“You again,” Ace said.
He wasn’t. He was here for Tumaini —a rare, talking gray parrot last seen trading insults with a poacher outside Arusha. But the case had taken a turn. A sacred Maasai chief’s staff had vanished the same night. The parrot had been spotted riding a wildebeest. And someone had glued a fake horn onto a very confused donkey. ace ventura in africa
“Yep. Hybrid. Zebra and… hamster ? No, that’s crazy.” He pulled a tiny monocle from his neon Hawaiian shirt. “But I’ve seen crazier. Last Tuesday, a goldfish framed a ferret for embezzlement.” “You again,” Ace said
And with that, Ace Ventura—now wearing a leopard-print thong over his shorts, because Africa—dove headfirst into a termite mound, emerging seconds later with a stolen emerald and a very angry meerkat riding his face. But the case had taken a turn
“Tuesday,” he mumbled through fur. “Definitely Tuesday.”
The sweltering African sun beat down on the red earth of the Serengeti. Inside a rattling Land Rover, Ace Ventura adjusted his zebra-print bucket hat, stuck two fingers in his mouth, and let out a shrieking, warbling call that sent a nearby troop of baboons scattering.
Ace knelt beside a pile of dung, sniffed it deeply, and nodded.