(THEME MUSIC PLAYING)
NARRATOR: There are 100 million stories in the big city.
Okay, maybe that's an exaggeration.
But there sure are a lot of stories like them.
Truth is stranger than fiction when you're a private eye.
(THUNDER RUMBLES)
The balmy weather wasn't doing a canine card shark
named Spike any good.
His poker playing buddies were disappearing.
Will youse just be quiet and let me tell it?
As I was saying, the first to go was a pooch named Scruffy.
Then it was my best pal, Clancy.
I'm starting to suspect foul play.
(GOOSE HONKING)
You got to help me find 'em fellas.
The saddest part is,
them mutts still owe me a pound of kibble.
NARRATOR: When a guy like Spike puts his money where his mouth is,
you got to take it seriously.
There's a game tonight at my place,
in the Bowery Bums apartments.
NARRATOR: As 9:00 rolled around, they made their way to Spike's place.
The neighborhood was definitely on the seedy side.
But the buy-in wasn't exactly chicken feed.
A 50-pound bag of kibble.
-To top it off, -(KNOCKING)
they were about to come face-to-face
with some of the toughest junkyard dogs in town.
-Ooh, my... -(DOOR OPENS)
Hey, fellas, the game's over here.
NARRATOR: It was time to ante up and play some serious poker.
But in a game where bluffing is everything,
-it turns out the dogs are pretty transparent. -(PANTING)
You could tell at a glance that Gorgeous George had a hot hand.
Pugsy had a pair of jacks, at least.
But clearly, lady luck had left Red Herring
-and Stinker out in the cold. -(BOTH SHIVERING)
Spike on the other hand was a breed apart.
His poker face was a total blank.
(SHIVERING)
Too bad, all I got is a full house.
-Beat that, you flea bags. -(GASPS)
I win.
NARRATOR: Spike was really raking in the chips
and the P Eyes started to wonder if maybe this case was an inside job.
The remaing dogs all had one thing in common.
ALL: Yeah, we all hate cats.
(GASPS)
(TOM PURRING)
Break it up, you mutts, we gotta be practical.
With Scruffy and Clancy out of the mix,
we got to settle for whatever disgusting piece of filth that gutter spits up.
No offense, Cat. So as long as he's here on my say-so,
there'll be none of this.
Or this.
But, Spike, how about this?
-Or this? -(CRACKS)
Then how about this?
Especially not that, Stinker.
I'll lose my deposit.
Yeah, but Spike, I got to go
(SHAKILY) real bad.
-Me too, Spike. -Me three, Spike.
All right, all right.
Let's all hit the park and give our best to a tree.
Be back in 10.
NARRATOR: While the boys took themselves for a walk,
the one called Stinker gave them all the slip.
The mouse decided to follow Stinker's trail.
(FOOT SKIDDING)
-(CLATTERING) -It turns out Stinker didn't need
a bathroom break after all.
(EXCLAIMING) That's the stuff.
NARRATOR: He just liked to dumpster dive for kicks.
STINKER: Oh, yeah. Oh, yeah. Oh, it stinks so much.
(SHUTTER CLICKING)
NARRATOR: When the game resumed, Gorgeous George was missing too.
The Private Eyes knew it couldn't have been Stinker
since the pictures proved he was clean.
Even if he had been up to his ears in garbage.
I hired a detective not a shutterbug.
I'm runnin' out of dogs to beat in poker here.
Good thing we still got enough for a game.
Let's ante up.
NARRATOR: As the next hand got underway,
the detectives noticed that Red Herring was acting a little fishy.
(IMITATING FISH GAPING)
I'll be right back, fellas.
I need a drink of water.
NARRATOR: But it wasn't H2O Red was filling up on out in the kitchen.
When Red Herring returned looking more like a blue whale,
the P Eyes knew it was time to bring him in for questioning.
When it comes to grilling a dog
nobody does it better than these two.
They also knew how to interrogate a suspect.
The evidence against Red Herring was really stacking up.
And his file was right out in the open.
But they checked his record,
and it was clean as a whistle.
-(WHISTLES) -(RECORD CLATTERS)
What? You think I stole that dog food to feed all the missing mutts?
That does it, I know my rights.
-I want to talk to my lawyer. -LAWYER: Hey, hiya, Red?
-Oh, hi, Saul. -How's things?
Ah, can't complain. How's the family?
We're good. Well, so long, buddy. Take it easy.
You too.
NARRATOR: Enough stalling. They need some real information.
(POPS)
(BOTH SLAPPING)
Okay, quit all the rough stuff,
I can't take it no more.
I'll talk. You wanna know who done it?
It was Spike, that's who.
He only hired you to take suspicion off himself.
-(SWITCH CLICKS) -(SCREAMING)
NARRATOR: Red had flown the coup, hopped a bus,
hit the road, jumped the shark,
ate the cannoli.
Uh, um... Sorry.
(TRAFFIC LIGHT DINGS)
It was time to head back to Spike's place.
But with Red gone too, the air of tension was so thick,
-(CHAINSAW WHIRRING) -you could cut it with a chainsaw.
Well, at least we still got enough for a game.
Let's ante up.
I said "ante", not "ant."
(ANT SCREAMS)
Where are the cards now?
Stinker, I smell a rat, and I think it's you.
You're barking up the wrong tree, Spike.
Honest.
-(LIGHT SWITCH CLICKING) -(SCREAMING)
(SWITCH CLICKS)
NARRATOR: Now they were really in the dark.
And Red's story didn't add up.
Why would Spike ruin his own gambit?
Maybe it was time to quit the case while they still could.
SPIKE: Don't leave me now, Cat.
I'm in the doghouse, here.
Can't you see I'm the next to get it.
NARRATOR: Meanwhile, out in the hallway, clues were piling up like...
Like clues that pile-up in a hallway.
Sorry, I'm all out of snappy metaphors.
Okay, gumshoe, you caught us red-handed.
My name's Red. Get it?
We kidnapped ourselves.
We got fed-up with losing our collars to that big bully Spike.
STINKER: Yeah, the big Stinker ain't never lost a game in his life.
NARRATOR: You couldn't really blame the poor mutts.
It was time to close the book on this case,
-(BOTH SNORING) -and get back to the daily grind.
As for old Spike, there wasn't a dog left in town
who'd play him anymore.
So he had to find some new companions.
But cats are known for being inscrutable.
I give up.
Nothing beats a full house of pussy-cats.
(SIGHS)