The ##

At this point, you’re probably familiar with Jack Waffles and his proclivities. Here at The ##, we became a bit concerned for our freelance blogger, as we hadn’t heard from him in several weeks. A few days ago we received a handwritten note from Jack, with no return address and stamps from at least 4 different countries. It was scrawled on Ritz-Carlton stationary, looked like it came from somewhere near Cairo, and had a ring of whiskey around the top right corner. The text was difficult to read, but the rough transcription is as follows:

Hello there ##,

Sorry I’ve been out of touch for some time, I seem to have encountered a bit of a tough spot here. Short of the long, some gentlemen with very [unreadable] titles suspected that I had hustled them in a game of baccarat, and I’ve been trying to get away from this god-forsaken rock ever since.  

I need you to do me a favor. Call the following number: [REDACTED]. A man named Montenegro will answer the phone. Tell him that Jack is trying to pull off an Avignon, and that he’ll be in Prague shortly. He’ll know what it means.

Thanks again, chaps. With any luck, I’ll be stateside in a few days. Keep a cold one frosty for me.

Cheers,

Jack