Hello, everyone. You know me by now as Yugo Yamamoto, mild-mannered, handsome boy.
But when trouble calls and danger dials (I screen my calls), I jump to answer the phone as Zach Magnum, P.I.
One day, I received reports from my eyes on the street, Guri and Gura. After telling me a long story about their latest picnic and the time they found a giant egg, they mentioned some strange rituals being carried out by the animals in a nearby farm. Since no one else understands Guri and Gura, I went to investigate.
Sure enough, the barnyard animals had constructed a gate, a portal sheathed in cowhide, with spooky talismans hanging down from the arch. I could see what looked like swine and bovine heads dangling over a prone form. Was I too late? No, as usual, I arrived just in time. Someone was planning a stuffed animal sacrifice and had placed a drugged Elmo under the summoning portal. In a brief moment of consciousness before slipping back under to his fever dreams, Elmo sqeaked, "Ehh, meh daaanaaaa." "What?" I asked severely. "He had a cow." "Who, Elmo, who?" "With a moo moo here and a moo moo there." "Elmo, you're not making sense. Speak to me!"
"Everywhere a moo moo...." His voice trailed into drooling silence.
After putting Elmo on a fast train to sobertown, I pondered his cryptic words. They had a familiar ring. But I could not put my finger on it. "Everywhere a moo moo. Hmmm." There was only one thing I could do. Go to the desert.
My trusty guide and informant, Ali Matto, who does not fear the sun, told me all he knew of this "moo moo" as I meditated in the desert cabana. "There is a man, a man who has been gone a long time. He has many animals. Each animal makes a sound. The sounds are here, there and everywhere. It can drive a weak man mad. Now I must go; my enemies approach and my tan is almost ready. To learn his name, follow the music."
So I had come full circle. To follow the music, I decided to infiltrate the New York Philharmonic, cleverly disguised as a cello. There I learned the painful truth. There was a man who had a farm. His name was Old MacDonald. Ee-eye ee-eye oh. Another case closed by yours truly.
Sure enough, the barnyard animals had constructed a gate, a portal sheathed in cowhide, with spooky talismans hanging down from the arch. I could see what looked like swine and bovine heads dangling over a prone form. Was I too late? No, as usual, I arrived just in time. Someone was planning a stuffed animal sacrifice and had placed a drugged Elmo under the summoning portal. In a brief moment of consciousness before slipping back under to his fever dreams, Elmo sqeaked, "Ehh, meh daaanaaaa." "What?" I asked severely. "He had a cow." "Who, Elmo, who?" "With a moo moo here and a moo moo there." "Elmo, you're not making sense. Speak to me!"
My trusty guide and informant, Ali Matto, who does not fear the sun, told me all he knew of this "moo moo" as I meditated in the desert cabana. "There is a man, a man who has been gone a long time. He has many animals. Each animal makes a sound. The sounds are here, there and everywhere. It can drive a weak man mad. Now I must go; my enemies approach and my tan is almost ready. To learn his name, follow the music."
So I had come full circle. To follow the music, I decided to infiltrate the New York Philharmonic, cleverly disguised as a cello. There I learned the painful truth. There was a man who had a farm. His name was Old MacDonald. Ee-eye ee-eye oh. Another case closed by yours truly.
