It was another hot muggy night in Memphis and I was in my second floor office, kicked back sipping slowly from a water glass of Jack Daniels. The only light was the intermittant blink of the neon sign of the blues club below. B.B. King's place was really hopping and the blues music really set the mood for how I was feeling. My name is Tony Angel and I'm a first rate private cop with a third rate private business in the heart of Beale Street. My luck has been all bad lately and I was drinking away some of my sorrows.

As I sat there the sweat running down my back and the J.D. running down my throat, I felt a slight breeze from the window and all of a sudden sensed that I was no longer alone. I put my hand on my gat and quickly snapped on the lamp on my desk. And there she stood, looking like candy to a kid, with legs all the way up to her ....... that's when I noticed that she was wearing a sack on her head. It took only a couple of moments for me to realize this, being the professional that I am.

"What can I do for you, sweetheart?" I asked in the most macho voice that I could muster.
"You can come up off that sweetheart crap and help me with my problem." she said in a voice that would curl the Pope's toenails.
"Sorry, maam. How can I help?" was my quick comeback.
"I'm on the lam. The federal boys are after me for nonconformity and being too humorous on the internet. I need to just disappear" she said.

All of the sudden, it hit me. I knew the perfect place. "I have a friend that has a small place behind a donut shop near Graceland and he's a master of intrigue. If you don't mind fried peanut butter and banana sandwiches, I believe he'll let you stay as long as you like."
"Great" she said and I dropped her there with instructions to stay put and I would be in touch in the morning.

Later that morning, after much tossing and turning ... ring....ring....ring....finally the phone rang, but it was my answering service with this message ...

(Stop backround music by right clicking on musical note before clicking on message.)

(Click the Button to hear message.)

I rushed down the stairs to my car to go see what was up, but was frozen in my steps when I passed the newstand. There on the front page was a picture of my friend and Anonymomma. They had foolishly been spotted in the donut shop and were both back on the run. My heart felt like it was in a meat grinder. Had she come into my life just to vanish again without a word? Of all the donut shops in all the places in all the world, why did she have to go in that one? Will I ever see her again?!