Honey Bear, as it is, tends to hang around in Potato Town’s notorious gas station/rest stop, The Pump And Dump. It’s just an awful, awful place. A chap could get herpes just by looking at it. You inquire at the front counter, where a well coiffed vagabond is attending to business.
“Honey Bear. Tell me where he is.”
Well Coiffed Counter Attendant: “Jeez, somebody pooped in your Fruit Loops this morning, take it easy. He’s out back.”
To assert your dominance, you take a package of beef jerky off the counter without paying, and head out back.
You get out there, and of course, he’s up to no good. Potato Town is just one of those places that for some reason has all these cliched characters in it, so Honey Bear has all these hot women surrounding him, feeding him grapes as he lounges on a fine animal pelt, and then a couple of stupid henchmen messing around by an old Cadillac. He immediately slaps you in the face.
“That’s for my hamster, ya jerk.”
You see, one night a few years back, you were partying it up at Honey Bear’s condo after your sports team won a big game. You fed his pet hamster some of the beef jerky that you are now ironically eating, and the little guy choked to death. These things happen.
“Alright, I deserved that. Anyways, M&M’s hot, adulterous wife. Where is she?”
“Yeah right, like I would tell you that, you fart-head.”
“So you do know where she is?”
“Maybe I do, maybe I don’t.” He then begins to choke on a grape. The hot women surrounding him obviously don’t know CPR, and you’re not about to get in there and do mouth-to-mouth. After some violent wretching, and a stinky gurgle, Honey Bear loses consciousness. This happens all the time. He’ll be fine in a little bit.
While waiting for Honey Bear to wake, you chat with the hot women that Honey Bear shares familiar relations with, and you find that they are extremely unintelligent, and can contribute absolutely nothing to solving this case. Finally, Honey Bear comes to. You slap him around a bit, keeping his henchmen at bay with your butter knife. He gives you two nuggets of information: 1) the hot, adulterous wife was here a couple days ago, to stock up on snacks and supplies for a party she was planning to attend at the Grind Room, a raunchy Potato Town nightclub, and 2) she was accompanied by a piggish dealer in the cloth trade named Larry Swineshoggington, who conducts business at a haberdashery over on 5th.
“You owe me a favor for this, Figgypudding,” says Honey Bear.
“Sure. Whatever,” you reply as you plot your next move.