Wiley Stinks Is Up To Something

          Ducky Bumps noticed it first. A subtle change in Wiley’s demeanor. Then I caught him softly singing, “Workin’ on the Chain Gang” and doing a little two-step. Weird. We pretty much don’t mess with Wiley. He’s a great cook, and a frugal cook, and he does his own thing—he has autonomy. He walks to work. He washes his hands. Who messes with that?

           When he started draping the dining room with crepe streamers and making party favors, we had no choice.

           “Wiley, are you ingesting some kind of new food or pharmaceutical group substance these days,” Ducky Bumps asked diplomatically?

           “Yous are always so thoughtful,” Wiley allowed. “The answer is nope I’m just naturally ecstatic. See, in two days I’m discharged from parole. I’m baking a cake!”

           “That’s GREAT,” we both said in unison.

           “Wiley,” I asked, “what, exactly, were you convicted of?”

           “Felony abuse of U.S. Postal regulations,” Wiley grinned.

           “No, what I mean is, what did you do?”

           “Well, I stole the stink bag out of a skunk and stuffed it in Governor Louie Headbolt’s mailbox at the Mansion in Baton Rouge. Thought I got away with it too. Turns out they just didn’t notice it for two weeks. That was a felony in them days. Got 34 years. Thirty three on probation. Done in two days.

           “Nice story, Stinks,” Ducky Bumps snarled, “What about all those missing automobiles I heard about down the FBI?! What’d they say? Two hundred or so?”

           “Oh. That,” said Wiley, his grin going straight. “What kind of cake do you want for the party?”