Male/female alternating story word game!

Ummm...is this Lola's salon, or the Alternating Male/Female story thread?

It's The Best Little Whore House in Texas, not to be confused with Lola's Salon, even though it has the same name. This "Lola's Salon" is in Soho

Welcome to the story, Babs

General Fitzwilliam and his four cronies stride into Gerry Mander's conference room, noticing Gerry's meandering looks at Missy. "Where's the other girl?" asks the general. Gerry and Missy hadn't noticed that Jennifer had skipped. Their blank looks send the general into a rage. "Find that girl!!! She has information that must never be made public, for national security, of course."

Missy, beginning to understand that the government is going to block her story, says that she can probably find her sister if the general will give her 24 hours. "You aren't going anywhere, young lady. It's your story concerning the chronosynclastic infindubla that is of major national importance. If you have a patriotic bone in your body, you will never reveal what you know about the properties of this substance. Just think what we could do with it on the battle field? And, if you're thinking of publishing the story, read this revised revision of a revised set of laws that were just made up, er, developed by the Pentagon with the blessing of the president. You no longer have the right to publish anything without governmental approval. You may not speak to anyone else about this substance or else your father's military record will suddenly be changed to reflect a dishonorable discharge."

Missy, finally understanding that her recent paranoia was, indeed, based on reality, looked at the general with her best innocent look (Jen wasn't the only one in the family who knew how to make men turn into mush), and said, "Oh general, I would never dream of doing anything that would endanger my country (you asshole). I only meant that I would really love to help with the capture of my sister; she is only a teenager and isn't very responsible. I know how important this is and I want to do my part for the war effort and the president (that idiot from Crawford).

Knowing that the general isn't aware of the chronosynclastic infindibulate in her purse, Missy is desparate to get out of there and send the ash to a geeky friend from college who can analyze it and email the formula to the world, before the general gets his meaty hands on it. She looks at him with her big, innocent eyes and the general melts, never giving any thought to the fact that this attractive young woman might have a brain in her head.

The general mutters and stutters something about the dangers of national security and agrees to let her go, sending one of his cronies with her. The guy's name is Arnold; he has been stuffed into his uniform with muscles bulging everywhere. He eagerly steps to Missy's side and she blesses him with her innocent/ whorish Madonna look and says, "Oh, thank you general, for letting this fine man accompany me on the search for Jen (I'll lose him in the subway).

Missy and Arnold leave the general with a very worried Gerry Mander.

It is a great day to be on the streets of New York. Yesterday's horizontal rain and gusty winds have flown and this day's mid-morning has been blessed by the first sunshine in several days. Every street cafe's sidewalk seating is filled, every corner crossing has pedestrians stacked three deep waiting to cross, on their way to get bagels, on their way to pick the cleaning, on their way to a late breakfast, on their way with the dogs to the park. The sidewalks look like that shot from Tootsie, hundreds crowding each block, walking, toddling, jouncing, jostling along, each person making a little wake amidst the throng. Thus, it was easy for Missy at the second street corner to say "Oh my, there she is!" and be gone before Arnold turned his face back in her direction.

Nice try, Lola, sending us to your "other" place in Texas. Roger had heard of it; Ed thought it might be fun; Johnboy said "What's a whorehouse?" We're headed for NYC. We should get there tomorrow or Monday.
By the way, if you'd like to hear what kind of music Roger is listening to as he heads east and see the people he could be with, visit Bellamorte.com
Believe it or not, all six current or former members have worked for me at some time!

(Bravo, Diane!)

Jennifer pauses on a corner, looking at the street signs. It is so easy to get lost in the Big City...especially on foot. Now, where did Hiama say that salon was? And why would he want to get his hair done anyway? He didn't have much left, from what Jennifer had seen in the back of the stolen BMW.

Jennifer remembers that Hiama mentioned Soho, so she heads in that direction. She is getting very hungry, too. He did say they had good food there. She has second thoughts about eating in a hair salon full of permanent wave fumes, but she is too hungry to let that bother her for long. Free food is free food, she thinks, and that subway ticket had cost her her last pocket change.

As Jennifer turns the corner, she runs smack-dab into Missy, almost knocking her down. What good luck! Missy wants to head straight to the nearest FedEx office, but Jennifer convinces her to stop for dinner first.

Looking around them, Missy realizes they're in the West Village. Bleecker and MacDougall Streets. And on the corner is a nice coffe house. What's it say? Cafe 101.

"Let's stop here," says Missy.

"Yeah, well, ok," says Jen. "Maybe they'll know where to find this Lola's Salon."

"God, I am like so starved." Jen says as they head in the door. It's packed inside with thirty village people leaning against each other on line.
Missy makes her way up to the hostess. "How long a wait, please?" The hostess dressed in a black sheath looks at Missy for a moment "Thirty minutes" "That long!" Jenny whines. "Lookit," the hostess snaps" you want on the list or not?" She looks over Missy's shoulder and screams "Derrick, party of two, Derrick!" Missy looks at Jen and shrugs. A tall man and what looks like what could be either a man or a mannequin sail by the podium. "Shamika, party of four, Shamika" the hostess yells. "Um, would you put us down, party of two, Missy." Jennifer smiles at the hostess.
"Smoking or non" says sheathgirl. " Um, I didn't think there was smoking in....." "Non. right?" "Uh, right."
They make their way out of the cluster of people at the podium and settle near a pot of fake sunflowers.

Is she related to the soup nazi?

soup nazi's are very prompt

Promptly, sheath girl-soup nazi, screams, "Missy, party of two!"
As they enter, Missy whispers to Jen, "If anything happens to me, I'll try to give you an envelope I have in my purse. Take it to Harold Nussbaum, that old school chum of mine, you know, the cute geek with the big ears and feet." Jen smirked and said, "Yeah, I remember he had some rather large body parts." "Jen, listen," scolds Missy. "Tell him to analyze the contents and publish the formula on the internet so everyone will know how this stuff is made!"

"Look," Missy says to her sister. "I'm in just as much of a hurry as you are. The faster we eat, the sooner I can get Derek's ashes to the FedEx office."

"Derrick? The waiter?" Jennifer asks. "I thought there was no smoking in here."

"No, no," Missy starts to explain, but at that moment she notices the couple at the table closest to the podium has just left without taking their styrofoam-packed leftovers. Without attracting any attention, she picks up the boxes, winks at Jennifer, and the two of them leave the coffee house. "We can eat these on the subway on the way to the FedEx office," Missy explains and then stops. "Damn, I forgot to get silverware."

"I didn't!" Jennifer says, brandishing two sets. It appears both sisters have a talent for picking up odd objects, including men.

(Sorry, Diane! We must have posted at the same time! Let's see if I can straighten this out...can we assume your conversation took place on the way to their table, then they spotted the leftovers and left?)

Sounds good to me!

Hiama has left an offended Lolaback at the Salon, after placating her to some extent after lashings of apologies and offering to wash the disched for the next 10 years, He is now heading for Cafe 101 when he spots Missy and Jennifer sitting on a park bench filling their faces with food. He runs up to them and before he can reach them beefcake on legs military men descend on the two of them and they are whicked away in a big black mercedes with blacked out windows, Hiama catches the number plate " 5-ON", as it speeds away what can it mean ?

His headaches have been getting worse, so he decides to drop into Memorial Hospital before trying to figure out this latest turn of events. In the hospital he notices a nurse who makes Sophia Loren look anorexic, her curves don't so much descibe a parabola, they are a parabola. Happiness would be bumping in to her slowly and so he heads her way to seek some respite from the thumping inside his head. Meanwhile.....

Missy and Jennifer look at each other anxiously. Who is driving this Mercedes? There is a dark glass panel between them and the front seat where both military men sit. And...where are they being taken?

Jennifer whispers, "If I could only get a good look at them, I might think of a way out of this." Missy's expression is grim but determined. "They can do whatever they want, but the truth will come out. Good thing I spotted that FedEx box in the park before we stopped to eat."

The ashes are safely on their way to Harold Nussbaum at the forensic lab. He will receive them before 10 a.m....

just a wee little interjection aside from our story
folks. Dear, dear Lola, thanks for the welcome. (I know it's
The Best Little Whorehouse in Texas, but I decided that the
Chicken Ranch would be less objectionable to some of
our fellow story writers) Do you object to my using it in
the story? If so - I'll not mention it again.

I don't mind at all Babs. Seems appropriate enough to me.

(Run with it, Babs!)

Back to the story....

Howard Nussbaum looks over the top of his bifocals at the package FedEx has just delivered. No return address. Hmmm....

Opening it, he finds an envelope full of ashes and a note from Missy asking him to analyze the ashes and publish his findings on the internet. She has never sent him anything like this before, although others have, so Howard realizes this must be important. Always the soul of discretion, Howard has gained a reputation for handling cases outside normal channels.

The postscript on Missy's note intrigues him. "Please save the ashes after you are finished with them. I want to scatter them in a very special place, the..."

Wow, I'm an "Enthusiast in Training" now! No more "Newbie!"