Somewhere in Britain, September 1943

"Oi, Oi Maddog," Rastro yelled, pounding loudly on the bathroom door. "Get outta there, I gotta go bad. Ate an entire pot of lentils, I did."

"Go away," Maddog growled back. "I’m shaving my legs."

"With what, a pair of tweezers? You’ve been in there an hour, you bloody fat cow!"

"Go away."

"I’ll fart the door down if you don’t come out right now!" Rastro threatened, farting doors down being a big threat in Australia, along with Skippy the Kangaroo dating your sister.

"Oh, all right." Maddog huffed, taking shallow breaths because the knife wielding forger had already farted. Pulling her blue blanket, which doubled as a robe, around her, she vacated the bathroom. Rastro ran into the bathroom very, very quickly and slammed the door.

"Hey, scum bucket, you done with the bathroom yet?" Feral called out as she meandered down the hall of the great English manor house the monkeys were currently staying at. She was dressed in a screaming pink robe and carrying a small bucket of toiletries.

"I’m done but you won’t be able to use the bathroom until tomorrow."

"Why not?"

"Cause Rastro ate an entire pot of lentils and is...."

"No," the red headed car thief held up a hand, "don’t tell me. I don’t want to know."

"Why don’t you go and use the Lieutenant’s bathroom. I think she’s meeting with General Fluffy this morning."

"That’s an idea. Hey, I can use that new shampoo she bought the last time we went through Switzerland."

"Do you really want to use a shampoo that makes your hair THAT shade of blonde?"

"Nah, you’re right. One of us having a glow in the dark head is enough."

Maddog nodded in agreement and started walking to the former study that the Monkey’s had made their hangout. She was interrupted by the Sergeant calling out to her.

"Hey, you, monkey girl, here’s the mail."

"Thanks Sergeant," she responded, taking the proffered parcels. Sorting through the stack she entered the room and flopped down on a four-hundred-year old chair that had once been sat in by the king of England. The chair for its part didn’t care who sat in it as long as it wasn’t Rastro after she had eaten an entire pot of lentils. The farts tended to make the varnish peel. As usual, Captain Buck had received several clothing catalogs, Feral had received Auto Theft Monthly, Rastro had received a newsletter from Vegemite Eaters Anonymous, Lieutenant McDonough had received an invite of some sort and she herself had gotten a letter from her pen pal in Outer Mongolia. Tearing open the missal, she found herself drawn into the thrilling tale of Khan and his adventures with his pet yak, Waldo. Finished with the story, she starting looking at some of Buck’s catalogs, once again wondering just how many pairs of shoes one needed to own. Then the arsonist’s eyes fell on McDonough’s invitation. Glancing furtively around the room to make sure she was alone, she slit open the envelope and started reading. Then she started laughing. Then she fell off the chair. At that time, Rastro (who had finished producing enough methane to light Toronto for a month) and Feral came into the room.

"Oi, twit head, what’s so funny?"

"Yeah, Maddog, what ‘cha reading?"

"It’s an invite for old Blood and Guts."

"An invite to what? A bitch’s tea?"

"Nah, it’s an invite to Lieutenant McDonough to attend the Leper’s Ball."

"A charity ball for lepers?" Rastro asked, trying to be clever.
"Nah, a ball WITH lepers!"

"You’re kidding, right?"

"Nah, McDonough used to work with the lepers in Borneo, remember?" prompted Maddog.

"Oh, yeah, that’s right. The loose bits shop," nodded Feral.

"Scab O’rama," interjected the Australian.

"Body parts R us!"

"Gotta like it," concluded the car thief. "You think the blonde one will go?"

"Nah, she’s trying to put her perforated past behind her."

"Well, I think she should go," pronounced Rastro with a firm node of her head. "It’s only right. They’re going to an awful lot of trouble. she should attend and grace them with her presence."

"Not to mention smell," said the short haired arsonist.

The unrepentant thief took the invitation and carefully filled out the RSVP card, saying that Lt. Kelly McDonough would be attending the Leper Ball along with four guests and their escorts. Task completed, she sealed the envelope.

"Oi, got a question."

"What?"

"What are we going to wear?"

The three enlisted Monkeys looked at each other and sighed deeply. The chance that the ball could be attended in khaki was close to nil. They would definitely need a wardrobe upgrade.

"I do know one thing, though," Maddog stated.

"That your feet smell really bad?" Feral suggested.

"No, scum wad, that I ain’t wearing no dress."

***

The resident expert on clothes, shoes, miniature tea sets and other knick knacks was currently sitting in her office. Captain Buck had tastefully decorated it in rosewood antiques and fine lace doilies. Some of the Monkeys, who wish to remain anonymous, occasionally used the doilies for handkerchiefs. Currently the official head of McDonough’s Monkeys was sitting in her black leather swivel chair, feet propped up on desk, doing her nails over a detailed map of France.

"Captain?" The Feral Kid knocked on her office door.

"Enter," commanded the short brunette.

The Monkeys tromped into the room and plopped themselves down on the extra chairs. The glanced around the sumptuous room and wondered why their quarters were furnished with army surplus. They decided they’d steal the chairs later.

"Well," prompted Buck, not looking up from her nails.

"Captain," Rastro said, "we’d like to ask your advice on something."

Buck’s head came up at the word "advice". The Monkeys never asked her advice about anything. In fact, they studiously ignored all the orders that she gave them. Maybe, she thought to herself, chest inflating with pride (and the occasional late night cheesecake), they were finally realizing what a fine officer she was. Maybe they were finally coming to the realization that she had something useful to contribute to the team besides her father’s name. Maybe they’d figured out who really was in charge.

"We’ve all been invited to a ball and we need to buy appropriate clothing. We thought of you."

Maybe they were just coming to the conclusion that she was the only one with any dress sense worth mentioning. Sighing, Buck asked, "What ball?"

"It’s a famous English ball they give every year at this time," Rastro explained.

"What’s it called?"

"The Leper Ball," informed the car thief .

"Lepers like in body parts falling off lepers?" Buck asked, face contorting with disgust.

"Nah," Maddog explained, "it’s just some silly Brit name. You know, like spotted Dick."

"Oh, yeah," The officer nodded, thinking of the pudding they had eaten a few nights before. "So what’s a Leper?"

"Its, uh, well," Maddog trailed off, an idea not penetrating her spikey hair to her brain.

"Its an antiquated term for British regiments that spent time in India," Rastro informed loftily, ever being a source of British knowledge. For, as she frequently informed the other Monkeys, what they were speaking certainly wasn’t English. On their parts the other Monkeys still want to know why Rastro call "z" zed. But her lie worked, Buck had no idea of the true nature of the ball they were going to.

"Is it an invitation only ball?"

"Of course, only the best people in London get invited."

The brunette officer smile smugly for a moment and then tried to reason out how her entire outfit could be invited if only the best were supposed to attend. Probably invited them as a favor to me, she decided, knowing that I am always concerned about the welfare of my soldiers.

Rastro, Maddog and Feral leaned back in their chairs, sensing that Buck had fallen for the bait. "So you see, we need something to wear to the ball."

"I’ll say, you all look like you dressed from an Army cast off sale. A really cheap sale."

"Can’t all have Daddy paying for the latest fashions," Maddog mumbled under her breath as she played with the hole in her pants.

"What?" Buck asked sharply.

"Well, knowing you have the best taste in the outfit, we thought we’d come to you for advice."

"Hmm, is McDonough going too?"

"Yeah."

"Well, there’s only one thing for it then," Buck said standing up from her chair scattering pieces of her nails everywhere.

The Monkeys looked at their commanding officer in awe. She seemed sure of herself all of a sudden, filled with self-confidence, assurance, aplomb. She was a woman with a mission, a grand and fine and noble mission. Captain Buck was out to dress and accessorize her troops. "Its time to go...... shopping!"

***

"Hey," McDonough called out as Captain Buck threw an already packed parachute at her. "What’s going on?"

"We’ve an important mission, Lieutenant, urgent."

"Why wasn’t I informed?"

"You were out messing around with Chief behind the roses, again," Buck chided her supposed second-in-command.

The blonde’s fair face suffused with red, "I was not. I was, uh, planning a raid in Germany."

"So, Chief have the map tattooed to his back?" teased Feral.

"Nah, more like tattooed to his chest," interjected Rastro.

"I don’ know guys, looked more like she was looking at his.."

"Shut up, Maddog," growled McDonough. She hated being teased. "What’s this mission all about?"

"More like she was checking him for trouser snakes again," whispered Feral to her fellow convicts. They started snorting softly. McDonough glared at them for a moment before fixing her gaze on the Captain. "Well?"

"Our skills are needed in Paris for an undercover mission that only we can perform," Buck informed her as the group got onboard the plane and buckled themselves in. Feral began getting nervous, jumping out of planes was never her favorite thing to do. McDonough’s question went unanswered for several minutes as the plane took off for France, speeding through the night across the English channel.

"Captain," the blonde, former healer of lepers yelled across the sound of the engines. "Paris is totally occupied by the Nazi’s. What are we supposed to do there? Help out a group of resistance fighters?"

"No."

"Oh, is it another explosives job? Blow a convoy?"

"No, nothing like that."

"What then? Forgery, murder, throwing a spanner in the dreadful Nazi menace’s works?"

"Actually," Buck said as she glanced up from the underwear catalog she had been leafing through, "we’re going shopping."

"Shopping?"

"Yes, we’ve been invited to a fancy dress ball and I simply don’t have anything to wear. Neither does anybody else, including you."

Lt. Kelly "Blood and Guts" McDonough was career army. She been in hard places, done hard things (with hard things) but nothing had prepared her for this, nothing could prepare her for... shopping with Captain Buck.

***

The parachute jump into the French countryside outside of Paris was as fraught with danger as another Monkey’s mission. Hostile German soldiers, hostile French collaborators, hostile French insects and of course, Monkey farts.

***

The march to Paris took the rest of the night. Dawn was breaking as they reached the safe house that Captain Buck had been leading them to all night. "There it is," she whispered and pointed to a two story brick and gray stucco dwelling. "I knew I'd could find it."

"Hell, she could find a clothing store if it was buried under a ton of whale poop and in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean," Maddog whispered to Feral.

"She'd find it in the middle of the Pacific under two tons of giant squid if there was an underwear sale," Feral countered.

"She could find a bra sale if it was held on the moon and only four-titted beings from the planet Venus were invited," Rastro interjected.

Feral and Maddog stared at the Australian. What good would four-titted bras do Buck? As far as they knew she had only two. The two convicts looked at each other and shrugged. Things must be different down under, they figured.

"Move it," Blood 'n Guts ordered irritably. She'd been silent ever since the march through the French countryside had begun. It was ridiculous, she thought, risking their lives just so they could look good at some idiotic dance! There was a war going on, damn it! And here they were in a Paris occupied by murdering Nazi scum looking to buy some silly frocks just so they'd look good. And look good for what? That's what she wanted to know. Who was she trying to impress? Chief didn't care what she wore, he loved her for her fierce yet tender, caring and sensitive, personality. McDonough sighed to herself, maybe it was time to show the Gorilla that she looked good in something besides green and khaki.

The Monkeys slipped up to the house and Captain Buck quietly knocked on the door. After several seconds a voice called out something in French through the door. The Monkeys looked at one and other wondering what was said. Buck responded in English, "LeBeau, it's me, Buck!"

"‘Ow do I know this isn't some trick? Can you prove you are who you say?"

"Of course, ask me anything!"

"If you have on a purple paisley skirt what color and style shirt do you wear?"

"That's a trick question!" huffed the supposed leader of the Monkeys.

"Answer the question or I'll call the guards!"

Glancing at the rapidly rising sun, Buck responded, "You don't wear any shirt because you never, ever wear purple paisley!"

There was no reply from LeBeau, but a few seconds later the door opened and the Monkeys filed inside. From the outside the building had appeared to be nothing special, another nondescript dwelling, but inside it was incredible. Swaths of cloth were piled everywhere. Dressmakers dummies were lined up in formation, all with clothes in various states of completeness on them. Lingerie was hung on walls so that the original surfaces couldn't even be seen. In short, it looked like a hundred dress shops had exploded in LeBeau's house.

"Wow," all the Monkeys except Maddog whispered, their eyes big with delight, thoughts of getting a new wardrobe dancing in their heads.

"Yuck," went Maddog who didn't spot one pair of Levis anywhere in the shop. She spotted a chair that didn't have a ton of clothes on it and plopped down. Judging by the drool running down her friends' chins it was going to be a very, very long day. She pulled a book out of her knapsack entitled Zen and the Art of Harassing Your Friends and started reading.

"Buck! It is so good to see you!" LeBeau gushed at his favorite customer. Before the war Buck would visit him frequently, buying whole new wardrobes every few months. The underwear sales alone had sent LeBeau's children to University.

"LeBeau, I've missed you also. Since the war started I've worn nothing but Army wear! It's so, so, dull. I can't stand it."

"Tch, tch, I understand, the sacrifices one makes during wartime," the clothier shook his head gently in sympathy. "What brings you to Paris? The Nazi's are everywhere!"

"We've," Buck indicated herself and her troops, "been invited to a fancy dress ball in London! Of course we don't have a single decent outfit among us and..." the captain's voice trailed off as it filled with emotion, "we have no accessories!"

LeBeau's hands flew up in horror, his eyes growing wide with distaste. Composing himself, he held up a finger in front of Buck's face. "Say no more, my little Buckie, I will get for you the best dressed I have and accessorize you thoroughly!"

"Oh, thank you LeBeau!" Buck gushed. McDonough, Feral and Rastro also nodded happily, eager for the chance to get new clothes.

Maddog glanced up from her book, a look of horror on her face.

***

Nine long (interminable for Maddog) hours later, the Monkeys had settled on what they were going to wear to the Leper ball. Buck had gone for a traditional black evening gown. Feral had gone for a v cut emerald number that showed off her large tracks of land. Rastro had chosen a black sheath. McDonough had gone for a royal blue dress that set off her eyes. They all had been accessorize right down to matching purses and shoes. LeBeau didn't have much in the way of jewelry but he assured them that the minimalist look was in, what with the war and everything.

"Beautiful," LeBeau exclaimed, making kissing noises. "You all look absolutely lovely! Stunning!"

The Monkeys preened at the compliments. It was not often that any of them were told how good looking they were. Well, Buck heard it the most, but she tended not to gloat too much since she didn't want to get her bed filled with shaving cream and Vegemite by jealous Monkeys.

"Great," Maddog chimed in, she hadn't moved from the chair she had plopped down in earlier. "Can we leave now?"

Blood 'n Guts looked over at the arsonist, who was still decked out in baggy US army wear complete with fashionable holes. "Maddog, you twit, why aren't you dressed?"

"I'm not naked!"

"That's not what I meant, dummy. Go and put on the dress you picked out. Hurry it up, we want to leave as soon as it gets dark."

"I'm not going to wear any of that stuff. Thought I'd just put on a clean shirt or something." Maddog's face contorted in disgust as she looked at what her fellow Monkeys were wearing. Not an ounce of cotton on them anywhere! Not to mention the complete lack of denim! And where had LeBeau managed to get silk stockings in the middle of Nazi occupied France, anyway?

"You are not going to a fancy dress ball dressed like a bum! Not as long as you're one of McDonough's Monkeys! We have a reputation to uphold!" McDonough fumed.

"As what? The biggest farters on the Allied side?" Maddog countered. She was promptly hit upside the head by Buck's beaded bag. It hurt, she protested, "Hey!"

"LeBeau," the captain sighed, "do you think you can do anything with her?"

The French clothier looked Maddog up and down. The woman didn't appear like she'd be a hard size to fit. "Should not be a problem, Buckie." He informed her as he started gathering dresses for the woman to try on.

"No, no," protested Maddog, "I can't wear a dress!"

"Why not? Scars?" Rastro asked, as she picked at the hem of her dress trying to figure out where she was going to hide her collection of knives in it.

"Burns from a job gone bad?" Feral interjected.

"A complete lack of taste?" McDonough added sardonically.

"I'm bifurcated," Maddog explained.

"Huh?" went the rest of the group, LeBeau included.

"I'm bifurcated," the convict pointed to her legs. "See the trunk splits into two units. Each needs its own separate covering, therefore, I must wear pants."

The Monkeys looked at each other for a moment. Finally, Buck said what they were all thinking, "That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard in my life! Now you go and try on the outfits that LeBeau has picked out for you or I'll have you shot."

"You can't have me shot for not wanting to wear some stinking dress!" the arsonist whined in her best whiney voice.

"I can and will! Now do it," Buck ordered, eyes flashing, angry that her good mood was being ruined.

"No," wailed Maddog as LeBeau led her to the dressing room. "Pants and shirt! Only pants and shirt!"

It only took a few moments for the convict to change, she was wearing a pink flowered, lacy number with spaghetti straps. She stood, hunched over, obviously trying to avoid contact with any of the material.

"Stand up straight," barked Buck. The Monkeys looked at Maddog. She looked strange in the dress. It seemed, unnatural somehow, perhaps it was the pink flowers. "No," they all agreed, "try another one."

Maddog tried another one and another one and another one. She never did know how many she tried on. Each one had a problem with it. Thoughts of torching the entire house danced in her head. She mentioned that idea to the Frenchmen under her breath.

LeBeau, frightened that his business was about to go poof, was beginning to despair that he would run out of styles before he found one that fit the woman just right. Then an idea hit him. It hurt. He went into the back bedroom and came out with an outfit that he passed to the American.

Maddog came out of the dressing room. She was dressed in pleated white pants, ruffled shirt, black tuxedo jacket with tails, and matching red cummerbund and tie. "I like this," she smiled happily at the Frenchmen.

"With the right accessories it will be quite fashionable," LeBeau assured his other customers.

Buck, fashion coordinator to McDonough’s Monkeys, looked at her unwilling soldier. "Turn around," she ordered. Nodding, she had to agree that LeBeau was right. The tuxedo somehow worked on Maddog as none of the evening gowns did. Maybe Maddog was bifurcated. "It'll do. We've got to get out of here if we're going to make the sub rendezvous."

"Wonderful!" LeBeau exclaimed, shooing Maddog off to change back into her own clothes. The other Monkeys had already changed into their Army duds. The clothier quickly wrapped all of their gowns, shoes, lingerie and accessories. The clothes were quickly stowed in the backpacks they had brought.

"And 'ow will you be paying today, Buckie?"

"They'll be paying," she indicated the felons in the group. They always had money, stolen she suspected.

"Wot!" Rastro exclaimed, her words echoed by the others. "Why should we pay for your clothes?"

"Because if you don't I'll have you shot for forging the travel papers that we used to get here." Buck explained as she tried on another pair of gloves. No sense wasting even one precious moment of fine shopping.

Maddog, Feral and Rastro put their heads together. Buck had them over a barrel. They had forged travel papers. Would their commanding officer have them shot? Probably. There was no help for it. Swearing under their breath, they asked LeBeau for the total. His response, a huge sum of money, resulted in more cursing. However, they managed to scrape up enough cash in German marks, Swiss and French Francs, British Pounds and American Dollars to satisfy the man. They swore to get Buck one day. Perhaps serving her cheesecake every day until she exploded out of her clothes.

The Monkeys said their good-byes to LeBeau, Buck having an especially tearful moment as she looked at all the clothes she had not yet tried on. They disappeared into the French night and headed toward the coast. They needed to steal a vehicle in order to make their rendezvous point.

***

"Have you spotted a truck yet?" Captain Buck asked irritably, her heavily burdened pack was cutting into her shoulders.

"Not yet," came Feral's hushed reply.

"Damn," Buck muttered, and then she spotted something out of the corner of her eye. It was moving. It was, in fact, slithering. It was a snake. Buck yelped and tried to scurry away from the reptile, and in the process managed to fall right near it. A sharp pain shot through her. "Help! Help! I'm bit!"

The Monkeys quickly came running towards their commanding officer, all asking what had happened.

"There was a snake! It bit me!"

The women looked around at the surrounding vegetation and caught a glimpse of a snake slithering off into the bush.

Lieutenant McDonough, the most familiar with reptilian life from her work in Borneo exclaimed, "Oh, shit, that's a Bolivian Bushmaster!"

"A what?" Buck whimpered.

"A Bolivian Bushmaster! Wow, that's one really poisonous snake!" Blood 'n Guts commented just before she glanced at Buck. The Monkeys looked at each other for a moment and then at their commanding officer, who was trying to turn her head around for a better look at the offending bite.

"What's a Bolivian snake doing in France?" Maddog asked just as McDonough pulled out a revolver and stuck it in her face. "Hey, it was only a question, no need to get huffy."

"Suck out the poison!"

"What?"

"Suck the poison out of the Captain's wound! Captain Buck, get your pants down!"

"Bet that line's been said a couple thousand times," Feral whispered to Rastro, both cons being happy that the con wasn't pointed at them.

"No way!" Maddog said, a look of distaste distorting her mouth. "I am not sucking out the poison that the Bolivian Bushmaster that bit Buck's butt left. Eeuuu."

McDonough responded by cocking the gun. Maddog folded her arms in front of her and looked stubborn. Trying on dresses was one thing, she figured, sucking Buck's butt was an entirely different matter.

"Would somebody please suck my butt!" the brunette officer wailed, her pants already pulled down to expose the offended area.

"Maddog, suck that butt or I'll shoot you!"

"No way. Why don't you make her do it," the arsonist indicated the red-headed Australian, "She eats Vegemite. Buck's butt can't taste any worse than that. Besides, she has a knife to cut open the wound. I don't."

"Would you guys just hurry up!" interjected Buck.

"You have a point," McDonough swung the gun around and pointed it at the knife wielding woman's head. "Rastro, suck Buck's butt. That poison needs to be removed now."

"You're the nurse, why don't you do it?"

"Because I have the gun. Now suck!"

Deciding that she really, really had no choice in the matter, Rastro bent over Buck's butt with very sharp knife in hand. It could be worse, she thought, it could be McDonough's butt. Now that butt would take all night to suck all the poison out of.

"Would you hurry up! I can feel the poison working already. Yipe!" the captain yelped.

"Ya big baby," Rastro responded, shaking her head in disgust. "Your butt was bit by no Bolivian Bushmaster. Your new undies had a pin in them!" She held up the offending item for all to see.

Captain Buck sighed loudly in relief and pulled up her pants. It would have been horrible to die before she got to wear all her new clothes. The Monkeys continued on their journey back to Britain. No further incidents occurred. No snakes were killed. No butts were sucked.

***

"Hey Maddog, help me tie this thing, will ya?" Casino asked as he let loose the ends of his bow tie. He was outfitted in a sharp looking black tuxedo. Combined with his dark eyes and hair he looked like a million dollars or a mobster out for the night. "How'd you get yours done so fast?"

"Pretended it was McDonough's neck," the woman responded as she came over and tied the car thief's bow tie. "There, perfect."

"Thanks."

"Oi, Maddog, you seen Garrison?" The Australian woman came into the sitting room where the other convicts were sitting. She was dressed in the black sheath which left little to the imagination. No one knew it but there were six knives hidden on her person. She hoped that Garrison didn’t grab her too tightly during any of the dances or she’d be seriously injured.

"Wow," Casino whistled as he saw her. He'd never seen any of the Monkey's besides Buck dressed in anything but fatigues. "Garrison said he had to go out and run an errand. He'll be back quick."

Chief and McDonough next entered the room. Chief had gone for a white jacketed tuxedo, the better to set off his darker complexion. McDonough was in her royal blue dress with a matching hat. The other Monkeys had suggested that the dress would be better complimented by a burlap sack over her head but she had ignored them. It hadn't been difficult.

"Actor, you don't think that this dress makes me look fat do you?" Captain Buck's voice drifted into the room. She and the tall con-man were walking towards the gathering.

"Of course not," Actor replied smoothly. He knew better than to say anything else to that comment. Men had been killed for responding incorrectly. "You look beautiful," he commented as he kissed her hand. Buck blushed slightly in response.

"Well, what do you think?" Goniff, the English thief entered the room, doing a little spin so that the tails of his black tuxedo whipped around.

"You look very handsome," Feral commented as she entered the room, her emerald green, v-cut dress sweeping the floor as she entered. Casino's face brightened considerably as he saw his date and was pleased to note that her heels weren't too high so that they could dance all night.

"Hey, Maddog," Goniff called out wandering over to his date, "we match," He indicated their matching tuxedo/cummerbund attire.

"Yeah, that's why I told you to get red, so we'd be matching. Thought it'd look cute."

"Why didn't you wear a dress, then, like the others?"

"Cause I'm bifurcated," the arsonist told him in a low, serious tone.

"Oh," Goniff nodded knowingly. He had no clue to what that meant but figured it was probably some woman thing.

"Well, are we all here?" Lieutenant Craig Garrison breezed into the room. His short tuxedo jacket showing off the asset that Rastro loved so much. Voices called out in agreement and he smiled. "Wonderful, I've managed to secure a car for the evening. Do we have the invitation?"

Buck held up the envelope and the happy group was off to the leper ball.

***

Chief drove, as usual, through the darkened streets of London. While the car was a large Rolls, it was still a tight fit for the Gorillas, Monkeys and Monkey accessories.

"Hey, Feral, what do you call three lepers in a hot tub?"

"I'd don't know, Maddog, what?"

"Stew."

There was some laughter in the car which caused everybody to shift around. This made it more difficult for Chief to control the car and he told them all to sit still.

"Sorry Chief," Maddog apologized, not in the least bit sorry. The Leper Ball was going to be fun! She wondered if anybody's nose would drop off in the punch, that'd be a laugh.

"Hey Feral, what do you call a leper with no arms and no legs in front of your door?"

"I don't know Rastro, what?"

"Matt."

"Aw, come on, that's sick," Casino objected.

"Hey, Maddog, what do you call a leper with no arms and no legs stuck to your wall?"

"I don't know, Feral, what?"

"Art."

"Hey Rastro, what do you call a leper with no arms and legs in your pool?"

"I don’t know Maddog, what?"

"Bob."

"All right, no more jokes!" Garrison yelled as the car nearly ran into a pole. "Besides, the Leper Ball has nothing to do with lepers."

"How do you know that?" Rastro asked, poking him in the ribs.

"Captain Buck told me that the Leper Ball honors men who have served in India."

"Yeah, right, and pigs fly," Feral commented under her breath.

"They do if they fart as much as you," retorted Maddog.

"At least small countries aren't trying to recruit me for their biological weapons program."

"That's because they don't have the technology to contain the smell."

"Mhhh," the tall red-head stuck out her tongue.

"Hey, honey, don't take that thing out unless you're going to use it," Casino interjected, getting into the spirit of the teasing.

"Yeah, Feral, my shoes need a bit of cleaning, if you've got a moment," said Rastro.

"Mine too," chimed in Goniff.

Feral, car thief extraordinare, wondered again how she had ended up with this lot of stupid people. She stuck her tongue back in her mouth in order to make a comment but was halted by the car coming to an abrupt halt.

"All right, everybody out!" Lieutenant Blood 'n Guts McDonough ordered, thoroughly disgusted by the car ride.

The group unloaded from the car and started up the grand marble steps that led up to the stately mansion where the ball was being held. The men held out their arms and escorted their dates upwards toward the music that was gently floating out of the doors. McDonough gave her invitation to the doorman who nodded gravely and motioned for them to enter. People were mingling and a small group were dancing as they entered the main ballroom. There they split off in different directions, some for dancing, some for the buffet.

Chief and McDonough decided to dance first, the Indian being surprisingly good at the waltz. It took a few moments for Blood and Guts to notice something odd about many of the dancers, they were swathed in bandages. The next time she was twirled around she took a closer look at somebody with an open sore on his hand. She froze. The Leper Ball was, in fact, populated by lepers! She looked around for the rest of her group. They were all happily mingling and dancing away, smiles all around.

"Lieutenant McDonough," a voice called out. It was Father Duesmont, a French priest that she had known in Borneo. "I'm so happy that you could attend!"

"Ahh, of course Father, good seeing you again," McDonough tried to control the tremor in her voice. She hated being around lepers. They were always...

"And here’s a drink for you," the good priest handed the former leper nurse a glass of wine. There was a nose floating in it.

They were always losing body parts in your drink, McDonough finished the thought to herself as she gracefully took the drink. Revulsion would have to wait until later. She looked around for the Monkeys. Somebody was going to pay. Somebody was really, really going to regret this. She threw the drink and nose in a nearby potted plant while she contemplated torture.

THE END