Casual Calls

It's a hot day both inside and outside, so I ask Corba if she wants to go to the movies with me. She asks me what I want to see and I say I prefer something that I don't have to think about, maybe a dumb, loud action movie. Work's been hell this week, I tell her. Corba sighs and says it's fine. She just wants to get out of the sweltering heat, away from the one-bedroom hotbox without a working air conditioner.

The phone rings, and it's you calling for me. I try to sound casual, but it's so nice to hear from you again. I tell you about my job and the friends you haven't seen in awhile. Corba paces by the front door. I am secretly happy to make her wait.

Then you tell me the reason that you've called me. There was an accident at the research lab you've been working at for several years and your DNA was crossed with that of a prickly bramble bush, gifting you the ability to produce and retract thorns on any part of your body. Your cellular structure has also developed secondary walls, which makes your body practically indestructible. You tell me this is how you evaded the laboratory's security detail and, after that, the military.

Despite the sensational nature of your story, I successfully keep my face expressionless for Corba's benefit. You tell me you've run out of places to hide and ask for my help, which I consider. I really do.

Corba silently mouths that we need to go. I try to sound nonchalant as I ask if you are talking about the campsite from our last anniversary together, the one upstate. I mention it as though you've simply called to ask me where it is. You get my meaning though and tell me you'll meet me there at midnight. I tell you to take care and hang up the phone.

Corba, her face deep with concern, asks me if it was you and what you wanted. I don't answer her. Instead, I pull a black card with white lettering from my wallet, the one they gave me in case you called. I dial the number. Again, Corba asks what you want from me. I smile and tell her not to worry, that you're just looking for a place to replant yourself. She asks me what's so funny as a pleasant voice on the phone begins to give me instructions.

Romantic Hazards

I often joked with potential clients that I knew starting an agency exclusively for daredevils would have its ups and downs, but it was true. There were incredible moments of absolute amazement at Hazards for Hire. I personally witnessed Pete McCreet, the Vertical Heat leap over the bus-jumping record by two whole passenger-grade Greyhounds. Almost a year later to the day, I helped fix a bug in Hannigan Airbase's Jumbotron screen so that all sixty thousand spectators would get a closeup of Lady Falling Star free-diving from one airplane into another. But every dizzying high seemed to have a busted-up counterpart: witnessing Guzzlepuss McCoy's champion drinking skills descend into alcoholism, or that day we helplessly watched Crash Helmet Terry explode into bitter nothingness on a tarmac in Pittsburgh, PA. That one hit me particularly hard.

Would I have done it all over again? Absolutely - without hesitation. But one thing I hadn't counted on was the tar pit allure of office romance.

The "Devils", as I took to calling them, tended to have what you might call elevated libidos. They would pair off, split up, and get back together - sometimes within hours of the first encounter. They'd have one-night-stands during dual events, causing X to tell me later that they only wanted to work with Y from then on, followed by Y dropping by an hour after that to tell me that they never wanted to work with X ever again.

Occasionally, they'd get themselves caught up in warped love triangles. Case in point, Captain Charcoal, who ate fire and spewed lava out of his ears, spent years developing a personal flame for Shirley Fleetfoot, only to have it doused when she flipped for our resident high rope guy, Upton Walker. The good captain, a huge draw even in the dead of winter, put in his resignation at Hazards when Shirley told him the score, turning to short-term contact work with state fairs and Burning Man rip-offs. Less messy, I assumed at the time.

A few of the Devils preferred to prey on the event workers, or "normals" as they chillingly took to calling them. Francene Nitro once admitted to me that she had bedded almost every ramp jockey I had hired for her dirt bike jumps. Honky Tonk Jack, who could tear whole tree trunks into firewood kindling with his bare hands, could never resist the allure of a single mom selling kernel corn. And I have female promoters in Louisiana and both Virginias that proclaimed to me in writing that they would never work with the Human Blender again, though I later removed certain unsavory clauses in his contract rider.

However, it was my own story - not theirs - that caused me to rethink my backstage role in the daredevil circuit. Her name was Molly Mississippi and she specialized in underwater lasso tricks. She could rope an octopus and hog-tie all eight arms before the tiger sharks even noticed she was in the tank. I never saw a vision so stunning: Molly bursting through the salty water's surface in her orange and blue wetsuit, splashing the fools with their faces pressed against the glass. I used the giant tank as an excuse to travel across the country with her, saying its setup demanded special supervision. But the only thing I took to supervising was Molly sitting on a folding chair atop her trailer, lasso in one hand and a sweaty glass of sweet tea in the other.

I might never had asked Molly to go on a date with me, but then she took to joshing me about my habit of collecting expensive pens with the names of the cities we traveled through. She especially enjoyed calling me "Cheyenne" the entire week we spent in Wyoming. Well, at the end of that week, I gave her my pen as a gift and asked if she wouldn't mind taking me to my first rodeo in Helena, Montana, our next stop on the tour. And for months after that trip to Big Sky Country, even Honky Tonk Jack wouldn't have been able to pry me and Molly apart.

Things were pretty good for a couple of years. I couldn't always be on the road with Molly when she toured, but I'd be sure to hit at least the first and last performances of her season, which ran April to August. She'd spend some of her downtime doing office work with me at HQ, but she was one of those rare performers that loved what she did. The Human Blender wouldn't so much as lick a piece of food that wasn't deep fried during his downtime, but Molly loved the ocean. She often set out for several months on deep sea expeditions, sometimes paying her own travel expenses out of pocket. She'd always come back a little changed after those, like a tree that learned to grow a new fruit. I can't say that I was always thrilled by the differences, but I trusted that she was still my Molly at heart.

Having spent the majority of my life on dry land, however, I naturally underestimated the call of a vast ocean, its tides tugging persistently at a heart I thought I might forever lasso.

One warm August evening in Columbia, Missouri, after she'd taken her last bow for the season, we sat on top of her trailer with sweaty glasses of sweet tea and had the talk. Molly said she appreciated everything I'd done for her over the years, but that she couldn't keep to Hazards for Hire's salty tank anymore, had to set out for open waters permanently. I'm sure I put up a fight, told her every reason I could possibly imagine for her to stay, but I knew the look in her eyes. Had seen it a hundred times before.

After she left, I threw myself back into the business hard. In my mind, I had the other Devils to take care of and plenty of my own past mistakes to make up for. I took on twice the business we'd been operating prior to Molly's employ, and I even took on a trio of underwater acts to replace her. It justified keeping the big tank, but I no longer cared much for the show. Francene would sometimes ask me if I needed help with the day to day, but I told the dirt bike queen to keep her thoughts on those ramp jockeys she liked so much and leave me to the paperwork. But all the while, I wondered which underwater mountain Molly might be swim-hiking while I was stuck in Toledo, yelling at a stage manager for missing a spotlight cue the night before.

Then one day, I looked at tired, old Pete McCreet, who was fast hitting the end of this Vertical Heat days. I saw too much of myself in the lines on his face and figured the time had come to look for my replacement. At my request, Captain Charcoal (under his given name) returned to Hazard for Hire and I taught him the ropes of the company, though he preferred that I didn't call them "the ropes" on account of Upton Walker.

Before too long, the Devils threw me a retirement party at a swanky hall downtown. It was strange to see them all in the same room, and I couldn't help by notice that we were all getting up in years. But the spark was sure there when they started revealing all the worst stories from the road that they'd kept hidden from me until that night: Lady Falling Star's habit of diving into hotel pools from 10+ stories up, Turbo Linnex's impromptu drag race with half of Tuscon's PD, and Crash Helmet Terry's one man, two-hour-long bar fight, just a week or so before the accident in Pittsburgh. I was thankful for their discretion, as some of the offenses would have involved hefty lawsuits had they ended differently, but I laughed until I cried as the Devils took turns spilling all the wild secrets they had kept so well. The next day, I bought myself a gold watch and began looking for a hobby that didn't involve collecting over-priced pens in cities like Rio Rancho, NM.

That pen is blue, by the way. It's blue like the ocean that I dream of every night. I had my first scuba diving lesson last May and I hope to be certified by the time you read this.

Pendleton & Colt

Pendleton Baker had a great imagination, but even it was easily exceeded during his first day working at NASA. He had spent most of his life daydreaming about the awe-inspiring ideas that were made into realities there and he just knew that the brilliant people in charge wouldn't disappoint him in the least. In fact, Pendleton was certain that his acceptance into mission control's department of orbital operations was a summation of his entire thirty-two-year existence, one spent in absolute devotion to science.

However, that notion changed soon into his second day at NASA, when Pendleton was introduced to Colt Bronson, his company-assigned bully.

Colt had called in sick on Pendleton's first day, which was supposed to be Colt's first day too. He had decided to go cliff diving and hit a few bars with some buddies instead, ending up with a terrible hangover when he reported to Buzz Aldrin for work on Tuesday morning.

"Glad you could finally join us," the legendary astronaut said to Colt. The bully sheepishly stood in Buzz's office doorway.

"Sorry, coach. I guess I caught something over the weekend."

Buzz leaned in across the paperwork on his desk. "Well, I hope your illness didn't get in the way of all that cliff diving fun."

Surprised by the accusation, Colt couldn't contain the guilty expression that washed over his face. "Gosh, how'd you know?" he said.

"I have my ways," Buzz replied. He figured that if Colt was stupid enough to post the pictures on his public Instagram account and not realize that his boss could see them, then why should he give up his source? Buzz leaned back and smiled. "But don't worry, Colt. I ain't gonna ding you for that crap. I was young once too."

At this, Colt couldn't help but smirk. Buzz continued, "Alright, that's enough gabblegocking. Let's go find that pipsqueak Pendleton you're s'posed to terrorize."

Pendleton's attention was focused on the ceiling when Colt and Buzz approached his cubicle. He was attempting to hang a fern over his desk, standing on his office chair and trying his best to keep it from swiveling as he adjusted the screw that was to hold the chain of the fern's basket.

"Okay, Pendleton," the second man to ever walk on the moon said. "I'd like to introduce you to Colt Bronson. He's going to keep you in line and make sure that you fly straight 'round here, so to speak."

"Oh, but I've already met my supervisor, Mr. Aldrin. Do you know Mr. Stevenson? His office is right over there." Pendleton, his hands still full of the fern machinations, quickly nodded his head twice in the direction of Stevenson's office.

Buzz and Colt exchanged a knowing glance. Looking back to Pendleton, Buzz spoke slowly, as though he were talking to a child. "Yes, Pendleton. Mr. Stevenson is your supervisor. That is correct. But you see, Colt is not a supervisor. He is your bully."

"My what?" Pendleton assumed he had misunderstood the astronaut that he admired so dearly. He hadn't noticed any bullies the day before, as many of them, like Colt, chose Mondays to call in sick.

Colt placed a hand on Buzz's shoulder. "I got this one, coach." He walked over to Pendleton, who was still balancing his weight on top of the office chair. "Hey, Pendy. The name's Colt, but you can call me 'sir'. Now, how shall I put this?" He tapped his chin in mock contemplation before finally snapping his fingers. "Oh, right. I'm going to make your life a living hell."

At that, Colt grabbed the back of the chair Pendleton was standing on and yanked it, causing it to swivel wildly and fling Pendleton and the plant into the air. Pendleton's trajectory knocked several items off of his desk before he crashed to the floor. The fern landed hard atop his head, causing the wild green leaves to cover most of his face.

"Nice," the man known as THE Buzz Aldrin said. He looked at his Apple smartwatch. "Okay, I'm late for a propulsion lecture. Catch you later, man." He high-fived Colt and made his way out of the cubicle farm, where several other NASA employees were either trying to behave as though they hadn't just witnessed the dangerous prank - or too busy appeasing their own bullies to notice.

Colt cracked his knuckles and stood over Pendleton, who was still trying to figure out what had just happened.

"Listen, rocket boy." Colt said. "Here's what I like: cold beer, tangy barbeque sauce, and the sound of a crowd chanting my name. Here's what I don't like: people forgetting my birthday, jellyfish stings, and science geeks like you."

Pendleton, fern fronds still obscuring most of his vision, nodded. This wasn't his first Colt Bronson.

"And what do you call that thing on your head?" Colt said, pointing to the plant.

Pendleton tilted his head a bit so that he could meet Colt's eyes. "A fern," he said.

"A fern," Colt said, already working on an exaggerated impression of Pendleton's voice. "I don't like ferns either." He barked out a quick, hoarse laugh and looked around. Returning to his own voice, he said, "Okay, Pendy. I'm gonna knock off a bit early today, let you continue to get settled. Tell you what - we're both professionals here - I'm going to give you the courtesy of not forcing any dough outta you on a daily basis. But I'm gonna need a loan upfront. Whatever you got in your wallet right now should cover it."

Before Colt had even reached "wallet" in his sentence, Pendleton began reaching into his back pocket. He pulled out his billfold and handed over the thirty-eight dollars he had brought to work. The basket with the fern fell off during the maneuver, leaving a small pile of dirt on top of his head.

"Cool. This should cover a pretty good lunch and maybe some of that cold beer we were discussing." Colt dropped two dollars into Pendleton's lap. "Here. Treat yourself to some chips and a soda if you want. Don't say I never did anything for you."

Colt then crouched so that his eyes met his coworker's directly. Pendleton could see the rage that seemed to constantly bubble just below the surface of Colt's face. He found it unsettling.

"So, that's it for now," Colt said, lowering his voice into a dry monotone. "Nice to meet you, Pendleton. I look forward to working with you."

He smiled without joy and made his way to the exit, snaking through the tiny maze of cubicles that made up the orbital operations department. Along the way, he nodded hellos to the other NASA bullies and twice threw up a clenched fist to make other "nerd" employees flinch.

Pendleton knocked the dirt off of his head and climbed to his feet. He was taken off guard at first, but he quickly regained his composure as he tossed the fern and basket into the garbage bin by his desk. He sat down and pulled out his drafting notebook. At the top of the first page he wrote "COLT BRONSON".

He had decided to blow off setting up his work area for the week. Instead, Pendleton wanted to figure out how to get something into Colt, maybe a small electrode or mixture of chemicals, that would make a sip of cold beer feel like he was getting stung by a jellyfish. It wouldn't be easy, but he was fairly certain it could be done. Science was something that Pendleton loved, and science had never let Pendleton down before.

The Plot of Beverly Hills Cop III, As Told By Someone Who Hasn't Seen It

First thing's first: I've never seen Beverly Hills Cop III. Actually, I've never seen the second one either, and it's been a long time since I saw the original, but I'm fascinated by the idea of the third film because that's the one where Axel Foley (played by Eddie Murphy) ends up in Disneyland. And that sounds delightfully ridiculous to me.

So, in the spirit of ridiculousness, I'd like to share with you my idea of how that plot plays out, sight unseen. And, like someone who answers "C" for every question on a multiple choice quiz, I promise that I'll do my best to accidentally get some things right along the way. Here we go.

Beverly Hills Cop III, As Told By Someone Who Hasn't Seen It

I assume that at the conclusion of Beverly Hills Cop II, Axel decides to leave Detroit and relocate to California permanently. The BHPD don't really love that they've been shown up twice by the brash young cop, but they respect the results he gets (and secretly think he's pretty awesome). The third movie opens with Axel lounging by the pool at the Beverly Hilton. He's sipping a fruity-looking drink, scoping out the babes, and we see that he has truly become a "Beverly Hills" cop. He jokes with a male poolside attendant, something like:

"These women are beautiful. I don't even know which parts of them are real and I'm getting excited."

Axel would probably do that trademarked "Eddie Murphy laugh" after saying this, but I'm not going keep writing that every time I think it would happen - just assume it happens a lot.

Suddenly, Axel sees some sort of shady deal go down over by the poolside tiki bar (of course there's a tiki bar) and he pulls a gun and badge out from underneath a towel with the Hilton logo on it. It's a fake out - he's undercover! He talks into his wristwatch and describes the people involved: a smoking hot blonde in a tight neon dress and a small bald man in a suit. He stows the gun and badge in his swimsuit and walks to the bar. The suspects are just about to switch briefcases when Axel approaches them with a huge smile.

"Look at you, you foxy thing," he says to the girl. "Lookin' all fine for your special day by the pool."

Axel makes a few jokes at the bald dude's expense and eventually the bald man excuses himself to go inside, grabbing the briefcase furthest from him as he leaves. Axel decides to leave the blonde at the bar and follow the guy. Inside we see the two other cops from these movies, Rosewood and Taggart (yeah, I had to look their names up), wearing ridiculous Hawaiian shirts and Rosewood (played by Judge Reinhold) is in much-too-short shorts. Axel sees the bald dude and chases him, yelling at the other guys to go for the blonde outside. Action scene, action scene, Axel catches the bald dude, but he's ditched the suitcase. The blonde also split before Rosewood and Taggart could find her, so it looks like the mission is a bust. But then Axel spots the bald dude's briefcase behind a potted plant and they find a bunch of...I don't know, guns? Drugs? Does it matter? Let's just call it the Merchandise. The important thing is the blonde appears to be supplying the illegal goods, so she's the main villain now. I think Bridgitte Nielsen might have been in this one. (Your author looks it up.) Nope, that was Part II. Well, let's just call this villain Blondie. But try to not picture Debbie Harry from the rock band Blondie. And certainly not Blondie from the classic comic strip. Just picture a pretty blond lady. There you go.

Anyway, they find out from the bald dude that Blondie is moving the Merchandise all over town. Axel makes a few jokes and then goes to see Bronson Pinchot, who is the effeminate French guy in these movies. Axel gets more information from him, something about a warehouse. After that, Axel goes to an expensive restaurant to meet up with the gorgeous woman that he saved at the conclusion of the second movie. He tells her a little about the case and says something about going to Disneyland when it's all over. (You see, I know he's going there anyway, so it's going to be hilarious when...okay, you get it.) Oh, and Axel also makes fun of how expensive the food is and how small the portions are. Something like:

"Oh no, I think these are prices for the cars I saw parked outside." And to the waiter, "I'm sorry, but is there a seafood buffet in back that I'm not seeing?"

Then it's the following day and Axel is back at BHPD headquarters, wearing that cool jacket he wears on the first movie's poster. Rosewood and Taggart, dressed in their boring suits, tell him that they found the warehouse and they head for the door. Axel makes fun of a cop that they pass by on the way out. Always with the jokes, this guy.

They get to the warehouse and, after some witty banter about what they should do now, Axel decides to drop all pretenses and just barge inside. They are ready for action, but it appears to be a normal factory that makes something L.A.-ish...rollerblades, I guess. They find Blondie in one of the offices upstairs. She tells them that she's never been to the Hilton and is not their briefcase woman. Axel asks her if she wouldn't mind going down to the station to see if the bald dude recognizes her. At that invitation, she reveals that she doesn't have to do what he says because she's personal friends with the mayor of Beverly Hills. Taggart, the oldest of the cops, tells Axel that she's right and that he recognizes her from the newspaper. Blondie asks them to leave and introduces a suspicious guy that works for her. Let's call him McHenchman. On their way out, Axel tells her that he'll be back with an arrest warrant and, her back turned, he steals a pair of bright pink rollerblades. Oh, and he notices a magazine on a desk that's opened to an ad for Disneyland, which has been circled in red.

Later, after failing to get a warrant for Blondie's arrest, Axel and the boys go to one of those cop bars from the movies, the kind where only a few people are there and the bartender is a tough woman that all the guys openly love. A ZZ Top song, commissioned by the film's producers, plays on the jukebox. Oh, this takes place in 1990's L.A., so Taggart politely asks a smoker to finish his cigarette outside. Anyway, they discuss the case and decide to follow McHenchman the next day. Then suddenly one of those guys that was supposed to take care of Cameron's dad's car in Ferris Bueller's Day Off walks in, points a gun at the bartender, and demands all the money from the register. Axel smiles and tells him it's not his day as everybody behind him takes out their guns and badges. The robber does one of those "aw, man" faces.

The next day, they tail McHenchman from the warehouse to Venice Beach. He carries a briefcase through the hundreds of people that flock to the promenade each day, passing some strongmen at Muscle Beach and a weird mime. Axel follows him while wearing the pink rollerblades from the warehouse. McHenchman spots Axel and chase, chase, chase. "The Heat is On" by Glenn Frey plays. (I had to look this up too, because how is this song not by Kenny Loggins?)

After unsuccessfully trying to hide in a novelty beach towel store, McHenchman steals a bike and Axel chases him all the way to the Santa Monica pier, where Taggart and Rosewood are driving a car on the main strip, yelling at people, "Get out of the way!" Finally, Axel tackles McHenchman in front of some fishermen at the end of the pier, before he can dive into the water and...I don't know, escape forever to live in the ocean. Axel makes a Jaws reference and McHenchman reveals that a big score is going down the next day at Disneyland and that Blondie will definitely be there.

That night, Axel goes Griffith Park, which is always open in movies, to meet his gorgeous girlfriend and they have a small argument about him not being ready to get married. (I think you see where this is going.) Axel makes a joke, she smiles, and the weird way that the scene fades out at the end suggests that they make love in the back row of the observatory, which would be odd.

The next day, Axel and the other cops arrive at Disneyland. There are way too many establishing shots of all the amazing rides and happy attendees, and it's not nearly as crowded as it is in real life. Oh, I also know that George Lucas has a cameo here, so that happens. They've brought McHenchman with them to lead them to the big score, but Rosewood keeps getting distracted by all the cool stuff they keep passing. Taggart says he loves Disneyland, but the character Goofy freaks him out. To that, Axel says something like:

"Aw c'mon, Goofy's the man. You just need to let your inner kid out and embrace the magic." (Sidenote: I love it when Eddie Murphy sells cheesy lines like these. Even Haunted Mansion almost works because of it.)

They make their way to Space Mountain and McHenchman tells Axel that the big score is going down in the ride's control center. Axel leaves him with the others and goes around to the back. He waits till someone dressed like Donald Duck opens the "Employees Only" entrance. (I don't know why a costumed character would do that, but it can't be just a normal guy that opens the door.) Axel goes inside and tensely steps down a dark hallway. We can hear the awesomeness of the ride through the walls. Eventually, Axel finds Blondie and a couple of Japanese men in the control room, surrounded by large crates. He spies on them as they share important details about the big score they are currently engaged in. Axel reveals himself, holding out his gun and he says something like:

"It looks like you're trying to make the happiest place on earth a little happier." Well, he'd say that if it were a drug deal. If not, he'd say something like, "Oh, I'm sorry. I thought this was the line for Pirates of the Caribbean."

The Japanese guys pull out uzi guns and start shooting. Axel ducks behind a control thing and fires a couple of shots back, taking one of the guys down as Blondie escapes. Axel shoots down the other Japanese guys and runs to find Blondie. He sees her enter into the ride section of the building and follows her into the darkness of Space Mountain. There are some lights here and there but Axel narrowly avoids getting hit by several roller coaster cars. Finally, he finds the exit and gets outside, where Blondie is waiting to greet him - with Axel's gorgeous girlfriend! She has a gun pointed at the girl's side and darn...I just realized I never gave the girlfriend a name. Typical male writer BS, right? I mean, I could go back and fix it, but I'm trying to be more honest in my writing. Perhaps the rest of this piece should be about this issue. Hmm, some other time, maybe.

So, Blondie leads Axel's girlfriend away from Space Mountain, through a crowd of people, as Axel watches on helplessly. Once they're gone, Axel runs to the other side of the building and tells Taggart and Rosewood what just happened. They handcuff McHenchman to a whimsical street lamp and go after Blondie.

We see Blondie leading Axel's girlfriend through the passageway under the big castle till they arrive at the Matterhorn ride. (Yes, I know this geography for Disneyland is way off and, yes, I know the name of the castle) Blondie waves her gun at the people waiting in line, scaring them away. Two people dressed like Chip and Dale are scared away too.

Blondie forces Axel's girlfriend to board the ride. They take one of the bobsled cars to near the top and Blondie removes the girl from the car and ties her to the large, hairy Yeti animatronic, which (she explains to Axel's girlfriend) she rigged earlier that week with a time-controlled explosive. She sets it for five minutes and rides the bobsled to the bottom. At the ride's exit, Blondie gets out of the car and Axel tackles her, having used movie magic to figure out where she was going. He asks her what she's done with his girlfriend, Amber. (Amber! Now how difficult was that?) Blondie explains the situation with the bomb and tells Axel that he can follow her or save his girlfriend. She backs away smiling as Axel looks up and sees Amber tied to the Yeti. Blondie shoots a small control box and runs away.

Axel attempts to use the control box to make the roller coaster cars work, but it's now broken. He taps his foot on the track, testing it for electric shocks. It's safe and he begins running and jumping his way to Amber. At one point, he almost falls and hangs off the side of the tracks. (I'm pretty sure I saw that on a poster or something.) Taggart and Rosewood run up below him and tell him they'll help, but Axel says forget it and for them to go after Blondie. They do so and he climbs up and finally gets to Amber. He calms her, but is obviously scared. With only seconds to spare, Axel disarms the bomb. He covers Amber's face with kisses and tells her that he would like marry her as soon as possible. He then says something like:

"Oh, and I'm gonna knock out anybody that compares our marriage to a roller coaster." (I think I've heard this expression before, but this joke works better if Amber has said something to a similar effect earlier in the movie.)

Back in the parking lot, we see Blondie arguing aloud to herself over where she parked. She turns a corner and finds Taggart and Rosewood, backed by enough police cars and cops to fill the entire aspect ratio. Just as Taggart is about to say something clever, he sees someone dressed as Goofy walking in the distance. His face freezes in terror and he emits a high-pitched whine.

"Three Days Later", Axel and the boys drive down La Brea in a convertible. They are all wearing tuxedos, dressed for Axel and Amber's wedding. The guys tease Axel, who is clearly nervous about getting married. Taggart tells him some happy memories from his first marriage, and Rosewood points out that it ended in a messy divorce, which cost Taggart his house and car. They come to a stoplight and Rosewood begins to compare marriage to a roller coaster. Axel perks up at this and his about to punch him, when the same robber who was foiled at the bar earlier approaches the driver side of the car. Confident, he orders them all to get out. The Beverly Hills cops smile at each other and calmly exit. Without warning, Axel slams the robber's head on the hood of the car and Taggart jams a gun into his side. Axel looks to Rosewood, who is on the other side of the car, and says something like:

"You know, I'm gonna miss this stuff during my honeymoon."

They all laugh and robber gives that same "aw, man" face from earlier. "The Heat is On" begins playing again and the credits roll.

The End

There you have it. I'm sorry if you were expecting something campier, like Axel breaking the fourth wall or jokes referencing Another 48 Hrs. and The Golden Child. For this, I honestly tried my best to imagine what the movie's plot could possibly be, based on what little information I have about it (including that it's a famously terrible movie). I kind of regret not including more Beverly Hills landmarks, like Rodeo Drive or Greystone Mansion, but I figured if the movie is going to Disneyland anyway, then I was free to include Griffith Park and Venice. I guess that's all I have, except to add that I currently have zero plans to ever watch Beverly Hills Cop III. Goodnight!

Noon Checkout

Jacob didn't need to look at the grey clock radio next to the unmade bed to know that it was past 11:45, and he definitely didn't need a call to remind him that checkout time at the illustrious Hotel de Marseau was at noon.

He stood in the center of the messy hotel room, looking from the tower of dirty clothes on the floor in front of the bathroom to the overflowing ashtray sitting on the balcony railing outside. In a panicked rush the night before, he'd throw out most of the takeout boxes and empty liquor bottles, hoping the shallow improvement would help clear his mind. No such luck.

On the stationary desk in the corner next to the balcony sat all of his recording equipment, everything pieced together and set up, waiting for inspiration. Resting on the wall next to it laid the large black guitar case that Jacob had not disturbed for the entirety of his week at the Marseau. It was perhaps the only thing in the whole room not tainted by Jack Daniels, cigarette ashes, or nacho chip residue. The shiny, fastened hinges reflected the late morning sun, mocking him. The deadline had almost arrived.

A few deep breaths later, Jacob made up his mind. He would lay down one song - just one. He could tell the backers that there was a misunderstanding. One week was not nearly enough time to record an entire album of material. But one week of freedom from the outside world would buy them one perfect gem, something beautiful and true courtesy of Jacob Lyngate. He could explain the outrageous minibar bill later.

The pressure demanded a peek. 11:53. "Shit."

He flung the guitar case open and pulled out Sheila, a slim body Gibson that Jacob had bought with his share of the first advance from his band's old label, Deep Sea Records. He connected to the recording bay and pulled the desk's chair out, sat down with Sheila on his lap, facing as much toward the balcony as the cord would allow. He took another deep breath and hit the record button.

Jacob began strumming a four chord progression he'd come up with around the time he quit his first band, Limited Appeal. He'd never written a melody for the song, but one slowly began to form. Jacob hummed a little, knowing that he could edit out a clunky intro on ProTools later. A lyric occurred to him and a second jumped out to catch the first. It was all coming together. He felt a wave of secure satisfaction wash over him for the first time since he'd laid eyes on his oasis at the Marseau. He leaned into the mic to sing.

And "More Than a Feeling" by Boston rang out.

Jacob stopped playing the guitar and sighed. His cellphone's muffled ringtone was coming from somewhere deep inside the origami folds of the bed's expensive comforter. He sifted through and found it.

MACK GILLIS & ASSOC., the display told him.

Jacob bit his lip and looked outside past the balcony once more. He could see the edge of a pond about half a mile away. The ringtone continued its demand for a response. He craved a cigarette, though it was too early for one.

12:01. Too late.

He swiped the screen to ignore the call. He knew that he had to give them at least one. Maybe he wouldn't lay it down in a posh mid-town hotel room. Maybe he'd book some time with one of the engineers he'd met on the way up, or maybe he'd set it down on a four-track cassette deck in his old bedroom back in Ohio, but he needed one ready for them the next time they spoke.

He placed Sheila back in her case, fastened the hinges, and started to unhook the recording equipment. His cellphone rang again and he took a break from packing to throw it off the balcony.

Coyote Kai

Noah felt at home with his friends and fellow karate practitioners at the Coyote Kai dojo. They often hung out together after school and on weekends, sometimes playing soccer on the beach or hitting various parties around Reseda. Occasionally, they would meet up with girls, all popular and gorgeous, and go on group dates. It was the best life Noah could imagine for a sixteen-year-old Valley kid, and the rigors of martial arts training was a small price to pay for blissful inclusion.

He had been hand-selected to be a Coyote by the dojo's sensei, Brian, who had trained in the U.S. military before taking up the Japanese art of karate. Brian stressed to his students the importance of the three Coyote C's: confidence, courage, and cooperation. The Coyotes would often shout these traits at each other outside of karate class, jokingly while poolside or racing on their all-terrain vehicles, but also sometimes during intensely dramatic times that only teenagers seemed with which to engage. Noah believed in these qualities too, as their discipline lent a sharp and welcomed contrast to his life before he was a Coyote.

One day, while Brian was lecturing Noah and the others on the merits of courage and how Coyote Kai was not a pottery class, a skinny kid from school named Dylan and an old Asian man entered the dojo. Brian noticed the interruption and addressed it head on.

"Class, we have visitors. Hai!" he shouted, signaling the Coyotes to stand in formation before Brian in the hachiji dachi position, feet shoulder-length apart with toes pointed forward. Noah saw the look of awe on Dylan's face and felt a rush of pride, though the old man didn't seem impressed by their discipline in the least.

"I want talk you," the old man said to Brian. His broken English reminded Noah of the way Pat Morita spoke in the old Karate Kid movies. "Come ask leave boy alone."

The Pat Morita-looking man gestured to skinny Dylan, which caused Brian to turn to the class and smirk. Noah heard snickers around him from some of the other Coyotes. He felt like he was missing something. Noah had recently been away for a week on vacation with his family and hadn't heard anything about this Dylan kid picking fights while he was out of town.

"Shouldn't the boy take care of his own problems?" Brian asked, slowly pacing in front of his students.

"One to one problem, yes. Five to one problem, too much," the Pat Morita man answered.

Five to one? Noah thought. That seemed unfair, though he reminded himself that he didn't have all the facts. Maybe the Dylan kid owned a switchblade or a butterfly knife.

"Oh, you want better odds?" Brian asked. "Well, we can fix that! Do you feel up to a match, Mr. Goodhair?"

"Yes, sensei!" Billy Goodhair shouted with a ominous grin. Billy was one of Noah's best friends, but he seemed almost unrecognizable in the moment, voice dripping with menace and a smile so smug.

"No more fighting," the old man said. Billy's smile faded.

"This is a dojo, not a pottery class," Brian said, again underlining that the dojo had no affiliation with Janet's Pottery and Home Goods across the street. "You don't challenge my boys and simply leave, old man."

Okay, whoa, Noah thought. He felt that it was one thing to mentally note that the Asian man was old, but another thing to call him an old man. It probably just sounded meaner out loud than Brian intended it to, he reasoned with himself. He'll apologize here in a minute.

However, more snickering sounded from around the room and Noah began to fear that this response, even it was obviously just nervous laughter, could be mistaken for appreciation of Brian's cruelty.

"Too much advantage, this place," the man who looked almost exactly like Pat Morita said.

"Name a place," Brian fired back.

"Tournament." The man pointed to a large sign for the following month's Valley-Wide Karate Tournament, a sign that Noah had helped Brian put up on the wall. "Till then, leave boy alone to train."

Noah felt that this was a great solution, and really wanted to find out later what the Dylan kid had done while he was out of town. But then he saw Brian stewing in this final request, that they should leave Dylan alone while he trained. And then, even from across the room, Noah noticed a devilish gleam flash in Brian's eyes. The head Coyote positioned himself tall in front of Dylan and the old Asian man, sizing them up for the first time since they entered his lair.

"You're a pushy little bastard, aren't you?" Brian said. He nodded, as though deciding that the man was indeed a pushy little bastard. "Okay, nobody touches Pollyanna until the tournament. Understood?"

"Yes, sensei!" Noah found himself answering, along with the others. His knees were still locked in the hachiji dachi pose, but he could feel them weakening at the sound of Brian's venomous words. Noah had thought he had found a home, but the foundation was quickly appearing cracked and rotting in places. Brian flexed his tanned forearm as he pointed to Dylan.

"But if you don't show, it's open season on you," Brian paused for effect. "And you," he added, now pointing at the old man.

What the hell? Noah thought as his eyebrows furrowed. What exactly is being implied here?

Brian's threat lingered in the air as the old Asian man and Dylan wordlessly left the dojo. Noah thought of all the time he had put in at Coyote Kai, all the money his mother had spent to send him there after school every day. It all seemed so pointless now. He quickly glanced around and noted the pitch black Coyote Kai outfits they each wore, which had seemed so slick to him in the past, and the angry, scowling coyote painted on each of their backs. In that moment, their clothes suddenly appeared to him as they truly were: the unmistakable uniform of bad guys.

Brian marched around the front of the dojo with his thumbs tucked into his black belt and laughed like a true villain, head leaned into his chest and eyes narrowed forward. Most of the others echoed his laughter and several exchanged high-fives. Noah just looked blankly ahead, hoping to not betray himself as a sudden dissident. He would have to hide his feelings until he could get outside of the building and figure out some way that he could separate himself from Coyote Kai.

And at some point after that, he would need to take a long look at himself to understand how he could be so blind to all of the obvious warning signs of an evil dojo.