"Quick, Ms. Bellum, call the Girls!"

The Mayor of Townsville ran around his office excitedly, waving his arms. His tall, redheaded assistant just stood staring at the old man.

"Mayor, this is the dumbest thing I've ever heard. If you want the Girls, call them yourself!"

She turned on her heel, walked into her private office off of his and slammed the door. The Mayor stopped his waving, shocked by her reaction. "Did she say dumb?" He grew agitated, waving his fists. "Well, I'll show her! This idea will make Townsville safer than ever!"

He purposefully strode to his desk and picked up the Powerpuff Hotline. He had no trouble putting a sense of urgency into his voice. His excitement had come roaring back.

The Powerpuff Girls flew over the city. They saw no smoke from a fire, none of Mojo Jojo's technological wonders begging to be turned into scrap, no robberies taking place, no monsters. It appeared to be a perfect, pleasant afternoon in Townsville. Needless to say, one of them wasn't happy with having her after-school cartoons interrupted.

"This better be good!" Buttercup grumbled loudly over the sound of the air rushing by their heads. "If it's that stupid pickle jar again..."

"Now, Buttercup," Blossom scolded. "I'm sure the Mayor has a very good reason for calling us."

"I hope it's his cookie jar this time," Bubbles said, her mouth watering.

Three faces stared down at the old man as they floated in his office.

Bubbles was aghast, shouting, "Mayor, are you crazy?"

Buttercup cracked, "A stock market for crimes? What a crock!"

"Mayor, this is the dumbest thing I've ever heard." Blossom said. Ms. Bellum, listening through the door, smiled when she heard that.

But the Mayor seemed unperturbed. "No, no, no, Buttercup. Not a market for crime, but a market for predicting crime. Have a seat, Girls, and..." his eyes went toward the door as if he knew his assistant was there, and he smiled smugly. "...let an expert tell you how the real world works."

Blossom noticed. "Ms. Bellum, are you there?"

Her answer was the tall woman coming out and walking up to them. "Hello, Girls. Have a seat and we'll all listen to the financial genius, here."

Her tone left no doubt of her opinion; Blossom didn't bother asking. Bellum produced three tiny stools, which the Girls remembered using at least once before in this office, then took a seat on the nearby settee.

In the meantime, the old man was dismissive of his assistant's misgivings. "Oh, pshaw," he said, waving a hand toward Bellum. "What do you ladies know about money except how to spend it?"

Three oversized sets of eyes narrowed dangerously at him over three rigid, small forms with their arms crossed. "I'm sure you're going to tell us," Blossom said icily.

And so he did.

"You see, Girls, my new Crime Futures Market works like this: Investors will buy and sell futures contracts, which are essentially predictions about what crimes they think will be committed in Townsville. Some lucky investor in a contract that comes true will collect the proceeds of investors who put money into the market but guess wrong. Pretty simple, huh?"

"Simple?" Bubbles cried, jumping up from her stool. "It's so unbelievably simple that it's stupid!"

"Mayor," Blossom said, no less outraged. "The idea of a city-run betting parlor on crime and wrongdoing is ridiculous, and not only that, it's...grotesque!"

"Yeah, Mayor, what the heck were you thinking when you came up with this one?" Buttercup asked. "Can't the city find some other way of making money than that?"

The Mayor still wasn't bothered. He just shook his head at the children. "Girls, girls, girls. This isn't about making money. Sure, we'll make a little off the interest until somebody hits the jackpot, but this is about helping you Girls. This is about making the city safer."

Buttercup thrust a hand out. "Oh yeah? Just how is this gonna stop one bad guy?"

"Oh, it won't stop 'em. It'll just help us catch 'em!"

The Girls looked over to Bellum for help but the woman had her face covered. They couldn't tell if she was laughing or what.

"Okay, Girls, lemme try again," the Mayor said condescendingly. "Now, I think it's safe to say most of the money's gonna go on Mojo Jojo. But we're going to make investors be specific on the crime they think will happen. Mojo predictions will turn up all over the city and somebody might get lucky. It's the other crimes I'm thinking about. People are gonna have to predict what bank gets robbed and when. See, we're thinking that the criminals themselves will place bets because they know what bank they're gonna rob."

"We?" Bellum interrupted.

He ignored her. "Only they'll wait 'til the last minute, and that's what tips us off. Not only that, but we know that sometimes other people know what's going on and we're hoping their sudden interest in this one particular crime will tip us off. That's when we call you Girls."

"Mayor, this is stupid!" Blossom declared. "You're just encouraging criminal activity!"

"Weeell..." Buttercup said slowly. "It might work if the police knew who all the investors were and checked 'em out."

The Mayor scratched his head. "Uh...no. Actually, the city can't participate and won't have access to the identities or funds of traders. That wouldn't be ethical."

Buttercup slapped her palms to her face. Bubbles couldn't believe what she was hearing. "Then not only are you encouraging it, you're rewarding it!"

Blossom jumped right in. "Right, Bubbles. What if somebody robs the corner store of ten bucks and we catch him and as soon as he gets out of jail he collects a million for 'predicting' it?"

"Ah, that's a very good question, Blossom. But I've already thought of that. A criminal can't collect for a crime he committed."

"Well, I still think it's a terrible idea!"

"Me too!" Bubbles cried, agreeing with the redhead.

Buttercup stood up. "Now hold on a second, guys. Maybe this isn't such a bad idea after all. Ms. Bellum, can we talk to you about it privately?"

The Mayor drummed his fingers on his desk, wondering what was taking them so long in there. His hand reached out for the intercom to sneak a listen.

"Ah, ah, ah, Mayor!" squawked Blossom's voice for the third time in five minutes.

"Stupid x-rays!" he mumbled.

Just a minute later that seemed like ten to him, the Girls floated out of Bellum's office. His assistant was right behind them. All of them had a totally different demeanor. Buttercup wore a smug smile, her arms crossed.

Bellum said, with some enthusiasm in her voice, "Sir, Buttercup has convinced me that we should give this plan a try."

Blossom was clearly pleased by what she'd heard. "Yeah, with two new conditions. Everyone who tries to collect has to pass a polygraph test saying they did not plan to split the proceeds with anyone having anything to do with the crime!"

"Yes," Bubbles said. "It will only reward the honest citizens who help us catch the crooks. And they have to wait six months before they get the reward money. No criminal is gonna wanna wait that long."

"Why, Buttercup," the Mayor crowed, very impressed. "What a practical young mind you have! I like it!"

So did the general populace when the story hit. Even the media loved it. The Mayor was given full credit for the scheme; the Powerpuff Girls, Buttercup mainly, refusing to take any for themselves. Within the first week of the new program, millions had been invested. As predicted, most of the money went down on Mojo Jojo. Unfortunately, Mojo kept his own counsel and did not conspire with anyone, so all bets were just that, bets. Any winner would score based on playing the percentages with a little help from Lady Luck, instead of the program's intended goal of gathering useful leads.

However, in the second week, one of Mojo's robot attacks was correctly predicted. By 4,719 subscribers to an investment letter that had sprung up, written by a computer geek who had just happened to have recorded all of Mojo's crimes, ever, and plotted them on a chart to predict the next one. The frenzied bidding on that one contract drove the contract price sky high. The eventual return to each investor, who on average had spent eleven hundred dollars, was $19 million split equally, or roughly four grand. Not bad at all. It showed the system worked. And those other investors who lost all their money? Their contracts, being random guesses essentially, had cost very little. No more than the cost of a dozen or so lottery tickets, and a whole lot more exciting. Some people complained about the idea of a group of investors with 'special' knowledge, but most knew that Mojo would be outraged at being 'predicted' and you could use that newsletter in the future to wrap your trash in. It would only work once.

Yes, the Mayor's plan was very popular. It was the talk of the town. The chance to be suddenly rich while possibly doing something good for their city had everyone's attention. But it had done little to prevent any real crimes from being committed. True, the Powerpuff Girls had been waiting at the scene of the 'winning' crime to pound the evil primate into submission one more time, but he was always going to be a threat. And, it seemed, he was always going to be someone's best chance at a big payoff. Most of the money still chased after the contracts involving his usual schemes. The Girls found themselves waiting at scenes of crimes that never took place, when they could have been useful elsewhere. Then, of course, there were still the monsters, whose deeds weren't exactly crimes. They were just doing what monsters did. So Townsville wasn't really any better off.

Daily, the 'prize jackpot', as many media outlets had begun to call it, grew and was reported prominently by those same outlets. Jackpot fever was rampant in Townsville. Street crime actually increased. None of those dummies or those who conspired with them for payoffs could pass their polygraphs, so Buttercup's revisions had helped in that regard. But the Girls were busier fighting crime than ever. Townsville was actually less safe.

Even Mojo himself came down with the fever, and he tried thinking of ways he could capitalize and get around the stupid rules that accursed Bellum had imposed. The Mayor was too much of a simpleton to come up with them on his own. Of course, he knew nothing of the Powerpuffs' involvement. One afternoon, three weeks into the program when the jackpot stood at $30 million, he got some unexpected help in furthering his goal.

The simian genius thought he had the perfect plan. He had meticulously written the whole thing down and was sitting in his easy chair in his volcano-top lair, reading it. The late afternoon sun streamed in through his windows; it was a very warm day outside, and he was very glad for the air-conditioning. Sweating was not good for his infected right ear, sustained when Bubbles had bitten it two weeks earlier. He finished reading and was satisfied that the plan was sound. He smiled at the brilliance of it, then began to read it again just for the sheer pleasure it would bring him.

A pounding on his door snapped him out of his reverie, and his anger only increased when he saw who was standing there at the top of the long staircase. They were dripping with perspiration.

Blossom smiled up at him, her bow wilting in the heat. "Hi, Mojo. Can we come in?"

"No!" the evil monkey thundered. "You have disturbed my perusal of the most brilliant plan I have ever conceived, that I was reading just now. Furthermore, you have no right to enter my residence without my permission because I did not say you could and I don't want you to. So remove yourselves from my doorstep and go away!"

"Is it an evil plan?" Bubbles asked pleasantly.

"Of course it is, you little-" Mojo stopped and put his hands over his mouth. "I mean, no, of course not. It is just-"

"Step aside, monkey boy," Buttercup growled. "We got probable cause."

"Buttercup!" Blossom shouted, smacking her sister's arm. "Sorry, Mojo. We're hot and thirsty and we only wanted to come into your nice, cool house for a minute and maybe get something cold to drink."

Mojo realized he was letting all his cool air out. He slammed the door with a huge grin and stood in front of it protectively.

"Please, Mojo?" Bubbles pleaded.

Buttercup looked down, contrite. "Sorry, Mojo. The Mayor's dumb plan has us running all over the city on wild goose chases and from crooks trying to cash in."

"Dumb? I think it is an excellent plan! So why should I help you?" He looked around over the city. "If you're so thirsty, go there and leave me alone!"

The Girls looked to where he was pointing. Across from the park, in front of a house, a small girl not much older than they were was selling lemonade.

"Let's go!" Buttercup shouted, but Blossom pulled her and Bubbles back.

"We will in a minute, but as long as we're here..." She snatched Mojo's scheme from him. "I'm going to read this thing." The single sheet of paper suddenly unfolded like an accordion, the thirty attached sheets tumbled to the step below.

Her sisters groaned. Mojo at first was furious, but as Blossom's eyes grew wider at what she was reading and she let out a low whistle, he grinned broadly and stood back to bask once again in his genius. The sweltering heat seemed to be bothering only the other two Powerpuffs.

"Hurry up, Blossom!" Buttercup barked while Bubbles kept eyeing the lemonade stand.

"I would, Buttercup," Blossom glowered at Mojo. "If he didn't have to say the same thing three times. But I have to hand it to you, Mojo. This is one of your best yet."

"What's it say?" Buttercup asked, suddenly interested. "So we can figure out how to stop it!"

"You will not stop it, Powerpuff Girls. You may stop me, but the plan is foolproof! Even from little fools such as yourselves it is foolproof and not able to be stopped."

"Bubbles, bite his other ear and make him shut up so I can read this." Blossom ordered.

Bubbles recoiled. "No! He tastes really awful!"

Buttercup grinned, Mojo and Bubbles scowled at each other and Blossom began to relate the gist of the repetitive, rambling scheme.

"He's going to commit an unspecified major crime and it's going to be one that nobody else will dream of him doing, so the contract for it will be dirt cheap."

Buttercup frowned. "Blossom, over half the money's on him, so somebody'll have to guess right! And besides, Mojo, you can't collect on one of your own crimes anyway."

The green-skinned simian just smiled.

"Not this time," Blossom continued. "First, he's gonna make a clone of himself that will deliver a sealed envelope to the office of the Crime Futures Market with a prediction inside and more than enough money to buy the contract. That clone will then be put into suspended animation."

Buttercup and Bubbles just floated there, blinking.

"It's a prediction practically nobody else will come up with and if one person should get lucky and guess, so what? Half the pot's still huge. Mojo is then gonna create a second clone to actually commit the crime. The actual crime for sure lots of people will guess. But they'll have Mojo doing it and they'll be wrong."

"Whoa," Buttercup breathed. "So the real Mojo won't even have to go to jail. But how's he gonna collect the money? He still planned it."

"After the six month waiting period, he'll take the first clone out of suspension and that one will collect the prize. It'll pass the polygraph because it had no knowledge of the scheme and was only delivering a sealed letter. Mojo pockets the cash."

She looked at the grinning chimp. "Very good, Mojo, but it still won't work."

"Yeah, your clones will be just like you," Bubbles giggled.

Buttercup smirked, "Do ya think they're really gonna listen to you?"

"Ah. They will be under my total control with the mind implants I will implant in their minds."

Both Girls looked to Blossom. "Yeah, that's in here," she confirmed. "It's a good one, Mojo. The plan itself isn't why it isn't gonna work."

"Then what can possibly stop it?"

"Us!" Blossom hissed, jumping right into his face and backing him into his door. "We're gonna stop it!"

"The Mayor's plan might've worked," Buttercup said, growling the rest, "But you're wrecking it!"

"Everybody's so busy dreaming up the big stunts you might pull that all they're doing is guessing and running us ragged!" Blossom complained.

Bubbles said, "And hardly anybody's keeping their eyes and ears open for the real crimes this program was s'posed to help us fight!"

"Yeah!" Buttercup scowled furiously, making Mojo cringe and back even further into his door. "Crime's getting worse instead of better and it's all your fault!"

In a calmer tone, Blossom continued. "The problem with Townsville is everybody thinks too big. The longer you don't commit any big crimes and nobody cashes in, the more they'll stop thinking about you."

"Maybe the jackpot will get really big," Bubbles said. "But then maybe people will start paying attention and giving us the tips about the other crimes like the Mayor wanted."

"So, Mojoke," Buttercup said menacingly, waving one fist inches from his nose. "You aren't doing any more big crimes or I'm gonna be all over your butt."

"We mean it, Mojo!" Bubbles cried. "I might even forget how yucky you taste!"

Mojo sank to the step, waving his hands and trembling. "Okay, okay, no more big crimes!"

Blossom grabbed him by his tunic and stood him upright; then straightened his collar like a mother straightens her little boy's bow tie. "That's a good monkey." She let go and turned away. "C'mon, Girls! Let's get some lemonade!"

Off they went as he watched them, but just as suddenly as they left, they stopped and turned around. "We'll be watching!" Buttercup shouted. They all had big grins. Mojo grinned back, and they zoomed away.

Regaining his confidence and his anger, Mojo stormed back inside his lair and slammed the door shut with a resounding thud.

"Accursed Powerpuffs! No more big crimes! That is my purpose for being, to commit outrageous evil acts of such shocking badness! Curses!"

His anger building, he went to his telescope to see where those meddling brats had flown off to. They were, in fact, across the avenue, smiling and chatting happily with the little lemonade vendor. They poured down two glasses apiece and the girl ran back inside, presumably to make more. His blood boiled as he watched the little menaces laughing and high-fiving one another. Curse them to eternity and back.

The girl returned with a fresh pitcher. The Powerpuffs drank nearly half, then he watched Blossom pull a ten-dollar bill out of her pocket and give it to the very surprised and pleased entrepreneur. He backed away from the telescope.

"Well! Selling lemonade is more profitable than I believed! It would be so easy to go down there and snatch the profits from that helpless kid...once the Powerpuffs are no longer there, that is. But that is far too small a crime for the great Mojo. Insignificant acts of wrongdoing are not what my simian brain is to be used for. It is beneath my superior intellect to commit such trivial-"

The primate stopped suddenly, his eyes growing huge along with his sharp-toothed grin.

"No big crimes, she says...muahahahahahaaa!!!"

Mojo Jojo walked back and forth with renewed vigor, his new scheme taking root in that big, evil brain.

"Yes. Yes! Yeesss!!! If I cannot commit big crimes then I will commit small ones! Townsville will never suspect such inconsequential misdoings so my trivial infractions of the law will not be predicted. Except by me!"

He rubbed his hands together gleefully. "Yes, that part of the plan will still work perfectly. My clone will do the deed instead of Mojo and my other clone will collect my winnings, which will be enormous and all mine!"

He hesitated for a bit, uncertainly. "But...am I really capable of stooping to such low acts?" Then he broke into a grin. "Oh, I think I might be! Muahahahaaa!"

He paused again; another thought coming to him. "I should not wait too long or my absence of doing major evilness will result in someone else cashing in for some other minor misdeed. I must begin planning my first tiny caper!"

Mojo returned to his telescope, to view once again what had inspired him. The accursed Powerpuffs were nowhere in sight. But the small businessperson was still there, admiring her ten-spot where it lay in a jar atop a pile of change.

He backed away once more, again rubbing his hands together. "I think I could do with a little practice!"

What could be lower on the scale of criminality than robbing a child's lemonade stand? Mojo looked about his lair, wondering what weapon he should take. He smiled suddenly as it occurred to him that the only thing lower than holding up a lemonade stand would be doing it while pointing a banana at the helpless brat.

Little Sally, a cute six-year old with long, straight brown hair and dressed in an adorable Hawaiian capri set and denim sneakers, couldn't be happier. It was great living so close to Townsville Park. Lots of thirsty people to serve on a hot summer's afternoon. At twenty-five cents a glass, she had sold over ten dollars' worth before those nice Powerpuff Girls had insisted on paying too much. She'd have gladly given the famous crimefighters theirs for free, but Blossom insisted, since they drank what she had all up and she had to go make more just for them. And besides, Blossom had pointed out, it was more than fair since Buttercup wanted extra sugar in the new batch. More than twenty dollars, and the next day was supposed to be just as hot.

But it was near her dinnertime and everyone else's, too. People were hurrying to get home on foot or in the rush hour traffic that she was careful to stay on her side of the sidewalk away from. She hadn't had a customer since the Girls left. Maybe it was time to close up for the day.

Sally heard a screech of tires and looked up to see a car lurching to a stop. The driver waved his fists and yelled at the foolish pedestrian for not watching where they were going. The pedestrian ignored it and came across the street, directly toward her. To her shock, it was none another than the evil Mojo Jojo!

She never noticed the driver's expression as he got out of there in a hurry, nor the other passing motorists' as they slowed but did not dare to stop. But the famous evil villain was smiling at her. He didn't look mean at all. Maybe he was just thirsty. Sally smiled back as he arrived at her stand.

"Hello, little girl," Mojo began cheerfully. "I would like a glass of your lemonade so that I may be refreshed by drinking it. Hold the ice, please."

Sally smiled again and poured the chilled liquid into a plastic tumbler, careful not to let any ice cubes fall in. She handed him the glass and waited. Mojo grinned, showing off his sharp teeth, and chugged it. His cheeks instantly swelled and his eyes bugged out, before spitting the drink out on the sidewalk and gasping for air.

"I asked for lemonade, not lemon-flavored pure sugar!" the chimp fumed, banging the glass down on the card table stand.

Sally froze for a second, not knowing what he would do to her, but he just stood there scowling. "I-I'm very sorry, sir! I can go make you some fresh right now!"

"Never mind!" Mojo snapped. "I do not wish to be poisoned further."

Sally whimpered, "You don't have to pay."

That seemed to satisfy him. He stopped scowling and smiled again. "Oh, it was an accident, I'm sure. I should give you something." Out came the banana.

Sally looked at it. "Um...I don't take bananas. If you still want to pay, it's twenty-five cents." She jumped back when it was suddenly shoved in her face.

"No, you stupid kid! I am giving you a lesson in business! Never trust an evil genius supervillain!"

With that, Mojo seized the cash jar and stepped back, laughing uproariously. What he didn't know was that Sally had gotten a short business lesson from Blossom, Bubbles and Buttercup.

Sally scowled up at the simian brute, who was too busy enjoying himself. With fury driving her six-year old legs, she lunged.

"You shoulda brought a gun, Banana Man!"

Sally kicked Mojo in the right shin, then grabbed onto her jar. Startled, Mojo howled in pain, and he angrily threw the small child off. But not without her hard-earned day's receipts. She landed hard on the sidewalk; the jar flew from her hands and shattered on the concrete. Coins flew everywhere. Sally captured the ten before it could blow away, leaving the rest. She charged the literally hopping-mad monkey and kicked his good leg, even harder. Mojo screamed curses and fell in a heap, then got up, hopping on both sore legs and continuing to mutter curses.

Sally's mother heard, then saw the commotion and rushed out and bashed Mojo across his glass brain-cap with a rolling pin. Sally was anxiously gathering up her coins, when all of a sudden, seemingly from nowhere, six police cruisers screeched to a stop in the street. Three news media vehicles joined them, and the street was instantly full of police doing their job and reporters doing theirs. A startled but happy Sally posed for photos next to her captured robber. A humiliated Mojo Jojo was dragged away in cuffs and photographed as such.

Half an hour later, he was being booked and sent to night court where the day's misdemeanors were heard, adjudicated and cleared from the books. He was forced to wait his turn in a large, dingy room at Justice Hall with all of the other mangy street criminals. Muttering to himself at the indignity, he tried to keep to himself as best he could while being shackled. It wasn't helping any that the two large TV screens suspended from the ceiling were constantly replaying his ignonimious defeat. Catcalls greeted his burning ears.

That bunch of juvenile delinquents, the Gangreen Gang, were there, splattered with paint from their latest graffiti binge. The leader, Ace, cackled, "Aw, don't let it gitcha down, Mojo! When life hands ya lemons, make lemonade! Ahahahahaha!!"

Mojo slumped even lower on the wood bench, waiting his turn. When he was finally taken before the judge two hours later, he swallowed his pride and mumbled 'Guilty,' just so he could get out of there. He was fined $100 and ordered to pay double restitution to the girl as punishment, even though the accursed brat hadn't lost a penny. He gladly paid the pittance in cash on the spot and walked out a free primate.

Mojo walked the few blocks home, glad it wasn't more, muttering again to himself. He was going to make those Powerpuff Girls pay. Once he had improved at planning small crimes, of course. He was already dreading the morning newspaper and his face all over it.

It was worse than he imagined. Oh, the picture was actually pretty small, as was the headline that read, 'Toddler Foils MJJJ 'Banana' Stickup'. The whole thing took up only the bottom third of the front page. It was the rest that was so upsetting.

The bold, black words at the top shouted, 'Mojo's Soured Lemonade Caper Nets $30 Mil. Jackpot!'

"What?! Some accursed fool correctly predicted that?!"

He smelled a rat. Three of them, in fact. Well, he'd just see about that.

The news that the Powerpuff Girls had won the jackpot was huge, and met by instant skepticism by many, both privately and in the media. Mojo Jojo immediately threw gasoline on the smoldering blaze with his assertions that they had convinced him to commit the crime so they could collect, and then split the pot with him. The winning futures contract had been purchased late the previous afternoon, after the encounter the Girls and Mojo both admitted to having. It looked bad for the heroes. But there were still the required polygraph tests.

The result: Mojo failed his polygraph test. All of the Girls passed theirs. They had no advance knowledge that Mojo was planning to commit such a crime and were merely playing a hunch, they said, and a long-shot one at that. They were just lucky, that was all.

At the large, ceremonial presentation three days later on the steps outside Townsville Hall of the huge, fake check for $30 million (that wouldn't be good for six months), the Powerpuff Girls floated proudly next to their father, Professor Utonium, and the Mayor of Townsville and his assistant Sara Bellum. A tremendous crowd was there that day to watch, and cheer, and a few, still grumble that the fix was in.

The Mayor spoke briefly in glowing terms about the success of the new program and how it was generating more calls, or predictions, actually, of possible future criminal activity. None of it had panned out for the simple reason that the clause that barred crooks and associates from conspiring to collect was working to reduce crime. Then the check was presented to the Girls to flashing and whirring cameras.

Bellum, somewhat jokingly, asked how the Girls planned to spend all that money. Professor Utonium grabbed it and said it was all going into their college savings account, with a grin toward his Girls. Then he quietly announced that the Girls had something very important to tell everyone, and he stepped back. Blossom and her sisters were now in the limelight and floated before the microphone. Blossom took the lead.

"We have a confession to make."

There was a sharp intake of breath that was very loud, there being thousands of people doing it. Even louder was the gasp when Blossom solemnly said, "We rigged the system."

The Mayor angrily ripped the huge piece of cardboard out of their hands and ordered the police to arrest the criminals. But Bellum interceded and asked for the Girls' story to be heard out.

Blossom thanked Bellum and resumed her speech. She explained Mojo's 'clone' scheme and the technical brilliance behind it. She also told the story of that afternoon four days past. "We know Mojo well enough to know exactly how he would react if we threatened him for doing any more big crimes. We planted the seed of doing little ones in his head with the lemonade stand. We bought the contract and then went to hide in the bushes at Sally's house just in case she needed help, but she did just great. You see, everybody, technically, we won that money fair and square. We followed the rules of the program to the letter, so we are going to keep the money and donate it all to charity."

Some of the crowd began to boo and shout 'Fraud!' and 'We want our money back!' Buttercup grabbed the mike and told them all to shut up, which they did.

Blossom turned to the Mayor. "We did this to prove to you what a terrible idea this program is."

Bubbles took the mike and addressed the crowd. "Trying to make money off of other people's misfortune is wrong. You deserve to lose the money you gambled and you all should be ashamed."

"And the only way for you to understand was to demonstrate it." Buttercup said. "You see, what we were worried about was that even with all the rules you can come up with to keep people from cheating, somebody will always find a way around them. We proved it."

Bellum leaned into the mike and said, "Thank you, Buttercup. She convinced me and her sisters this was the only way to get the point across to the Mayor and the people."

Blossom took over again, looking at the disheartened Mayor. "Mayor, I know you thought you were helping the city, but the record shows that people weren't reporting suspected criminal activity to the police, but to their broker with those stupid futures contracts. Everybody was motivated by greed, not by wanting to help. And it only ended up encouraging criminals, not stopping them."

Buttercup told the silenced crowd, "I learned the hard way about greed. It makes you do bad things, even if you think you're doing good. I was greedy and paid through my teeth for it," she added with an expensive, professionally-enhanced grin.

That was a story that was well-known around Townsville. It got laughs when everybody could use some. The Mayor knew an opportunity when he saw it, being the seasoned political animal he was.

"So, can we all agree this is a terrible program and we should trash it?"

"Yes!!" was the resounding shout.

"Are you gonna forgive me and vote for me in the next election?"

The 'Ummm...' was almost as loud.

"And for my smart assistant, Ms. Bellum?"

"Yay!!!"

That crisis averted, Bellum started to announce the end to the ceremony, but the cell phone in her pocket chirped. It was heard by all in the crowd. She stepped back to take the call, listened briefly, and held it out to her boss.

Breathlessly, she said, "Sir, it's the Pentagon! They heard about the Crime Futures Program on the news and they want to talk to you!"

"Why, Ms. Bellum? So they can tell me what a dummy I am, too?"

"Uh, no, Sir. They love it and are planning to implement it themselves to fight terrorism!"

Blossom looked to Buttercup, then to Bubbles. The sisters seemed to agree on something and nodded their heads together. Blossom spoke for all of them as they tensed their bodies, ready to take to the sky. She narrowed her eyes and a nasty grin appeared.

"You wanna bet?"

Author's notes: This was inspired, no, provoked...by the news story I read late Monday, 7-28-03. I couldn't believe what I was reading. I have to wonder if some of the people working for us have a firm grasp on reality...AT ALL. This news was so positively scary that I immediately determined to call my three representatives in Congress first thing Tuesday to express my outrage, and then follow up with letters. Then I began to write this.

Obviously, the public scrutiny that the news coverage brought changed the mind of someone big enough. When I got up on the 29th, I saw that the 'idea' had already been squelched. Too late, the damage is done. What an embarrassment.

So, the sails sort of went out of this as a result but I decided to go ahead and finish and make as good a story as I could out of it. Here are URLs (just copy & paste) to the first news story that lit the fire and the follow-up to it.

I am still going to write those letters, though, asking someone to find out what kind of idiots we have 'protecting' us. It frightens me that this sort of immoral thinking (OK, to be effective you must at least discuss all possibilities before rejecting the abhorrent ones) ever got past the talk stage to actual funding. I hope that maybe some of you will join me.

Just keep in mind that not everyone working at the Pentagon or CIA is from the same party as the President. Many are career bureaucrats from both parties, so you can't automatically assume that Bush knew about or approved of this.

And when some other issue arises that is important to you, let your opinion be known to the people who work for you. A phone call is good, a personal letter (form letters are ignored) is better. Demand a response. Even those of you who aren't of voting age yet. Your voice can make a difference.

Gary Curtis

July 29, 2003

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