MISSING SCENE: The Dippy Blond Affair

IT'S ALL IN THE GAME AFFAIR

G M

Trapped.

Again!

Why must I always succumb to an obvious ploy when I know it is an ensnarement?

Irritating.

Electric door.

I suppose I could try some ingeniously clever secret device. Too bad I packed the wire-cutters in my heel. And my cuff links are homing devices, not explosives.

The door looks solid.

I left the electronic scrambler in my other tie tack

I suppose I'll simply have to wait until someone opens the door. Or someone comes to the rescue.

Rescue?

HA!

I wonder if my partner can spare the time.

That is really an unnecessarily rude and sarcastic thought. My partner has never yet failed to rescue me. He has cut it too close on many occasions, but has never failed. Just as I have never failed to come to his aid on time. On the many times I have had to save him!

What an absurd game we play! I get caught, you rescue me. You get caught, I rescue you. Ridiculous cycle.

It makes us both look like incompetent fools . . no, it makes us seem too dependent on each other . . . when, of course, we aren't . . too. . . dependent . . .

I could probably get out of this myself -- I know I could. Anytime.

However, it's part of the game to be rescued. It will give my friend something to do. And, I'm sure, in the very near future, I will be required to rescue him. It keeps him from getting too cocky. Then I will not use up my time worrying about him. He gets into constant trouble -- at least if I rescue him I know he'll get out of it all right. Sometimes a partner can be such a lot of responsibility. So I will ask to be rescued.

These requests must be handled just right. The phrasing must have just the right amount of intrigue to make it mysterious. Add a little dramatic exaggeration to make it seem perilous and absolutely vital to my continued good health. Oh . . and it must not, by any means, sound like I'm ASKING him to rescue me! That would never do. That's not part of the game.

"Napoleon?"

"Illya?"

"I hate to trouble you with trivia, but I think I'm about to die. And it struck me that you might want to say goodbye."

There. Just the right amount of drama and danger. Napoleon's innate chivalry can never resist such a plea.

"Goodbye."

Goodbye?

What kind of an answer is that?

"Napoleon? Napoleon?"

That is not part of the game.

Odd. He didn't sound right. Almost as if . . the channel is dead. Blast, Napoleon, this is not part of the game! You are supposed to rescue me. Now you have been captured.

Or worse.

Anyway, he's in trouble. He usually is. Why do I worry? He can usually get himself out of trouble almost as easily as he gets into it.

Usually.

It's his incredible luck. Get's him through things he has no right surviving. Sometimes his luck is that I'm able to reach him just in time. Someday his luck will run out. If it ever does, then it will be my loss.

Sometimes this game is not so much fun as we like to make each other think.

It is now my turn to play the rescuer. I am not amused, Napoleon. You wear the image of shining armor so much better than I do. Perhaps when all this foolishness is behind us, we must have a talk about this game. I no longer think I wish to play.

Now, about this door . . .

THE END