The radio was all abuzz with the news!  Could it be real?  Could it be true?  Would Pickles finally open the doors of The Tabloid News to allow some lucky visitors in?  Five Golden Tickets had been included in random issues of The Tabloid News.  Little children learned how to read just so they could buy a copy.  Old men got off their deathbeds for a chance to mingle with the famed French Maids.  This would be the chance of a lifetime, a chance to finally see the inner workings of The Tabloid News!

[Montage] Everybody buys copies of The Tabloid News complete with peppy song, and spinning newspapers showing headlines.  

 And just show a lot of things happenin' at once.
Remind everyone of what's goin' on. (What's goin' on?)
And with every shot, show a little improvement
To show it won't take too long.
That's called a montage. (Montage)
Even Rocky had a montage! (Montage)

Always fade out (Montage) into a montage... (Montage)
If you fade out it seems like a long time (Montage) has passed in a montage... (Montage)
Montage... (Montage)

Five noted mobsters stand in front of the gates of the hallowed Tabloid News offices, Vaticus, Phil Steak, Lilac Delaney, CashMoneyMillionaire (Cash from now on), and Space Cowboy, looking up in awe and wonder.  A French Maid comes to the gate an opens it to allow the five inside.  They walk into the lobby of the building and stare at the opulence of marble and oak.  They walk over to an elevator and wait.  The door slides open, and Pickles greets them and begins to sing . . . 

Come with me and you'll be

In a world of news investigation
Take a look and you'll see
Into literary domination

We'll begin with a spin
In the world of news extraordinary
What we'll see will defy
The Calamari

If you want to view paradise
Simply look around and view it
Anything you want to write, do it
Want to shame the world, there's nothing to it

There is no life I know
To compare with news investigation
Living there, you'll be free
If you truly wish to be.

.

The five winners and Pickles get inside the elevator and move down to the basement.  The door opens on complex printing machinery humming and chugging with efficiency.  Mountains of newsprint surround the presses, and a river of ink flows through the room.

“HEY!  Somebody clean up this ink spill!” screamed Pickles.   Little Swedish children come out from nowhere, seemingly appearing out of the woodwork, running around with mops.  They start singing a song . . .

Hjälp oss, hjälp oss, få oss härifrån.
Vi är trötta på att arbeta för detta diktator.
Vi behöver bättre arbetsvillkor.
Allvarligt, någon ringer svenska ambassaden!

Phil Steak looks at them as they hustle to clean the mess.  “Pickles!  I want one!  I think they’d be a great addition to my HQ.  I could use a good cleaning service, and they look like they work cheap!”

”Sorry, Phil, but I can’t let them go.”

“Now see here, Pickles!  I am not a man used to being told ‘No.’”

“Really?  That’s not what your girlfriend tells me.”

”What was that?”

“Oh, nothing!  Nothing at all.  But, I’m sorry, I can’t let them go.”

Phil starts yelling and screaming and ranting about cement shoes and making Pickles disappear.  As he’s storming around the room, he slips on the wet, inky floor and falls into a printing press, and is smushed through and comes out printed onto paper.

”He always did want to make it into the funny papers.  Children, clean his mess up!”

The Swedish Children start cleaning the machines to remove Phil’s remnants from the presses, and sing a song.

Phil Steak trodde att han skulle få sin egen väg.
Men vi har kontrakt och är här för att stanna.
Nu är han död, och en del av nyheterna.
Och lämnade oss med en otrolig röra!

The tour gets back onto the elevator and travel to a large room full of hard working newspaper types, clicking and clacking away on their type writers.  The smell of cigarette smoke fills the room.  All hard working reporters smoke cigarettes.

“These are my reporters, working away writing new articles for me to approve.  Over here is Fred.  He’s in charge of the Romance bureau.”

Fred waves.

“He keeps track of all the naughty nightly doings of people in our fair cities.  If a single woman gets kissed by a werewolf, goes out to tea with a vampire, or has another one of Big Foot’s children, he finds out.”

Cash runs over to Fred to bribe him to not write certain stories about her.

“Over there is Red Watch’s desk, she writes the advice column, but right now she’s on vacation in Vermont climbing rocks.”

Pickles leads them past Red’s desk full of letters from concerned mafia unable to handle their own problems, and takes them to a small room.  He opens the door, and shows them an very old man (older than Deadly Sin) asleep at his desk.  Behind him is a picture of a large, blue eagle with darts stuck in his image.

“This is the fact checking room, where we verify everything to make sure every word we print is the gospel truth!”

Space Cowboy looks around the room.  “This looks pretty easy, Pickles, I want to try it out.”

“Wait just a moment, Cowboy, there’s an even better room I want to show you . . . the supply closet!”  Space Cowboy grabs a telephone to call the sexual harassment hotline.  “No, it’s not like that, this is where we keep all of our investigation equipment.”  Pickles leads them to a giant room full of cameras, sound recorders, disguises, periscopes, binoculars, and all manner of super secret spy equipment that is so super secret it would scare everyone.  Cowboy notices Santa’s Naughty/Nice list.

“I was to be an investigator!  I want to spy on people!”  Space Cowboy grabs a pair of binoculars and a camera and starts running behind Cash taking pictures of her.  The flash from the bulb seems to get brighter and brighter!  It looks like a strobe light, blinding everyone in the room.

“No, Cowboy, don’t!” mumbled Pickles.  “She doesn’t like that.  That’s why we have a telephoto lens.”  Cash grabs a fountain pen off a table and stabs Space Cowboy in the throat.  One of the French Maids sees this, and grabs her handcuffs and places Cash under citizen’s arrest wrestling her to the floor in the process.  A large barrel of baby oil spills on them as they tussle on the ground (wait, no it didn’t!  Stop thinking like that everyone!)  Vaticus seems keenly interested in this process.  Pickles slides him a small spy camera with a wink.  Pickles snaps his fingers, and other French Maids come out with a body bag.

Vous ne devriez jamais espionner une femme
Parfois, on ne l'aime pas!
D'autres fois, c'est bon.
Mais, apparemment, pas cette fois.

The French Maids give Pickles a kiss before hauling the body to the trash heap, and leading Cash out of the building.

Vaticus, Lilac, and Pickles get into the elevator and stop at the 47th floor.  “This is an interesting part of the tour, since it has nothing to do with creating a newspaper at all.  It’s the head quarters for 47 Enterprises ©®™ which is a side business I have.”  They look around the strange room which seems to be like a garden inside a building (no, not a hydroponics garden silly potheads).  There’s a river running through the large room, and they get into a boat, piloted by yet another French Maid.  (You’re right, a river would be silly.  It’s just a golf cart decorated like a pirate ship . . . a Dread Pirate pirate ship).

Round the world and home again
That's the sailor's way
Faster faster, faster faster

There's no earthly way of knowing
Which direction we are going
There's no knowing where we're rowing
Or which way the river's flowing

Is it raining, is it snowing
Is a hurricane a-blowing

Not a speck of light is showing
So the danger must be growing
Are the fires of Hell a-glowing
Is the grisly reaper mowing

Yes, the danger must be growing
For the rowers keep on rowing
And they're certainly not showing
Any signs that they are slowing

Pickles turns around, staring sternly at Vaticus and Lilac.  “Which one of you fools took LSD before the trip?  Some people’s children!”  Pickles makes them sit in a chair until the drugs wear off, then he resumes the tour.  They get out of the Dread Pirate Ship Golf Cart and walk into a warehouse.  It’s full of the old 47 Enterprises Collection ready for purchase.  There’s the 47 Enterprises Instant Soap Box appropriate for all street speeches.  On display is the ever-popular 47 Enterprises Novelty Bullet Proof Vest, guaranteed not to stop anything - a great gift for your favorite enemy.  A book shelf is lined with Mafia Fairy Tales and Bedtime Stories.  And, on a table is a stack of the old Captain Mafia comic book.  They go further into the warehouse to a large door marked Dick Gozinya collection.

 “Lilac, you might wish to use this blindfold as to not offend your delicate sensibilities.”  Everyone shares a good laugh.  They enter the room, and Vaticus starts running around looking at the Dick Gozinya Guide to Adult Bookstores, the Dick Gozinya Guide to Korean Massage Parlours, and the Dick Gozinya Edited Confessions to Father Pat McGroin.  Then, he runs up to a large set of volumes on an oak bookshelf.

“Is this . . . ?” stammered Vaticus.  “Can it really be . . .?”

“Yes, Vaticus.  That’s Dick Gozinya’s Little Black Book, complete with footnotes, and cross references.  But, be careful, I don’t think you . . . ”  Vaticus starts climbing on the bookshelf trying to reach volume A, when the shelf tips over and squishes him like a bug.  “. . . are ready for this.  Great!  Maids, another cleanup, please!”

The French Maids come in, set the bookshelf upright, and start filing the numerous volumes away while hauling Vaticus’ corps away in another body bag.  Lilac turns to Pickles, “Why do you have so many body bags in a news paper office?”  The French Maids start singing again.  

Certains hommes ne sont pas capables de traiter les femmes
Les femmes aussi belles que nous sommes
Non chaque homme est viril
que nos bien-aimés Pickles.

.

Pickles and Lilac leave the 47 Enterprises warehouse, and take the elevator to the top floor.  Marble pillars line the red carpet leading from the elevator to Pickles office.  The 20 foot cieling is painted with glorious depictions of the Pickles lineage in a very Sistene fashion.  French Maids are waiting by the door, feather dusters in hand to lead him into his office.  Pickles turns to Lilac Delaney.

“Well . . . why are you still here?  Did you cause enough trouble when you snuck in here last time?  Now, off you with you!”

The French Maids haul Lilac to a side door, hand her a parachute, and push her out into the openness.  

Nous aimons mieux que vous Pickles
Nous sommes heureux de l'avoir à nouveau
Les Nouvelles tabloïd est le meilleur journal
Mieux que l'encre de seiche, c'est certain.

CASHMONEYMILLIONARE stands outside the gates of the 47 Enterprise, her arms folder over her chest and a very, very smug look on her face.

Of course....of course this would happen...

She grumbled to herself.

Of course Lilac would be the last to leave Pickles side.

CASH kicked a rock further into the gutter as she stepped off the curb.

Why don't they just elope already, then they won't have to sneak around each others news rooms doing the nasty dirty in quick fashion.

CASH headed down the street plotting ways to take over 47 Enterprises.

In the fleeting moment before being crushed to death by the toppling bookshelf, one of the tomes of Dick Gozinya's "Little Black Book" (or more fittingly, the "Very Expansive and All Inclusive Black Library"), flicks open.. Vaticus glimpses a name on the page as he hurtles towards the floor - "D.P. Pickles".

Vaticus' eyes glow brightly for an instant, attempting to yell "Scandal!", but all he can get out is, "SCA!", before being instantaneously flattened by the massive book case.

Miss CASH, last to leave his side indeed, but at what cost? Look at me. I'm on crutches, I have 14 broken bones and my dignity is all but gone due to the elastic in my panty-hoes snapping during my freefall (that's right folks, Pickles rigged my parachute). All I have are memories of was before. My future will never be the same; my bones had never once suffered so much as a blemish, yet now Pickles has managed to have his name etched into each and every fracture. Such is the depth of his intent towards me.

Still. I can always cling to the fact that our tour revealed his prior intimacy with Dick Gozinya. I was just beginning to struggle for The Calamari's next gossip material. Now, my only struggle is with getting out of bed without falling face first to the floor and bruising my beautiful porcelain features.