Omaha, Nebraska. Well, in the outskirts. A rental car pulled out at ‘The fudge factory, inc’. Blu got off the drivers side and a very terrified Philip jumped out of the passenger seat. “Inspector’ he said, ‘passing those corn syrup trucks was foolish. We barely made it by.’ Blu snorted and showed his badge to the cop guarding the entrance. At that moment, Mr. Brown came out, distressed. When will your men move the body out of the mixer? It has been two days. I need the mixer to make fudge! This is costing me money!'
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