Fat Freddie regained consciousness in what appeared to be a pool hall. Well, it damned well better have been a pool hall because there were about two dozen pool tables, around 400 pool balls and an indeterminate number of pool cues within plain sight. There was also a sign on the window that said rolraP drailliB only the letters were either backwards or in a foreign alphabet. In his current state of consciousness, Fat Freddie wasn't exactly sure which was the case, but he was pretty sure it meant "Pool Hall" in some language. At any rate, the place was closed so there were no sounds of colliding billiard balls, a favor for which Freddie was highly grateful, considering that his head felt like it had been hit by a lead pipe which, observant readers may recall, it had.

Soon after concluding that he was definitely in a pool hall, Fat Freddie also came decided that he must also be tied up. The combination of inability to feel his arms or legs plus the presence of substantial lengths of rope around his wrists, elbows, ankles, knees and neck made the conclusion a real no brainer. Furthermore, what he was tied to was a shoeshine chair. Damn! Shoeshine chairs are bolted to the floor. Even an ape of Fat Freddie's size couldn't rock one of them hard enough for it to turn over. The best Fat Freddie could hope for was that someone might shine his shoes while he was waiting for whoever had sapped him to finish the job.

"Well, Fat Freddie'" a voice crooned from behind him, "good to see you again. Sorry it can't be under better circumstances." Freddie tried to turn toward the voice, but the combination of the rope around his neck and the pain in his head made it, well, not really impossible, but certainly kinda stupid considering that by the time this paragraph is finished whoever it was is going to have walked around to the front side of the chair anyway.

"Well I'll be damned!" Fat Freddie sorta half moaned half groaned (you know, the way people in movies do after they've been hit with a lead pipe and kidnapped) as he found himself looking at the largest Orangutan he could ever recall seeing, "Big Daddy Malone! The scourge of Schenectady. I shoulda known it'd be you behind this. But why?"
"Why?" Big Daddy sneered, "Why? Because you Miami apes are gettin' to big for your britches. That's why! First you keep all the best fruit and vegetables for yourselves. Then when guys like me wanna make a few extra bucks by cuttin' some deals with humans so we can maybe have some really nice ripe papayas every now and then it's 'Nooooo!' from you Miami bunch. What's it to ya if I wanna fence a few hot diamonds? Who's gonna get hurt? Some human? Who gives a rat's ass? All we want is money to buy some nice ripe bananas. I've got a message for you to deliver to The Boss. You can tell him he ain't my boss. Tell him we don't care how you do it in friggin' Florida. This is Chicago. And Chicago's a long way from Miami."
By now, Fat Freddie had regained most of his consciousness and a fair amount of his cussedness and sarcasm (though in the back of his mind he was still wondering when he'd get the shoeshine). "Well all right, asshole," he barked in Big Daddy's face, "I'll deliver your message. Now, is there any reason why I can't be untied?"
"Well," sneered Big Daddy, "in fact...   There is!"
The Orangutan quickly stepped behind the shoeshine chair, fumbled around with something Fat Freddy couldn't see, and then stepped back in front of the chair. Fat Freddy was expecting to see a Tommy gun or maybe a pair of loppers to take off a finger or two but, no, what he saw Big Daddy holding brought a far greater fear to his heart than any gat or shiv could have ever produced. In his hands, Big Daddy held a 0-18 Martin guitar and it was obvious that he didn't know how to use it! The fact that Big Daddy Malone bore the most coincidental of superficial resemblances to the porcine human folk singer Burl Ives had convinced him that he too had a gift for guitar-accompanied renditions of ballads, work songs and other such human nonsense. With a flourish and an attempt at a circle-of-fifths turnaround intro, the huge Orang launched into "The Big Rock Candy Mountain" which immediately elicited screams of pain from the bound Fat Freddie. The scene was reminiscent of having to listen to Vogon poetry, only the Vogons wouldn't visit Earth for another forty years or so. But, then again, who's keeping track of past, present and future around here anyway?
After the full four-minute long rendition of the song, Big Daddy had reduced Fat Freddie to a quivering shell of his former self. His eyes were rolled back into his head and his tongue protruded from his mouth, from which a viscous drool was issuing. "All right," called Big Daddy to two of his henchmen, "Untie him and throw him out onto the sidewalk. Did you hear me? I said untie him! Take out the Goddamned ear plugs ya friggin' nitwits!"