Aachoo Voo, Private Eye Episode One Side Doors And Pink Bathrobes

Think Dead Men Don't Wear Plaid

 and the 1940s and you'll get it.......enjoy!!

  Peter Gunn theme
 by The Blues Brothers

Aachoo Voo, Private Eye
Episode 1

Side Doors and Pink Bathrobes

It was starting out to be one of those days. You know the kind. The kind where you get in the shower with your socks on and don’t even realize it until you notice the soaking wet footprints all over the newly cleaned living room carpet. The cat gave me one of those “you-know-I-hate-water looks and dove under the bed to play with the dust bunnies. The dog, however, eyed me adoringly and slopped up the Evening in Paris scented tracks with gusto and a couple of bubbles oozed out between his teeth but he seemed happy enough.

I shrugged and took off my wet socks and threw them in the trash. I wasn’t big on doing laundry. I’d rather buy new stuff than tote baskets down to the Sit and Spin and watch little old ladies get mugged as their machines cycled down. I wasn’t thrifty but I was practical. That’s what everybody said about me. Except my Mom.

I was stirring up some pancake batter and frying some swine when I heard a knock on the door. Not the front door. The side door where only men that were up to no good knocked. We’ve all got one of those, don’t we?  (Doors, I mean.) “Come in!” I yelled as I poured the sweet batter into the hot, sizzling skillet and removed the bacon almost at the same time from the other pan. I had skills. Everybody said so.

The door swung open and there stood Lance, twirling a white coffee cup on his pinkie finger and looking like he’d just had a rough night with Marilyn Monroe. He lived upstairs but he was hardly ever there. I didn’t know what he did for a living but I was a witness that the boy knew how to live. I have to admit it, he was a pretty thing, tall and dark, with a swagger in his walk and a come-hither look in his eyes that made me weak in the bread basket. Oh, he was a little rough maybe, a little splintered, but I wanted to throw him down on top of the cabinet and give him a good shellacking. (Oh, did I mention I’m into furniture refinishing as a hobby?) Well, I am.

                                         

    

“I…I.. was running low and I thought I’d stop by for a fill up.” he smiled that crooked little smile of his and I dropped a pancake somewhere in the vicinity of my big toe. It was hot, it burned like hell, but I didn’t mind. “Sure,” I murmured, “help yourself.” and pointed towards the percolator. As he poured the steaming black, hot coffee into his cup, I turned, hiding my face as I silently screamed in pain and took the pancake off my bare foot and threw it to the dog. He gulped it gratefully and then gave me a look between “Oh, thank you! and What the hell!?” The phone rang. It was in the living room. Lance said, “You gonna get that, Sugar?” And I stood there undecided and let it ring twelve more times. It was probably my mother. She always called at that time of morning. And every hour after that. She had no life. And consequently, neither did I.

Lance walked into the living room carrying his cup and looked intensely at the phone like he could tell who had been calling just by looking at it. “One of your big cases no doubt.” he shrugged and sat down on my tweed sofa. I stood in the doorway of the kitchen and said, “No doubt. Have a seat and I’ll join you in a minute.” I ran to the kitchen sink and splashed cold water on my flushed face, combed back my tousled hair and slathered bacon grease all over my neck. (I knew what guys liked.)

I straightened my pink bathrobe and put on some Pink Frappe lipstick that I kept a tube of in the corner drawer. “Aachoo?” Lance called out and the parrot that my mom had gifted me with said, “Bless you!” even though he knew it irritated me to no end. He was big and gray and a slob. His cage was always a mess and he ate me out of house and home. “Be quiet.” I shushed him as I entered the living room and turned my back to the bird. He squawked and threw a peanut at me but i ignored him and smiled hesitantly at my guest.

“What can I do for you, Lance?” I wondered out loud, not realizing that I was merely wondering out loud and hadn’t really said anything. “I guess you’re wondering why I stopped by so early…..” he said somberly even though it was already 10:30 but then people like us didn’t believe in early birds and getting worms and that kind of thing. We were Afternooners. Night owls. Midnight riders. Children of the night. Gumshoes. Well, I was a gumshoe. I had no idea how he made his living. There were rumors. There was talk.

The big blowzy bleached blonde down the hall who didn’t like anybody liked him and was always pulling me aside and asking if I’d seen him. “Have you seen Lancy?” she’d ask in her coy and disturbing manner. “I haven’t seen him around in days and I have something I need to give him.” And she’d bat those four inch eyelashes and I’d get a little ill in my tummy. I always told her that I thought he had run off to get married. (I had a mean streak no mother could ever spank outta me.)

“Yes, I was wondering about that. ” I said softly and brushed back my wavy dark hair as his eyes met mine over the white coffee cup. “Would you like some more?” I offered meaning coffee, but the look he gave me said he was there for a whole lot more of a whole lot more. “I sure would, Sugar!” he grinned and handed me the cup. “I’ll take all you got this morning! I’ve had a very long and adventurous night and I’m running on fumes.” For some reason that kinda upset me and I hoped he wouldn’t go into detail but he seemed in a talkative mood.

He followed me into the small yellow kitchen and as I refilled his cup, he stood behind me so closely I could feel his day old stubble on the back of my head. “Man, you smell good enough to eat!” he exclaimed and breathed deeply of my essence. I was glad I had put on the bacon perfume. It was an old trick and it worked every time. I cleared my throat and turned to him quickly spilling the hot black coffee all down the front of my bathrobe but I pretended not to notice. He took the empty cup from my hand, set it down and began to dab at the spill with a dish rag never taking his brown eyes off mine. “You don’t burn easy, do you?” he breathed noisily and I breathed back just as noisily, “No, I reckon not. I’m a girl that keeps her cool.” 

“Oh, Aachoo!” he murmured seductively, raking his hand through my hair and from the corner of the kitchen the bird merrily called out “Bless you!” “Shut up!” we both shouted at the same time and went back to whatever we were doing. I pulled away then and he kind of groaned a little cause my bathrobe button had caught on his zipper and ripped it out of his pants. It was one of those things that frequently happened to me. I didn’t know why. It just did.

                                    

©By Voo
Nov 9, 08
                               

                                              
Lance (Tony Curtis)

my friend Professor Lance Strait as Lance>>

            

me (Voo) as Aachoo Voo.........(of course)

 

and Cleo Moore as The Blonde down the hall............

*****************************************************************

                                     Woof!      


To Be Continued in Episode 2............

                  * 

https://aachoovoo.blogspot.com/2019/07/aachoo-voo-private-eye-episode-two.html

Link to Episode TWO

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jONQxjA2UoE&list=PL62KRv2BaHahXYCPfodWGDIFA_psy4oV5&ab_channel=RetroFeed

 

Old Radio Show 
Sam Shovel

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vBueVI5tMgY&ab_channel=OldTimeRadioResearchers

Abbott and Costello Show

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZMsgAtaSuxQ&list=OLAK5uy_muUvvWe4J2TA4cZFfSE-YZiSCtAELp3rQ&ab_channel=DonAmeche-Topic

The BICKERSONS

(one of the funniest things EVER!!!)

Aachoo Voo, Private Eye Episode Two Upper Crusty In Voo Bayou

 

Aachoo Voo, Private Eye
Episode Two

Upper Crusty In Voo Bayou
                                                                                             

                                                                         

Lance was cool. He didn't bat an eye. (Well,

actually, he did but he always did that for effect.)

"I'll be back," he said softly. "You know, you really 

are hard on a guy. This is the third pair of pants I've

lost at your place." And I blushed, remembering

the jelly incident and the slamming the door on his

pants leg incident and the...well, that was enough

remembering for now.

Like I said, me and laundry just didn't get along.

Maybe it was all that innate rebellion stemming from

childhood and the fact that gathering up dirty clothes

to wash had been a hated chore. There had been

several years of my childhood in Louisiana and after

we had moved back to New York when we had been

practically penniless but my mother would kill me

if I told anyone that so I won't. After the passing of

my Grand- Ma-Ma Paramore (yes, I had to say it

like that....Muh-Ma) because it was "upper crusty" 

like she was, we were no longer penniless. My father

was a proud man and didn't especially want to be

anything other than a pipe collector and Vice President

of a non-descript company that didn't actually have a

President and no one, including my father, knew exactly

what it was that they did there. (And when he retired, no

one showed up or gave him a gold watch.) 

But Muh-Ma left us a fortune and my mother

was over the moon. No more laundry after that. No 

more chores. We had upper, lower and in-between

maids. We had a butler. We were filthy rich! (Well,

rich but scrupulously clean.) So very, very clean. It

made me sick. I missed playing in the swamp and

jumping in mud holes. I missed the South. (Except

for the mosquitoes.)

Most of the time I just gathered the clothes up and

threw them in the furnace but there came the day 

when my dad was late for work and couldn't find

a thing to wear and my jig was up. I was grounded

for a month and my mom made me learn to sew and 

make all my own clothes for the rest of the school year.

(I think MiMi talked her into that just to see if she

would do it. Told her it was a Voo family tradition and

that "the child had to learn at least some of the 

Voo Ways" in order to inherit the much bally-hooed but

 mysteriously secret Voo Fortune hidden in the swamps

and rumored to be part of the legendary treasure of  

pirate, Jean Lafitte.

And to the old lady's ever lasting amazement and

playing on my mother's greed and love of all things

monetary, she did it.. My father kept insisting that

it was just an old trunk full of Confederate money

and his baby teeth but she wouldn't believe him. So,

he kept silent finally but he smiled a lot when she

wasn't looking.

It was not a pretty story. Most of the time,

I went around looking like the scarecrow from the 

Wizard of Oz. Which was an embarrassment, 

especially to my mother because she was born into

high society and despised the lower classes which

included her in-laws. We were in a class by ourselves,

of course, but still, that particular punishment 

backfired on her and she tried to keep me out of the

public eye as much as possible.

My Dad thought it was a terrible thing for her to do

because he adored me and kept slipping me money 

to "Go buy yourself something pretty." But I saved

up to buy myself something I would really need in the

future. It was my junior year and I sneaked out to the 

Ayers' Used but Lovely Resale Shop and bought myself

a prom dress that didn't have discernible stitches and

upside down zippers and told my mother that I had

made it with my own little fingers. But I digress.......

(It was an interesting year.) MiMi had gotten her

revenge at last and never let "The Lady of The Manor" 

forget it! Of course the way she pronounced the word,

it came out sounding more like "Manure."

The parrot snickered at me as the side door closed and I

snickered back and turned on the radio to drown him out.

I noticed the water in the fish tank was mysteriously low 

and the fish were kinda gasping for air and had drawn 

little frownie faces in the algae. I refilled the thing,

threw in some fish food, erased their artwork and 

went to get the mail. I was looking for a check from Big

david, the mobster who spelled his name with a little d.

I had done some work for his sister and he'd promised

to send me some moo-la. I didn't much like his kind but

his sister Prudence was nice enough. The case concerned

her cheating husband Ricky and the fact that he had 

gone on vacation with her worst best friend after cleaning 

out the bank account. I found the two louses on the beach

in Mexico.

I had actually found them on my second day there but

didn't report back to Prudence until eleven days had

passed. I needed a vacation and the lovebirds needed

to get all that pent up passion out of their systems 

before Big david shot 'em. I thought that was the least

I could do. Neither one of them had two brain cells to

rub together. He was short and she was tall. He was an

accountant and she was no account. They were perfect

for one another. The check was not in the mail.

I picked up the newspaper and noticed a handsome face 

on the front page. It looked vaguely familiar. Very familiar,

actually. Said the face had been found murdered the night

before by a night watchman on his rounds at Marshall's

Hardware and Hat Emporium. That was where I bought

all my furniture refinishing products and the occasional

hat. No wonder the face looked familiar. It belonged to 

Si, the Shellacking specialist. A talker, if there ever was 

one. A fairly nice guy but there was something about his

shifty eyes that gave me the shivers.

He flirted with you from the time you walked in the door

until you bought twenty five cans of Shellac and then

insisted upon delivering the purchase to your place of

residence. All the time trying to impress you with his

extensive knowledge of wood and how to care for it. He 

looked like a would-be movie star but there was just

something......you couldn't put your finger on it, no 

matter how hard he tried to get you to put your finger

on it.....you just couldn't. Like I said, he had shifty eyes.

They darted. They looked you up and down. Undressed 

you and dressed you again in satin.

I shuddered remembering the last time I'd seen him.

That would have been last Saturday. I needed to strip

my neighbor's old chest that he had been nagging me

about and I was all out of sandpaper and stripper

and had run in to the store that afternoon hoping

someone other than Si would be behind the counter.

No such luck. "Well, hello there, you good looking,

thirst quenching, pretty polished piece of fine furniture!"

he said exuberantly as I stepped inside "How may I be of

service?" And I blanched. At least I think I did. I'm not

really sure what blanch means but it sounds appropriate.

"Just need a few items, thank you." I said as coldly

as I could manage but it didn't put him off. He was on

me like ugly on a baboon's bottom. Came out from behind

that counter, took my arm and led me back to where we

usually ended up, the Tung Oil aisle.

"Listen, Miss Voo, I need help and you're the only one 

that can help me!" he whispered urgently as he looked

around to see if anyone was near. I didn't think much 

about it at the time because he always said that to me 

but thinking back now, it was pretty obvious that he'd

actually meant it. I just hadn't been in the mood to help

him. Now he was dead. The paper said he had been found

in a pool of paint thinner. He wasn't wearing any socks.

He'd been clutching a folder full of receipts and a 

corkscrew. I felt bad. Not bad bad but pretty bad. I 

wondered who had killed him and why.

I also wondered if I'd been the only girl he'd sold 

Shellac to and flirted with so relentlessly. I wondered if

he'd just flirted with the wrong girl this time. On the other

hand, he'd probably been married, guys like him always 

are no matter what they say or how hard they try to hide

their missing wedding band tan lines with furniture polish.

You could always tell. It had been the wife, I was sure of it.

Too bad. He was a doll dizzy creep but he sure knew his 

wood grains.

I shook my head and put the paper down and went to

change out of the pink bathrobe. I had twelve of them

hanging in the closet. Pretty soon I'd need to replenish

my supply. I hoped they still carried my size and style

at the bathrobe shop. I had bought up their entire stock

last time I was there. I told them I was buying them for

gifts. (It was none of their business.)

I threw the soiled pink robe into the trash and stood there

naked looking for something jazzy to put on. I had a

movie date with Andy at four. He was sweet. I liked him

and he liked me. We had been out twice and neither time

had I set him on fire or tripped him with my long legs or 

turned his clothes into rags. I was the epitome of grace 

with him and it felt wonderful. Yes, I was looking forward

to this afternoon's matinee and the smell of popcorn and

aftershave.

I forgot the day's headline about Si the Shellac salesman

and his untimely demise and giggled happily as I put on

my hose. Then the phone rang. And I heard the bird in the

kitchen say, "Pick up the phone. What am I, your slave?"

Stupid bird. "Answer it yourself!" I shot back and fell in 

a tangle of hose and garter belt and a box of bath powder

and an open bottle of turpentine that came down from the

counter at the same time that I did. Well, at least I didn't

have on socks when I got into the shower this time.

    TO BE CONTINUED......in Episode Three

                  EPISODE THREE link

                    👇

Various photos of my mother taken throughout my

childhood. She always seemed to be stunned when

looking at me or hearing my answers to her questions.

 I can't imagine why. And after the incident with my

brother and my surprise birth, she just lost interest in

having more children altogether. (Much to MiMi's

chagrin, who unbeknownst to anyone, kept putting

Cajun fertility potions in Mother's coffee and beignets in

the hopes of having a big brood of bebettes running 

around. But it didn't happen so my grand-mere 

spoiled me wonderfully and hopelessly rotten.)

Nevertheless, she dressed me up like a baby doll,

had hundreds of portraits taken and/or painted of

me, made me stand in the corner when I sassed her

in Cajun and played with me occasionally until she

couldn't stand me anymore. I loved her but I was fou fou 

about my MiMi!  She's the one who named me Aachoo

(behind my mother's back.) People always made fun of

it but I thought it was funny and told them it was just

a Cajun word that meant Your Majesty. When I was

seven, MiMi told me the whole crazy story and how 

she had almost named me Cayenne.....(Ki-yan in Cajun)

(As in Ki yan pepper) Ki-yan Voo....Heaven help me!!!!

(50) Justin Wilson: How To Cook Chicken a la Justin - YouTube

(Baby Aachoo Voo Voo)

(topless....don't look!!!)

I have no idea what I had done that day

but obviously she had had enough. Oh, wait!

That was the day I burned up her silk negligee

from Paris!!!! Ah, yes. Now I remember......

💖

And here is my dear ole Dad. Always calm. Always

the gentleman. Always quietly terrified out of his

 mind of the womenfolk in his life.......      

💥

My mother in what my father referred to as

"the palm tree dress" She loved it.

He hated it. (He slipped me some moola to

throw it in the furnace) He was happy but

my hinder parts still hurt from that spanking.....

💕

The happy young couple before my brother was born

and before they were forced to move to Louisiana.

My mother was never the same. And neither was

Louisiana.......

Aachoo Voo's  parents are being played

by Phyllis Calvert and John McCallum

(based upon my friends Patricia Paramore

and John Smith from myspace and friendburst

whose photos I have misplaced.)

ALSO STARRING 

in our cast of characters........
friends from myspace and other sites

and personal friends and family members

david, Si, Lance Strait, Voo, Andy,

the fish and the un- named parrot

              david   "qzert" from myspace                                 
                                                   

and............

 Richard Bellamy as Big david the mobster                                                                                  

 Si (the poet no one could impress)
from Myspace...................    

Craig Stevens as Si, the Shellac salesman

Andy of myspace land 
The Last Digital Bastion 

   

Ray Milland as young Andy

special note of thanks

to the following for use of their names:

***Ayers and Marshall** (Rusty and Linda)

and Prudence

a little soo-prize!!  👇

Only In Louisiana Will You Hear These 12 Unique Cajun Phrases (onlyinyourstate.com)

Cajun Dictionary (bryantsweb.com)

Where Did The Word "Achoo" Come From? - Dictionary.com

Cajun English Dictionary | Funny Popular Cajun Expressions (fontenotandahalf.com)

                     

                        *  

        EPISODE THREE link