Part 22

MICKEY

in large purple letters. 

"Well that's unusual." said Bo, puzzled, and a second later found himself sprawled out on the floor ten feet away, his face smarting where Tom Jones's foot had smashed into his jawbone.

Tom, meanwhile, was moving jerkily around the musty room, thrashing his arms about whilst belting, "Oh Mickey, you're so fine, you're so fine you blow my mind! HEY MICKEY! HEY MICKEY!" 

"Tom, I will have none of your tomfoolery at this dire moment in our plight! Not only are we holding an old woman hostage and must decode what logically appears to be an acronym, but I am also growing extremely hungry!"

"... what a pity, you don't understand" continued Tom who was now turning cartwheels. 

Suddenly, Bo remembered the other jar he had neglected to retrieve from beneath the floorboards. He reached his great dugong of an arm into the cavity and pulled out his prize, this one bigger than the first. He clamped his octopus of a hand around the lid, but before he had a chance to exert any minor effort to detach the rusty topper, he heard a loud crack behind him and felt a burning sensation in his right earlobe. Gingerly touching his smarting wound, he quickly withdrew his hand when his fingers encountered no earlobe where one should have been.

"HOLY BEARS THAT MAKES ME SICK LIKE ARMAGEDDON ON A STICK!" he howled as he wheeled around to be faced full on by the old woman clutching a smoking revolver.

"You think you've got the right to break into my house," she said in a nasty thin voice, "but I think you've got it wrong." 

And with that, she fired another shot that just whizzed past one of Tom Jones's twirling limbs. 

"M'am," said Bo, clutching his bleeding ear while simultaneously tapping into the reservoir of courtesy he had been saturated with at the monastery, "the monks have sent us on a wild musical journey... a mission from God, you might call it. We must smite the forces of evil in order to collect musicians and assemble a creation with the power to save our musical destiny!"

"Don't give me that crapola," spat the woman, "What, you think I'm the only person in the world who hasn't seen The Blues Brothers? You wanna start some drama? 'Cus you don't want no drama. I see right through you, punk. You're a piggy and a swine, I'll crack your spine and blow your mind!"

Tom continued singing and jumping, contorting his face into grotesque expressions, knocking over furniture and  kicking out windows with his flailing limbs. "Every time you move you let a little more show!" he belted.

The woman advanced fifteen baby steps closer so that her nose was pressed against Bo's forehead. She inhaled deeply and then inserted her tongue into his eyeball. 

Bo felt