Live! from Las Vegas

"And Stan Knox is out and about today at Williams' Cafe," Jay added, pressing a button that connected to Stan's radio equipment. "What's up, Stan?"

"Hi, Jay," Stanley greeted the other deejay, glancing about the cafe. "Things are going great here. There's take-out meals for $1.99, karaoke. . . Everyone's having a lot of fun! If you're out near us, drop in!" he said to the listeners. "This is Stan Knox, broadcasting live from Williams' Cafe, at 1655 South and Main."

He was at his home in nearby Henderson when the telephone rang. Kelsey answered. "Hello, Thompson's," she said.

"Hey, Kelsey," Stanley's voice replied. "Is your dad there?"

"Yup," the little girl said, then turned to Marty. "Daddy, it's for you."

"Thank you, Kelsey." Marty took the receiver. "Hello?"

"Marty, something kinda strange is happening here at the cafe," Stanley stated.

"Really? What's happening, Stan?" Marty asked.

"Well, you know how there's karaoke," Stanley began. "Well, a giant piece of toast, looking strangely like the Toastinator, has gotten onstage singing ‘Silence is Golden'!"

Marty was appalled. "A giant piece of toast?" he repeated, wondering if Stanley had lost his marbles.

"Yeah! Of course it'd have to be someone dressed in a costume," Stanley added hurriedly, "but it's still really weird. I think this guy's trying to get a message across that we're not supposed to blab."

"Not that again!" Marty groaned. It wasn't the first time the Toastinator had sent them a message to keep quiet . . . but about what? No one could figure it out.

"'Fraid so," Stanley said.

"When did this, uh, piece of toast come in?" Marty asked.

Stanley checked the clock. "About five minutes ago," he replied.

"Do you think it'll cause a disturbance?"

Stanley sighed. "I hope not. That's all we need!"

There was a long pause. Finally Marty asked, "Stan, are you still there?" He could hear a voice attempting to imitate Frankie Valli's falsetto singing the chorus of "Silence is Golden."

"Yeah, I'm still here, Marty," Stanley replied. "I just noticed a stalk of corn coming in!"

Marty started to laugh. "A stalk of corn?" he repeated incredulously.

"Yeah. It's taking a booth on the other side of the cafe, and it keeps staring over at me!"

Marty glanced at the clock. "It's almost noon," he announced. "I'll head on over there now, Stan." As they said goodbye and hung up, Marty said to himself, "I've gotta see these weird things for myself!"

"Hey, Stan," Marty greeted him.

"Hi," Stan replied. "The piece of toast is over talking to the corn." He gestured toward the east end of the cafe.

Marty glanced over at the gigantic articles of food and did a doubletake. "Wow," he said. "What does the manager think of them?"

Stan shrugged. "He doesn't mind if they come in masquerade, just as long as they don't create a disturbance."

"Too weird," Marty stated. He noticed Stanley was staring ahead at something, probably on the stage. "What's wrong with you?" he asked.

"Look at that!" Stanley exclaimed. "There's a giant English muffin and a bagel making their way to the stage!"

Marty turned to look. Stanley was right. The English muffin had on a bow tie and a mask, and the bagel sported a bow. They went into a duet of "You Talk Too Much."

"Another warning," Stanley said dryly.

"As Vince would say, ‘Ridiculous!'" Marty declared.

The boy walked right up to the booth and greeted the deejays with a cheery, "Hi, Marty! Hi, Stanley!"

"Hey, Tim," they both replied.

"This is my godmother," Tim said, indicating the pole lamp. "I think you guys met her once before." Marty and Stanley looked at each other, remembering that ridiculous day when Tim's godmother had gone to the antique show at the Stratosphere a few weeks ago.

"Uh, yeah," Stanley said, "I believe we did meet her."

"Guess what!" Tim said enthusiastically. "My Live from Las Vegas fan club now has chapters in every place that has an affiliate, and even in some other places, too, where the fans listen online!"

"That's wonderful," Marty said. It was amazing that just such a young boy as Tim would have such an interest in oldies, and have even started a fan club for the show. He tried to ignore the warning that was being sent out to "keep quiet" as the English muffin and the bagel harmonized on the last verse of "You Talk Too Much."

"Hey, Marty," Stanley said in a low voice, "the stalk of corn has moved over to the table next to our booth."

"Huh??" Marty stared at the nearby table, where, sure enough, the giant stalk of corn sat.

Tim giggled. "You guys' shows are so cool, that they've even nourished the plants," he decided. "Your shows made them grow tall and strong!"

Marty and Stanley suppressed grins at that thought.

At that minute, Jay and Dan checked in with them again, through the two-way radio. Marty pressed the button to reply and said, "Hey, guys! Things are going great here! It's a real blast!" He described most of what had been going on, excluding all mention of warnings and Toastinators.

Just then, Stanley exclaimed, "Hey, Marty, that stalk of corn is sending us a note on a paper airplane!"

Marty looked up, startled, just as the paper airplane soared over to the booth and glided to a slick stop just in front of the two-way radio. Marty opened it and read, "‘Silence is golden. If you blab, you'll be sorry.'" He set the paper back on the booth in disgust. "What in the world are we not supposed to blab?"

"Did you guys witness a crime or somethin'?" Tim asked. "Not that we know of," Marty replied.

"Send them a message back," Stanley urged. "Ask them what we're not supposed to blab."

"I doubt that it'll work, but okay." Marty quickly wrote the question on the wing of the airplane and sent it back to the corn, who read the message, glared at it, scribbled another message, and sent it back.

"Wow, that corn is great at throwing paper airplanes," Tim commented.

The airplane flew right at Stanley, so he grabbed it. Underneath Marty's message, the corn had written, "Don't be cute. You know what you're not supposed to tell!"

Stanley rolled his eyes and handed the airplane to Marty. "Big help this is," he said.

Marty read it. "Crazy," was all he said, glancing over at the corn.

"What's it say?" Tim asked.

"It doesn't have any answers," Marty replied.

"Hope you get some soon," Tim said.

"Me too," Stanley muttered.

"Very," Marty agreed.

"Nonsense!" Vince declared, entering the broadcast booth.

"You're right there, Vince," Stanley said. "What in the world are we not supposed to blab? That's what I'd like to know."

"Maybe it's some kind of identity crisis," Marty suggested. "They might've gotten us mixed up with someone else."

"Maybe," Dan said.

Vince went back into his office. A loud yell rocked the Stratosphere. "AUGH!!!"

The four deejays all looked at each other and dashed into the engineer's office. "Vince! What's wrong?" Jay asked.

"This!!" Vince shrieked, holding up a bagel sporting a bow.

Jay took it and looked it over. A tag hanging from it read, "The Toastinator's Girlfriend."

Marty turned to Stanley. "Doesn't that thing look familiar?"

Stanley nodded. "Strangely, yes. It does."

"A life-sized bagel got up onstage and sang a duet with an English muffin," Marty said to Vince, who was looking at them strangely.

"Ridiculous!" Vince yelled.

"It was pretty weird," Marty agreed.

Consuelo entered then to clean Vince's office, and the deejays went back to the broadcast booth, wondering what in the world would happen next and if they'd ever discover what it was they weren't supposed to blab . . .