Free Fun House by Chris Grabenstein

good-naturedly. The sky is, once again, partly cloudy.
    “Fortunately,” said Chip the narrator, “some undercover law enforcement officers had been trailing the psycho known to local authorities only as Skeletor.”
    Ceepak and I make our big entrance.
    Ceepak flashes his badge. “We’re with the Sea Haven Police Department.”
    And they cut to a grateful Paulie throwing up his hands. “I am so out of here. Thanks, guys.” He heads toward the restaurant—before all those dark clouds in his Saturday sky can open up and drench him.
    Back to Ceepak, Skeletor, and me. Three different angles. None of them very flattering. Except for the sky. It looks clear again.
    “Where is your helmet, sir?” says Ceepak.
    Skeletor kick-starts the bike and, in what they call a jump cut (because they chop out a whole chunk of action, which makes the film look jumpy) immediately tugs down on the Boonie hat’s leather straps.
    “I don’t need a BLEEPING helmet.”
    “Yes, you do.”
    They’ve eighty-sixed all of Ceepak’s polite “sirs” to make him sound more like a hardcase cop.
    “You need the full gear,” says Ceepak. He gestures at Skeletor’s hat. “Not the fool’s gear.”
    Friday, August 13, the day after our chase scene in the parking lot airs on Fun House , we’re back at the mobile production office.
    Ceepak and I are about to storm up the steps when out waltzes the mayor.
    Hugh Sinclair looks extremely happy. He is wearing his standard sunglasses on a red Croakie string and a brand new item: a T-shirt that says “Put Down The Corn Cob!”
    See? I told you I’m famous.
    “Officers! Awesome work last night!” He gives Ceepak a finger pistol. “Picked up one of yours, too!”
    “Pardon?” says Ceepak.
    “Your shirt. The one that says ‘Give Me The Fool’s Gear!’”
    Geeze-o, man.
    “Hey, how come nobody told me last night’s show was going to be all about the SHPD and that awesome chase scene?”
    Yeah. In case you missed the episode, Ceepak, Skeletor, the motorcycles, and me got almost as much airtime as the food fight and celebrity guest judges. And, if you care, which I don’t anymore, Nicole Stanziale got the boot at the end of the show. The “Fun House” ten is down to five.
    “But hey,” the mayor continues, “I talked to Chief Baines first thing this morning. Guess you guys didn’t know you were about to become movie stars either, huh?”
    “No, sir,” says Ceepak, that popping jawbone joint about to shoot sideways out of his skull. “We did not.”
    The mayor scampers down the short set of steel steps. Gives Ceepak a hearty handshake.
    “We’re booked up for the season!”
    “What?” I say, because Ceepak is too busy trying to shake free from the mayor’s smarmy grip.
    “Every hotel, motel, guest house, and B&B on the island is completely sold out. Reservations came pouring in over the Internet last night and early this morning. Morgan’s? You can’t eat dinner there until sometime in early December. Everybody wants to try their crab pie and see that lobster tank the drunk girl tried to smash with her hammer. So, you guys catch that psycho stalker yet?”
    “He is a not a stalker, sir,” says Ceepak. “He is a drug dealer.”
    The mayor crinkles his nose. “Nah. I like the stalker angle better. But hey, talk to Marty.” He thumb-gestures over his shoulder. “Maybe he’ll go with your idea. Well, I gotta run. TMZ wants to do a satellite interview!”
    He bops into his BMW. Ceepak and I storm up the staircase, shove open the trailer door.
    We see Marty Mandrake, Rutger the director, Grace the stopwatch lady, and Layla. The TV team is huddled around a table loaded down with trays of doughnuts—the kind they probably have to fly in from a gourmet bakery in Brooklyn.
    “Ladies and gentlemen, we are now the top-rated show on television!” says Mandrake proudly.
    “Excuse me,” says Ceepak as we impolitely barge in.
    The production team looks up. Some are in mid-doughnut