could tell this wasn’t going to be one of my better days. I showered, pulled on a pair Op shorts, threw on my Tigers baseball cap, red Hawaiian shirt and boat shoes. Then I walked out to the Ferrari.

On my drive to the King Kamehameha Club, my little voice kept telling me that this case wasn’t going to be easy. Something just didn’t seem right, but I wasn’t sure why. The client’s name was Donna Mills. All I knew about her was that she was divorced, had a sexy voice and needed me to track someone down for her. But there was something about her tone that made me suspect I was headed for trouble.

I pulled into the parking lot of the club, left the Ferrari with the valet and walked inside, where I found T.C. sitting at the bar. He spun around on the bamboo stool, his rainbow suspenders pressed tight against his chest. Rick looked up from the Mai Tai he was mixing behind the bar.

“Hi guys!” I said with a grin.

“Don’t you ‘hi guys’ us, Thomas,” snapped T.C. “You were supposed to come by yesterday and pay me for that trip to Molokai. Plus damages.”

“Yeah,” Rick chimed in. “And what about your bar tab? You were supposed to settle that last week.”

“I’m sorry. Really. I’ve been a little busy.” I said, trying to think of a good excuse.

“Busy? You? Listen to him Rick. Now he thinks he’s funny. Busy. Doin’ what?” asked T.C.

.

I turned around and saw a beautiful woman sitting by the beach. Even if Rick hadn’t told me, I would have known she was my client. I knew because she had long shapely legs encased in nude pantyhose. My clients all tended to have long shapely legs encased in nude pantyhose.

.

“Magnum”, said Higgins. “Oh, Magnum…Surely you haven’t forgotten our conversation yesterday? I vowed to report your theft of Mr. Masters priceless sword to Hawaii 5-0 if it was not returned.” He shook the phone in my face. I was still a little delirious and in no mood for the likes of Higgins and his two Doberman pinschers. With all I had going on, I really didn’t need him to place that phone call. I make it a habit try to stay away from Lieutenant Tanaka, unless he has an update on a Tigers game.

.

I was approaching the questionable spot in Chinatown where I’d hidden Robin’s priceless sword from the Mikado. I stepped out of the Ferrari. It was still early enough that there was no sign of life in this dump. With no one around, I just needed to work the lock, sneak in, then slide out. Yes, with a large Japanese sword. Then I’d get in the Ferrari and get back to the estate in time to appease the pudgy little major domo. I got in easily enough, but I couldn’t be sure no one had seen me.

Once I had the sword firmly in my hands, I took a good look at it. I wondered if any of the previous evening’s patrons realized such an unattended jewel stood unguarded all evening. Enough standing around, though. Time to get the hell out of here. I quickly finished the beer I’d accepted from the smiling Buddha, then stealthily made my way to the door, exited, and closed the door behind me...

“I told you he’d come back for it” was all I heard. Remember those Burmese gun dealers I mentioned I was tailing a few days back? Well, they’d returned service. They were all here, waiting for me. They were a weird looking trio: one tall skinny guy, elegantly turned out in a pinstriped suit, one dwarf with a cleanly shaven pate and one fat goon with a handlebar mustache. I guess that case wasn’t as closed as I’d initially thought.

So here I was in the seediest part of Honolulu, trapped in an alley by three Burmese toughs, with nothing but an antique, priceless, theatrical Japanese sword in hand

lotsofdvds

Just tell me when Sam Beckett leaps in.

datagirl7

Long, but enjoyable.

GuessWho

That's what she said.

datagirl7

I knew that would happen, but given the story, I couldn't resist. :-)

grundle

Heh heh. It's too bad they never made that episode of Quantum Leap. I know there had been talk of doing so.

grundle

I'm glad you liked it.

datagirl7

I never LOVED the show, but definitely did watch it (like everyone else at the time I guess) and that was a great parody of it. I could actually watch the show in my mind as I read that it was so spot-on.