Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine. Vol. 105, Nos. 3 & 4. Whole Nos. 640 & 641, March 1995

Flipping her long blond hair away from her right eye, Dr. Thorney pronounced us certifiable. “A deep psychosis is at work here. Obviously all three have multiple personalities that manifest themselves in each other. Obviously, Billy is really Sally Sue and Ruth Anne. Clearly, Sally Sue is really Billy and Ruth Anne. Definitely, Ruth Anne is really Billy and Sally Sue.”

Before Dr. Thorney could continue, Zazu jumped in and thanked her drily for “acquainting us with the disorder of the week.” Dr. Thorney pulled her feet up under her and curled up into a tight little ball.

“So let the game begin,” said Zazu as two stagehands carried out the portable bowling lane.

Sally Sue and I bowled four strikes in a row. We were having such a good time that I forgot about the plan until Billy’s antics made me remember it. As Sally Sue and I were talcing our fingers for the fifth frame, Billy, jealous of the audience’s attention to us, sprinted in front of the lane.

“Hey, you environmentally correct audience, let me tell you about my outfit. The suit’s been recycled from potato sacks, the shoes from fast-food orders, and...”

“Sit down, Billy,” hollered a sweet-looking young woman. “I’m getting a bowling lesson watching Sally Sue and Ruth Anne.”

To win her over, Billy grinned and tugged at his cowlick, his trademark “aw shucks” gesture that shot Bruno from the Bronx right out of his seat. Bruno was wearing an “I’m a sensitive, caring assassin” look and was panting for action, but it was too soon. Sally Sue signaled him to wait. She wanted the plan to go into effect when everyone was absorbed in the show. Billy soon obliged us by performing a real attention-grabber.

“Miss, I appreciate your wanting to take a bowling lesson,” Billy said sweetly, “but how about you taking a recycling lesson from me? How about I show you my recycled skivvies, made out of plastic shopping bags from the Outrageous Undies shop?”

The audience whistled and cheered. The young woman yelled, “Sit down, Sally Sue and Ruth Anne. We want Billy.”

To the chant of “We want Billy,” the monster began to undress, doing a crude version of a striptease and handing discarded pieces of clothing to Yvette, who had come onto the set. At precisely the moment when Billy started to unbuckle his belt, Sally Sue nodded at Bruno from the Bronx. Shots rang out, the set went dark, the audience stampeded up the aisles, Yvette screamed, Zazu gasped, Sally Sue laughed, and I giggled. Oh, that Billy! We were free of him at last.

When the backup lights went on, Yvette became completely unflounced. Weakly, she pointed to Billy’s chair.

“He’s gone,” she sobbed. “Someone shot out the lights so he could kidnap Billy in the dark.”

“But hark, there’s a note pinned to Billy’s chair,” said Sally Sue, a bit dramatically, I thought.

“Let’s not overdo it, Sally Sue,” I cautioned. “No more harking. Let someone else read the note.”

“Okay.” She grinned.

It was only right that Zazu should read the note (composed by Sally Sue); after all, it was her show until Billy took over. In solemn tones she read:

On behalf of all the sensitive, caring, nineties men, I, Bruno from the Bronx, leader of legions of men like myself, have kidnapped Billy the Oaf, who is a Neanderthalian affront to womanhood and manhood. Although a tribunal of sensitive, caring, nineties men has pronounced Billy beyond redemption, we will release him tomorrow after he agrees never to appear on any talk shows, magazine covers, or videos. If the oaf breaks the agreement, he will be shot on sight by any duly authorized sensitive, caring, nineties man, of which there are legions. There is a price of one million dollars on Billy’s head if he ever shows that head in the media again.

Bruno from the Bronx

A sensitive, caring New York cabdriver who recognized Billy from a newspaper photo picked him up the next morning on 38th Street and drove him to the TV studio to reclaim his clothes. On the way, Billy spotted Yvette entering an unemployment office. Shirtless and shivering, he jumped out of the cab and caught up with her.

“Hon, hon,” he panted, “I’m back from my terrible ordeal. We can be together again.”