TO-BE-WEDS It's 11:30 PM in downtown Los Angeless. In a dingy yellow aprtment, a phone rings. A tired-eyed man shuffles across the floor and picks up receiver reluctantly."Hello? Inspector Barry Keen here.""Keen? This is Chief Harrison. I need you to check something out for me."Keen grumbles something under his breath."What's that?" growls Harrison on the other end of the line. "Speak up, I say!""Nothin', sir," is the reply."What's that noise in the background?""Just the TV, sir.""Whatcha watchin'? A cop drama?" The Chief laughs at his own joke.Keen winces. "Just a commercial, sir. For Rogaine.""Ah, I see. Still losin' your thatch, huh?"No reply."Anyway," says Harrison, "I need you to get dressed, grab a gun, and head down to the local church.""If I may ask, sir," Keen says cautiously, "why?""We just received a tip from an anonymous caller. It seems there's to be a wedding. And it doesn't look good.""A wedding for whom, sir?""For Miss E. Post and Mr. J. Modernism."Keen gasps."Can you handle it?" Harrison asks."Yes, sir. I'll get there as quickly as possible.""Good. I'll send backup. You gotta stop 'em, Inspector. I'm counting on you."
Hangin' on the Telephone (apologies to Blondie)I planned a wedding, it's the one with me and you.You went commercial and then prayed, "Boogity Boo."I'm not a child, I am the King of Kings and true.I won't keep hangin' on the telephoneI won't keep hangin' on the telephoneI'll leave a tip for you, don't prance before my throne.If I forgive you then you can't keep sinning on.What are you yellow? Leave your old life alone.That's why we can't talk again.No, 'cause you ain't left your sin.That's why we can't talk again.I won't keep hangin' on the telephone.The world will end and you'll be in the cold.