Razzle Mikini and His Band of Misfits

Razzle Mikini stepped into the doorway, silhouetted by the noon sun. He stood in the entrance between the two oak doors with a cowboy hat on his head and handkerchief around his neck. Dust swirled around him into the foyer. He drew deep on a cigarette that burned red, illuminating his face for an instant, but not his eyes. No one ever saw his eyes.

The cigarette burned to its end and he tossed it onto the ground and stamped it out with his foot. "Well boys," he said in a mix of southern drawl and British accent, "the place is ours."

A group of five suddenly filled the entranceway, blocking out any light for an instant as they ran past Razzle and into the house, hollering and waving their hands in the air.

Mikini stepped forward and flipped the light switch. Although he could see in the dark, he wanted to know for sure what he had just acquired. Directly in front of him stood an imitation Greek statue in the middle of a luxurious fountain. He smiled at the naked figure and walked towards it. "You're going to see every little detail that goes on here," he said once he was face to face with the woman. "Promise you won't talk."