A/N: (sigh) It all started— well, I had Lukey, and I had Boomer, all I needed was a story for them. So I decided to rewrite "Chicago" with them instead of Roxie and Velma. So, keeping in mind that my favorite phrase is "Chaos ensued" here we go with chapter one.

The Heartwarming Story of Lukey and Boomer

Or, How Two Grown Men Managed To Pull Together After Being Arrested For Crimes They Thought About Committing But Did Not, In Fact, Commit

Chapter One: Beginning

Lets say it started that day in November, you know, the month that comes after— let's see— October? It was a warmish afternoon, and the air smelled like leftovers. I'm not sure what kind of leftovers. Perhaps something with zucchini squash.

The smell of the air is immaterial, and I don't know why I brought it up in the first place.

Anyway, my wife had just left me. Lets say this was about one thirty, one thirty five maybe, and she had left an hour before. Now, I hadn't cried, or done anything a man isn't supposed to do, other than rifled through her drawers to see if she'd left any loose change or anything by accident. Broads to that sometimes, you know. They're so full of loose change you'd think they kept it in their underwear or something. And they leave it behind all the time. Last week I went through my landlady's sofa cushions and found a dollar twenty three. I had to give it back when she caught me, but it was there all the same. I bet if I had tried to hide behind the sofa instead of underneath the cushions she never would have known I was there.

So. My wife is gone. And I'm beginning to get hungry, because, you know, it was an hour past lunch time at least, and what does one do at lunch time? One eats. That's why they call it lunch time. So I go to the door and pull the thing open after screwing with the handle a few minutes, because the thing sticks all the time, I don't know, they call this building high-class. Well what's high-class if not smoothly-operating doorknobs, I'd like to know.

So I get the door open finally, and stick my head out, trying to decide where I want to go to lunch, Barney's or Vanilla Moose, and I see the strangest thing. There's Lorna, Lorna's my wife, the one who left me, weren't you paying attention? There's Lorna, and she's apparently got a boyfriend, and they're walking down the street together hand in hand. This seems completely ridiculous to me, because for one thing, Lorna was only gone for an hour and for another, she's ugly as sin. I mean it, when she was young her parents tied a steak around her neck just to get the dog to play with her. And she's so fat she's got her own time zone. I could say more but I'm trying to be nice.

So I step out there and I wave a little and I shout, "Hey, Lorna!" like any normal guy would. The eyewitnesses who insist that I called her some words that by right should be asterisked were dead wrong on that front, because that's all I said.

There was, all of a sudden, a sound like Pop Pop Pop! Exactly like that. Pop Pop Pop! I looked around to see who was jumping on bubble wrap and I didn't even see it when Lorna and her boyfriend hit the dirt. All I know was there was a lot of noise and a lot of crowds and a big guy in a cop uniform with a nightstick, and the words going around in my head—

"Lukey, you got some 'splainin' to do—"