She asked for Detective Acme, while I saw only legs, probably because my Fedora was real low, as I like to look mysterious because I'm a detective, which is now obvious. Plus, I beat up people for cash.
She carried a broom, which probably wouldn't kill, but the bristles would be annoying, particularly because they were made of stiff hay. I tried lighting a match on my 5 o'clock, but I'm a detective, not a cowboy. So I used my pink Bic.
She was new in town, in trouble: Jerry. He was outside, somewhere. She flashed almighty dollars, so I went outside to take care of business. A Chapparal cock sped by. And there: Jerry. A mouse with a short man complex. He saw us, we him. The broad screamed, as did an elephant carrying money sacks marked with dollar signs. It ran, but slipped on a banana peel and took me out. Detective, elephant: done. Peanut vendor: displeased.
Budgies or plump boobies -- I hope they were those ones -- flew equidistantly-spaced around my head. My black eye needed a ribeye.
Money bags spilled. Now, Jerry's eyes had dollar signs, not literally because that would indicate ocular dysfunction, but metaphorically, like how Dumbo was actually tripping when he saw pink elephants, but they can't say that in Disney films. Jerry: dazzled by loot --" he wouldn't be bothering anyone just yet. The broad was up a tree, scared of hurting herself coming down.
"Use the umbrella," I said. She floated down while three flautists and a harpist played a descending glissando thing. It was pleasant.
"Stay put," I said. "Everyone's a character here," I said. "Animated clichés. You, me, everyone. Learn the patterns, you'll be alright." With the broad safe, I turned to Jerry, dynamite and concertina boxing glove ready.