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We Would've Gotten Away With It, Too...

You and the Webmonkeys jump into the Mystery Machine. Techno music pumps as Meghan turns the ignition. The interior of the Machine is just like you imagined: flashing Christmas lights lining the ceiling, nasty orange shag on the floor.

As she revs up the van's ferocious motor, Meghan hollers: "Webmonkeys, take your positions!"

Like a group of battle-hardened assassins, the Monkeys prepare for attack. You've never seen such a well-oiled machine. Shvatz gets behind the turntables as Taylor and Nadav man the PlayStation. Josh and Jay punch buttons on the eight-track player. Luke stocks the wet bar. JoAnne and Nate kick it in the rear lounge area. "We're backup," they say.

As you scan the intense, passionate faces of the Webmonkeys, it occurs to you that you've been betrayed. How did BiancaTroll know you'd be running out of the Wired Digital building right when you did? One of the Monkeys must have set you up and led you right into the arms of Dr. Neck. Maybe you should've taken that taxicab after all.

So who's the traitor? Using your trusty mousehand, you set out to read each of the Webmonkeys' minds.

You edge up next to Luke, who's in the middle of an extended rant. You take advantage of his distraction to touch him with your mousehand. A flood of thoughts, emotions, feelings, and random junk go through your mind with lightning speed.

Cable modems!

Star Wars!

Fools! Morons! What are they doing?

Gimme a drink, damnit!

You begin to pull your hand away, knowing that one more burst may push you over the edge. But it's too late ... one last thought has slipped through:

I'm gonna bend ya over a barrel and not even give ya a kiss.

The horror ... the horror. Well, it's not him, you say to yourself. What about Josh? He looks suspicious. I better see what's tickin' in his dome. As you position yourself behind the navigational console, you touch your mousehand to the back of Josh's head. Dis frickin' choose-ya-own-adventure! Who da hell volunteered me t' put all dis crap togetha' anyway?

Sounds like he's too wound up in his own personal hell to organize something with Dr. Neck. How's about Jay? You touch him with your mighty mouse: Oh, da Laker's be S-Tripa-Dubba-O badass! I wish da damn Knicks didn't suck so's way baaad! Waaaaahhh!

NBA strike must be getting to Jay, you say to yourself. Maybe JoAnne? you think as you reach over to touch her with your mouse. *$#@ing old-ass computer! her mind says. Where's my new computer?!

Sheesh. Perhaps Nadav will know what's up. You double-click on him: I duzn't know if I've said dis yet today, but our mailserva' sucks!

Damn, you think. These Webmonkeys sure do have some funky funk! Maybe Meghan will be helpful. You reach over to touch your mouse to her leg. Just then, Taylor bellows: "Hey! Get your dirty wandering hands away from my sister!"

Aha! you think to yourself. He's hiding something. Meghan and Taylor must be in cahoots! I've got to read their minds!

You wait until Taylor is consumed by fierce PlayStation action before touching your mouse to Meghan again. We need t' jet down an' git dis $#!* ova' wit'. I ain't even touched my Perl homework yet.

Hmm, no clues there. The secret must lie within Taylor's melon. As Taylor engages Nadav in a fierce game of Tekken, you reach over and touch your mouse to his back. Low kick, block, high punch, high punch, high kick, block, block, low kick.

Nate? You reach over to touch the mouse to his foot: E = MC².

After going through the minds of the Webmonkeys, it has become clear that they are all legit. Too legit to quit. You sit back in consternation, wondering what to do next. You glance out the window and notice a hitchhiker standing on the side of the road.

"Hey!" Meghan yells. "Isn't that Jeff Brady?" She slams on the brakes and pulls the Mystery Machine over.

"Ko - ni - chi - wa?" you hear as the side door slides open and Jeff steps inside. "How b da' moan - kay tou - dae?"

Everyone looks puzzled.

"Wheee b rhode trippp -in' wit da moan keeeeeee," he continues.

Shvatz scratches his head and stares at his shoes. The rest of Monkeys are similarly silent. Nadav tries to make an effort to reach out. He speaks to Jeff the way one would to a hearing-impaired 4-year-old: "Helllllloooooo. Doooo yoouuuu neeeed helllp?"

In reply, Jeff's smile broadens. "I'z got sum - ting imp - ort - ant 2 sey 2 de munk - eeeeeeee."

Frustrated, Taylor snaps, "What's with this loon?"

Jeff's smile disappears. He turns to Taylor and barks, "I have no intention of taking this kind of crap from Mr. Orangina here. Got it?"

"Chill, man," Nate says.

"You chill yourself there. I've had it with the lot of you, sitting back there in your quad, listening to your music, writing whatever the hell you like. Tell me, what does this little roadtrip of yours have to do with our business plan?"

Nadav was now whistling and looking at the ceiling.

"Somebody's got to pay your salary, bring in the cash. Guess who that is? Josh, is it you? Nope. How about Meghan? Doesn't look that way. No, kids, that's me. Unless you want to find a job where you're actually going to do something, I suggest you stop complaining. Now, am I free to talk the way I choose? Hmmmm?"

Humbled, the group cannot manage a response.

"Fine then." He exhales, finds his smile, and continues. "Izzzzz ghot sum - ting 2 zay 2 dis mhon - kie."

Josh turns to you and says, "Mousehanded freak, can you read his thoughts and translate?"

You say you'll give it a shot, then touch Jeff's hand. As you flip through his files, you discover the source code for his speech. You say, "He said, 'I've got something to say to the Monkeys.'"

Jeff goes on: "U haz 2 mak an im - poart - nt day - ceeez - e - oan."

You translate, "You need to make an important decision."

Jeff: "1 OOO - deez choy -sez leedz 2 diz - ass - tier. De oat - er leidz 2 gud - ness."

This is getting tough. But you manage. "One choice leads to disaster, the other to joy."

"What choice is he talking about?" JoAnne asks. "We're just road-tripping."

Then, from the driver's seat, Meghan says, "Hey, there's a fork in the road. We need to choose, left or right."

Jeff gets up and steps out of the van. "An - sir dis rid - el & aul b good."

You say, "He has a riddle. If we answer correctly, we'll know which way to go. Then we'll be safe."

Everyone listens intently. Jeff steps back into the street, and there is no way your mousehand can maintain contact.

He then says, "Hen en are - teeeek tourrrrn ph - el - ayes tough ot - her gr - h - nd eeee stiz hwithway."

The door then closes. You and the rest of the Monkeys are clueless. Nadav, ever the manager, says, "Now let's just sit here and break this down. No need to hurry. We can figure it out."

Jay says, "Hey, I see a friendly policeman coming. We should just ask him. He'll know."

"Umm," mumbles Nate. "I don't think we should do that."

"Why?" Nadav asks. "We're not breaking any ... Oh, for God's sake."

"OK, Mousehand," Taylor says. "You decide. Left or right. And don't screw up."

Do you: