This story is not intended to violate any copyrights held by Renaissance Pictures, StudioUSA or any other entity involved with the making of "Jack of All Trades".
"I can't beleive it," Emilia said from her secret lab as she surveyed the poster with the Dragoon's picture on it. The poster was nailed to a large tree in the village square. "The citizens of Pulau Pulau have nominated the Daring Dragoon as sexiest man on the island."
"You're kidding," Jacks said as he got up from his makeshift bed and grabbed the poster from her hands. "Well, I'm a shoe in to win. Why look at who they have as contestants." He pointed to each one. "Brogard...and Croque..." He surveyed the poster once more, "Hey! What's that Raging Bully, Napoleon doing on here? Why he doesn't even live on Pulau Pulau."
"Politics, Jack. I'm sure Napoleon is expecting to win."
"Well, that's not fair. The Floundering Fathers of this dung heap of an island finally get something right and you tell me the contest is rigged? Jack nudged Emilia. "Hey, maybe the Dragoon can do some public relations appearances this week to bolster a few votes," he offered.
"And maybe I can be Croque for a day." Emilia mocked. "You shouldn't be using the Daring Dragoon as your personal dating service.
"Well, you know what they say about me, Em. 'Once you go Jack, you never go back." Jack smiled.
"Really Jack! You don't expect me to believe you are that popular with the locals do you?"
"Hey, sister! I have you know there isn't a dead woman walking, that wouldn't want Jack in the sack." He pointed to Emilia in indignation and then wanted to take back his words, "That didn't sound exactly the way it was supposed to," he mused.
Emilia rolled her eyes, "I hardly think I'm interested in your sex and the single spy exploits. Besides you're supposed to be the People's Dragoon not some sex object.
"Yeah. Yeah. Yeah." Jack protested. "And the local yokels love me, but I was hoping the return of the Dragoon would bring me more perks than just fighting the bad guys."
Emilia shook her head. "You would think that by now I would remember how self absorbed you are. In fact, I'd be rather surprised if you ever settled down and got married."
Jack laughed. "Should that day come, you can bet the invitation to the nuptials would read 'One wedding and an execution', 'cause I'm gonna kill myself."
"That would make it a one wedding and a suicide then," Emilia corrected him.
Jack decided to turn the tables on his headstrong partner. "Hey Em? Do you think you'll ever get married again? That's assuming anyone could pass the daddy dearest test."
"Excuse me, Mr. Stiles! To spite my father's puritanical ways, he would never presume to tell me who I could or could not marry."
"Sure," Jack nodded in mock agreement, "You forget I've worked with Ruppy Boy. Don't tell me a few of your male suitors haven't found themselves up a creek without either a paddle or an anchor. Why I remember a time when Rupert and I...."
"That's quite enough, Jack. Now if you don't mind, I could use your help with an experiment..."
"Sure," Jack said as he approached Emilia. "Just as long as it's nothing like the last experiment you tried on me."
"Which one would that be, Mr. Stiles?" Emilia said feigning ignorance. Her last experiment, although successful, put them both in some rather uncomfortable and compromising situations.
"You know... that love potion #10, #69, #666 or whatever number you gave it."
"No, no, no, Jack. It's nothing like that." She pushed him toward the laboratory island. "Just put your hand on this pressure sensitive pad here."
"The one that says, 'X marquis the spot'. He joked as he put his hand down on the thick, ivory fabric and then quickly jerked it away. "It won't hurt will it?" he asked.
"Not at all. I promise. You won't feel a thing."
"Yeah. That's what they all the say before they rip your heart out. What's the experiment?" Jack asked.
"Oh, by the way Jack..." Emilia said as she began fiddling with some cords leading from the touch pad, "were you with Elizabeth Pruitt yesterday?"
Elizabeth Pruitt was the local bar wench that Jack had obviously taken a fancy to. Emilia had sent him to her export business to pick up a package, but he returned hours later without it.
"Um...no. Why do you ask?" Jack stammered.
Within a second, a small bell attached to a lead rang once.
"Thank you, Jack. The experiment is done."
"But how? I didn't do anything." Jack asked perplexed.
"Oh, yes you did. You lied," Emilia said as she sighed, "You see Mr. Stiles, when you lie, you perspire. The touch pad senses the moisture in your skin and sends a signal through this lead causing the bell to ring." She drew a line with her finger to the various components of the experiment. "By recording the changes to your perspiration, I have invented a rather crude but effective lie detector."
"Oh, that is so not fair," he protested.
"So, where were you yesterday when you were supposed to be picking up my package?"
"To tell you the truth, it's a mad, mad, opera kinda thing. You see, Jean Claude got his feathers all in a ruffle when he broke up with a cute little chickadee..."
The End
