An Unexpected Party

"hey, danny! what're we having tonight?" cardigan greeted his buddy behind the bar as he entered the Pub.

"leek, potato, and kielbasa soup."

"you're going to make somebody a good husband one day," cardigan grinned as he came forward to take his beer.

"it's for marian. today is her birthday, and she likes potato soup."

"happy birthday, marian!" cardigan walked over to the table, holding back a laugh as marian sits there with an indignant look on her face, wearing a large black revolutionary war tri-corner hat while Mysterious Lurker snaps pictures.

"why do i have to wear this ridiculous hat? i look like ben franklin's secretary!"

"i take exception to that, young lady," mr. franklin said as he walked into the Pub. "as i'm sure my secretary would. he is a severe young man with no sense of humor whatsoever."

"mr. franklin! what are you doing here?" taylor rose, tripping over his stool to offer it to the country's first Postmaster General.

"i understand that it is this delightful young lady's birthday, so i brought her a present." mr. franklin handed her a small box.

"oh! thank you, sir!" marian opened the box excitedly and then looked at mr. franklin quizzicly. "what is it?"

"i call it a 'navel ring.' it's a new invention of mine. see, if we pierce your belly button with a hot, sterile needle, then insert the post of this ring through the hole and attach this stub to the end, you will have quite a charming accessory," answered mr. franklin, looking quite pleased with himself.

"now cut that out!" the judge stormed into the pub, eyes flashing darkly. "benjamin franklin did not invent belly button jewelry! you have to stop mucking around with our nation's history like this!" he turned toward marian. "happy birthday!"

a startled marian took the proferred package and said, "thank you, your honor," but the judge was already walking out the door. she shrugged, opened the package, and gasped. "it's a hundred dollar bill!" she held it up to show them. mr. franklin took it from her. "i believe that belongs to me, young lady. it has my picture on it. he must have thought it was my birthday."

marian stomped her foot. "every hundred dollar bill has your picture on it, sir. he gave it to me!" she snatched it back from him.

"touchy little filly, isn't she?" mr. franklin muttered to sierra.

danny brought cardigan's soup over, glancing as he hears the door of the pub open. "oh, no."

dat rhaymes, AKA the black darter, limped in. "happy birthday, marian."

Mysterious Lurker noticed his black eye. "what happened, darter? run into a bad guy with 16-foot long arms?"

rhaymes ignored her, offering a card to marian. "this is for you," he annouced proudly.

marian read the card: "This Card Entitles The Bearer To A Free Rescue From The Black Darter. No Expiration Date." she looked back at him, unsure how seriously to take this. "uh, thank you, dat."

"what, you normally charge a fee to the people you rescue?" cardigan asked.

"what if they can't afford your fee?" taylor inquired. "do you let the bad guy go ahead and mug them?"

"maybe i can start a Rescue Insurance company where people pay a premium every month to help cover the cost of a rescue should they ever need one," sierra pondered. "i could make a fortune!"

"maybe i could be one of those lawyers who advertise on TV," the Lurker mused. "have you been injured in a botched rescue? call Mysterious Lurker. let's scoff about it."

the darter turned on his heel and walked briskly out the door.

"happy birthday, miss." mr. spock walked over, holding out a rectangular package.

"thank you, spock." marian ripped off the paper to reveal a Giant Book of Sudoku. "i love it!" she starts riffling the pages, frowning. "er, they've all been filled in."

"it seemed illogical to give you incomplete puzzles."

at that moment, the sound of a guitar strumming a waltz tune drew their attention to the back of the pub.

happy birthday, dear marian
you lovely bulgarian
may the joy this day brings
to include navel rings
prove not to be too wearying...

marian made a face of mild annoyance. "'i'm not bulgarian, tucker."

happy birthday, dear columnist
i heard it straight from your publicist
though you're forty years old
your heart is made of pure gold
you don't need a cardiologist...

marian made a face of major annoyance. "i'm not forty years old!"

happy birthday, potato girl
though my gift ain't a shiny pearl
you will live on in song
after we're all long gone
'till the end of this big ol' world

"don't call me potato girl!"