For a minute, nobody moved.  Then, slowly, Dad sat up.  Whereupon, Brooke Rivera opened to scream!

  "No-no-no!" shouted Dad, barely managing to cut her off:  "Please! No screaming. I can explain."

  Brooke gasped:  "You can talk?!"

  Dad nodded.  Whereupon, Jumana strode forward and picked him up by the collar of his red cover-alls.  His whole body dangling from her right hand like a side of beef on a meat hook!

  "Then, make with the explanations.  Or I'll call in my guards.  And I've a feeling you don't want that!"

  My dad nodded, again.  But, thinking fast, even as he did so.

  "My name is Buck Fogarty.  And I used to be a foreign correspondent.  But, six years ago, I stumbled across this KGB spy ring, in Saigon, that was doing some kind of biochemical research.  And this is what happened when I spilled some of those chemicals on me!  The good news is that the CIA arrived in the nick of time, with Saigon's Finest, and shut down the spy ring.   The bad news is that I've been stuck at this size ever since.  So, in exchange for faking my death, they give me a place to stay and someone to serve as my bodyguard while I help them with certain special missions."

  Brooke and Jumana looked at each other, before looking back at my dad.

  "And is your latest mission to watch a pair of undergrad co-eds undress for bed?"

  Dad shook his head:  "My partner and I were merely assigned to make sure nothing happened to you prior to your folks' arrival.  When you moved here, to the hotel, I stowed away inside one of your cowgirl boots to make sure I stayed within eyesight of you."

  "I believe him," said Brooke.

  Jumana must have looked at her roommate with disbelief, because Brooke instantly elaborated.

  "Well, look at him!  Can you think of anything else that would explain his condition?  Unless, of course, Najranis believe in genies."

  "Oh, please.  He came out of my boot!  Not a brass oil lamp."

  "Then, why not give him the benefit of the doubt?"

  Jumana looked back down at my dad.

  "I will. . .on one condition.  That he contacts his partner to come here and vouch for him.  In person!"

  Dad sheepishly grinned:  "I don't suppose it would do any good to say that my partner's identity is classified?"

  Jumana shook her head:  "Either contact him or I call the guards."

  Dad shrugged in half-pretended defeat.

  "Fine!  My walkie-talkie is still in your boot.  Could your friend get it for me?"

  Brooke did as requested and reached back inside the boot.  Giggling at its size as she retrieved it.

  "It's like a speck of dirt on my finger tip."

  She then carefully handed the "shrinkie-talkie" to Dad.

  "Five Points Buck to Boss Man.  Five Points Buck to Boss Man.  Do you copy?  Over."

  "Copy you, Five Points Buck.  What's up?  Over."

  "There's been an unexpected development with regard to HRH.  Over."

  "What do you mean, 'unexpected?'  Over."

   Dad explained...and Myron Meriwether groaned.  Which was not unexpected!   But, to his credit, Meriwether managed to calm down almost immediately.  Whereupon, he sighed and replied:

  "Fine!  I'll be up in five minutes.  Just have HRH notify her bodyguards to that effect.  Otherwise, they'll be another arrest for disturbing the peace.  Boss Man; over and out."

  Dad then looked up at Jumana:  "You heard him, Your Highness.  The rest is up to you."

 "Fine!  I'll go phone Captain Hassan.  Here, Brooke.  You found him; you hold on to him.  Real tight!"

 Brooke did as instructed.  Keeping my dad firmly (though not uncomfortably) immobilized with both hands.  The two of them looked at each other for a few moments.  Then, Dad broke the awkward silence with one of his trademark wisecracks.

 "So!  What do you think the Texas Rangers' chances are of becoming World Series champs, this year?"

  tbc