Dressed to the nines (or maybe twos), the Stooges arrived at the Ink and Paint Club, crowded in the back of a taxicab the entire trip. The entrance was in a discreet location. Whereas most clubs advertised their businesses with bright neon signs and even a red carpet, this particular club's entrance was a basic steel door of a nondescript building in a rundown factory area.
Moe, Larry, and Curly each knocked a few times on the door.
A speakeasy-style peephole slid open, revealing the face of a toon gorilla, leering on the Stooges.
"Evenin', fella," Moe greeted. "We're here by invitation."
"Password," the gorilla grunted.
Larry frowned. "Password? Nobody said nuttin' 'bout a password!"
"Quiet, cotton head! Lemme handle this!" Moe ordered. He then returned on the waiting gorilla and said, "There must be some mistake, buddy. We have an invitation." He took the letter out of his pocket and presented it to the gorilla. "Ya see?"
"Nobody gets in, unless they say the password," the gorilla established.
Curly briskly stepped in, shoving Moe aside. "Stand back! I'll take care of this!" He looked directly at the gorilla and (poorly) recited the phrase, "Open Says Me!"
SLAM! The peephole slid shut, but the door didn't open.
Moe furiously forced Curly to face him. "Open Says Me," he mocked before poking Curly's eyes. Determined to get in, Moe knocked again with more ferocity.
The gorilla responded in the same manner. "Who do you think you are? Mickey Mouse? If you don't know the password, you ain't comin' in. So, amscray!"
"We want in, King Kong!" Moe yelled. "If ya really want us to leave, then go right ahead and make us!" Accepting his challenge, the peephole slid open again and the gorilla's massive, hairy fist punched through it. However, rather than striking Moe in the face, it flew over his head entirely and struck Curly instead, retracting back into the peephole afterwards. Surprised and offended, Moe again challenged, "Lemme see you try that again, if you really meant it!"
And, again, the gorilla's fist flew through the peephole and struck Curly's face.
"For Pete's sake, he means it!" Curly griped to Moe.
As the peephole slid closed once more on the Stooges, they heard a man laughing from behind. They spun to see a guy in a shiny brown suit, a beige trench coat, and a beat-up fedora.
Eddie Valiant.
He was accompanied by tall, attractive brunette in a blue floral evening gown.
"You jokers don't know the password, eh?" Eddie teased the Stooges.
"Cut 'em a break, Eddie," Valiant's date reproached. "It's their first time." She specifically asked Curly, "Are you alright, hon?"
Curly was initially surprised such a beautiful woman was concerned for his well-being. Once he was able to get over the shock, he replied, "Oh, tut-tut, lady. That was nuttin'." He turned to Moe and invitingly knelt to where his shaven scalp pointed at him. "Here, gimme one on the head."
"Gladly," Moe accepted the free shot, bonking his fist on Curly's head.
Curly seemed shockingly unfazed by the blow. "See, lady? I just—Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow!" No less than a nanosecond later did he yelp in pain, clutching the spot where Moe hit him.
Eddie shook his head in annoyance. "C'mon, Dolores," he told his date. "We'll be late for our reservation."
"Eddie, we can't just leave these boys out here," Dolores said, pitying the Stooges.
"Sure, we can," Valiant disputed. "Dolores, these buffoons are more destructive than your average toon!"
Dolores judgingly rested one hand on her hip and reminded Eddie, "You once said the same thing about a certain rabbit."
"That's different," Eddie contended. "Roger's an actual toon. It's his nature."
In spite of making such a reasonable counterargument, Dolores didn't let up on the hypercritical attitude she gave him. With no other choice, he approached the door and knocked. The peephole slid open and the gorilla looked on Eddie with more welcoming (albeit still menacing) eyes. "Mister Valiant!" he beamed. "How ya doin'?"
"As good as can be, Bongo." Eddie then stated the password, "Walt sent me."
On that, Bongo the bouncer opened the door.
Dolores looked to the Stooges, smiling as she nodded towards the opened entrance. "C'mon, fellas."
Overwhelmed by the kind gesture, the Stooges happily followed Eddie and Dolores in. They tried not to make eye contact with the seven-foot, tuxedo-wearing toon gorilla that violently attacked Curly, no less than a few minutes ago. Valiant and his date were the only reason he didn't lay another finger on them, as they waltzed in.
Moe, Larry, and Curly could hear the laughter and music coming from the main room just ahead of them. Stepping through the doorway, they were engulfed by the white glow emitted from the swanky nightclub, on a par with the El Morrocco or the Garden of Allah. Behind the bar, a caterpillar bartender used his many arms to shake and pour several drinks at once. Meanwhile, a dozen penguin waiters were gliding back and forth along the tables, serving drinks to the well-heeled crowd.
One waiter waddled past Curly with a tray carrying a single glass of champagne.
Curly, licking his lips with eagerness, attempted to snatch the glass but was thwarted by Moe. "Don't even think about it," he scolded him. "We ain't havin' another episode like last Fourth of July. Yer stayin' dry the whole night."
"Mmmm!" Curly let out an under-the-breath, high-pitched groan of frustration.
"Jumpin' jeepers! If it isn't the Three Stooges!" A hyperactive voice with a slight lisp addressed them. They were suddenly approached by famed toon actor Roger Rabbit. While Roger was still the usual slender, white rabbit with large blue eyes, a pink nose, and a tuft of red hair, he was donned in a spiffy tuxedo with white gloves and a black bowtie with white polka dots, as opposed to his signature red overalls, yellow gloves, and a blue bowtie with yellow polka dots.
"Oh, boy! Roger Rabbit!" cheered a starstruck Moe. "What a pleasure!"
"What an honor!" Larry cheered, equally starstruck.
"Whaddya know!" Curly cheered, also starstruck.
To the surprise of the Stooges, Roger was just as starstruck by them. "I can't begin to tell ya fellas how big of a fan I am! I'm so glad you made it to the club!"
"You're the one who sent us the letter," Moe deduced.
"It couldn't have been him," Larry denied. "The letter was signed by a kiss."
"Yeah, and red ain't his shade," Curly added.
Roger chuckled. "Nah, Jessica sent ya the letter. She'll explain it all to ya after my performance. In the meantime, make yourselves comfortable – grab a drink, have some delicious food, and enjoy the show!"
"You bet, Roger!" Moe accepted. "And thanks!" Shortly after Roger departed, Moe instructed his two cohorts, "You heard the man. Let's enjoy ourselves."
Summoning one of the waiters, Moe and Larry followed him to one of the available tables. Curly held back to finally get himself that glass of champagne Moe so rudely robbed him of. He spotted a whole tray of glasses carried by a waiter, snatching the entire tray as it passed his way. He was ready to take a gulp of the first glass until...
"YOU!" A French-accented voice bellowed his way.
Immediately, Curly put down the glass. "I wasn't gonna..." He started to defend himself, only to be interrupted by a large toon beagle in a tuxedo – the head waiter.
"Imbécile!" the French beagle scolded him. "Those are for the guests!"
"But I'm..." Curly tried to explain.
The beagle snatched the tray out of his hands, somehow managing not to spill a drop of champagne in the process. "Just because jou are new doesn't give jou special privileges! Just for dis display of manque de professionnalisme, I am restricting jou to ze kitchen for ze rest of ze night! Now aller!"
"But I..." Curly once more tried to explain.
"ALLER!" the beagle repeated with more severity, prompting the intimidated Curly to rush into the kitchen right away.
The kitchen of the Ink and Paint Club was virtually spotless, though – as Curly noticed upon entering – hardly any cooks were in the clean, spacious area. Regardless, he heard a New York-accented voice call to him, "Hey, youse!"
Curly didn't see anyone around. "Me?" He dimwittedly pointed to himself.
"Yer dah only mook here, ain't ya?"
Now Curly was getting spooked. "Nahhh! I'm talkin' to a ghost!!!"
"No, ya moron!" the voice derided. "Ovah 'ere!"
Curly followed where it had directed and found himself staring directly at a toon oven/stove combination. The animate object had dials for eyes and an oven door for a mouth that shot out flames when it spoke. Relieved that he wasn't talking to a ghost, Curly considerately approached the toon. "Ohhh, it's you!"
"Yeah, it's me," the toon jeered. "So, yer dah new guy, eh? Ya mind helpin' me prepare dah food? Dose idiot penguins are takin' out meals dat haven't even been cooked yet! I'm short-handed 'ere!"
"But ya ain't got any hands," Curly indicated.
"Oh, yer a real riot, buddy!" the toon snapped. "How 'bout ya leave dah jokes to dah performers and help me wit dis duck soup!" He proceeded to name off a list of ingredients to put into the pot of water that was already boiling on his "nose" (a.k.a. the stove). Curly, not an experienced chef (or a literate one, for that matter), was left to pluck random items off the shelves and cupboards, dumping them into the pot.
---------------------------
When Roger told the Stooges to make themselves comfortable, Moe and Larry took his offer to heart. For the past hour and a half, they had gorged on various appetizers, enough to cover an entire table, and drank glass-after-glass of scotch on the rocks. Larry was delighted to see how the beverages were served: "They put real rocks in your Scotch! This place is great!"
"I'll say it is," Moe concurred while crunching on his duck soup. "I just wish I knew what they put in this soup to make it so crunchy." In the middle of his meal, he suddenly realized Curly had been absent the entire dinner. "Hey, where's that chowder-brain been all night?"
Larry took notice himself of Curly's absence. "I thought he's been here the whole time."
"Well, he ain't!" Moe stormed. "Stop eatin' and go look for 'im!"
Grabbing one more appetizer beforehand, Larry left the table.
With all the appetizers to himself, Moe continued to enjoy his crunchy soup, still pondering on the circumstances of the crunchiness. The mystery was solved just as he scooped up a spoonful of household nails that were mixed in with the soup. "They really go for the exotic stuff in his joint!" he ruminated to himself.
"You must eat something, Charlie, dear." Moe overheard a woman say. It sounded very close behind him. He knew his name wasn't "Charlie," so clearly this woman wasn't talking to him – unless it was a case of mistaken identity. He half-turned to see who it was and spotted a dark-haired, middle-aged lady (possibly early-forties) with a done-up hairstyle and wearing a sparkling pink dress.
Sitting across from her was a balding gentleman her age with a bushy mustache and a tuxedo that he tried not to get any food on. Moe had seen this man's picture in the newspaper recently. His name was Charles Clarence, the lawyer who was appointed as the new judge of Toontown, in the wake of the corrupt Judge Doom's demise.
"I can't, Maggie," he told his wife. "I'm a nervous wreck! Tomorrow, I start the biggest job of my 10-year career!" He sulked over steak dinner that he barely touched. "Why couldn't Governor Weiss hire an actual toon judge for this job?"
"Because the last toon judge was a homicidal maniac, remember?" Maggie said.
Charles saw her point. "That'd explain why I had to give blood like it was the Red Cross – to prove that I am human."
Moe was engrossed in the Clarences' conversation, dimly popping different appetizers into his mouth. He got to one of the oysters and, failing to pop open the shell first, bit into the whole thing with an excruciating CRUNCH! Moe yelped from the pain, spitting out both the oyster and the tooth that it cracked from the back of his mouth.
"Why you...!" Moe yelled to the oyster, poking at it as if it had eyes to poke.
This proved to be Moe's undoing, as the live oyster retaliated by opening its shell and clamping down on Moe's index finger. Moe yelped much louder this time, drawing a few stares from the tables near him, including the Clarences'. They all watched as he fought with the oyster, knocking some of the other appetizers off the table in the process.
He finally was able to rid himself of the oyster, throwing it off his finger.
It flew ten feet across the room and right onto the backside of a young woman who shrieked from the fearsome pinch. Moe pretended not to notice what happened, getting back to his meal, ignoring the oysters. He was just as soon visited by a portly human waiter who was pushing a cart carrying the main course: roasted turkey. "Enjoyin' the meal, bud?" he asked with a distinct pitch to his voice that was rather high for a man of his girth.
"Not bad," Moe answered, "but the oysters are a little raw."
"Yeah, chef's short-handed, but he ain't got any hands! Nyuck-nyuck-nyuck!"
Moe did a doubletake from that familiar chortle. Looking up, he saw that the portly human waiter was Curly. "What're you doing?!"
"I'm waitin'," Curly said. "What does it look like?"
"What're you waitin' for?"
"Nuttin'. How 'bout you? Nyuck-nyuck-nyuck!"
Infuriated by his antics, Moe snatched Curly by the ear and forced him to sit down. Not a second later did Larry return and Moe, completely forgetting that he sent him to look for Curly, shouted to him, "And where have you been?!" Larry struggled to remind him, only to have his hair yanked by Moe, forcing him to sit also.
The Stooges regrouped just in time for Roger's wild onstage performance. To the tune of the Nutcracker Suite, he balanced himself on a large, rolling beach ball while juggling items that his irresistible wife, Jessica Rabbit, tossed from the left side of the stage – such as a bowling ball, bowling pins, chainsaws, bear traps, bombs, dynamite, and a kitchen sink. And yet, somehow, Roger was able to keep every single item in the air.
The audience enjoyed every moment, laughing uproariously.
Even Eddie Valiant, formerly the harshest of Roger's critics, cracked a smile.
The one who laughed the loudest was Charles Clarence. He laughed so hard that he coughed...and coughed some more. Suddenly, he began coughing violently, much to the concern of his wife, who handed him a napkin to cough into. She was shocked when she saw blood on the napkin. She screamed for help so loudly that her voice carried over all the laughter in the room, bringing the entertainment to a grinding halt.
All eyes were on the Clarences' table right at the moment Charles collapsed.
The other guests murmured amongst themselves; a few women even screamed.
Eddie dashed over to check on Charles's pulse. He shook his head glumly, looking on Maggie and delivering the news, "I'm sorry...he's gone."
Maggie cupped her mouth, muffling a shaky gasp of grieving horror. "My poor Charlie," she wept. "He was just fine earlier before..." Her face froze in realization as she looked on the half-eaten steak that was on Charles's plate. "Before he ate some of that steak!"
Following on this, Eddie examined the slab of meat. He jabbed at it with a fork to pick it up and sniff it. Having steaks from the Ink and Paint Club before, he knew how one smelt, and this one had a hint of something that didn't quite smell appetizing. He sliced off a small piece to taste and immediately spat it into a napkin.
"I don't know what it is, but somethin' tastes toxic in this steak!" he exclaimed in total disgust. "Mrs. Clarence, I think your husband was poisoned!"