“Anything to declare?” The customs agent asked.

A middle aged man with dead eyes, the agent waited. A trickle of sweat escaped Kirby’s hairline and raced down his forehead. Crossing his arms, the agent nodded towards the suitcase.

“Only my genius,” Kirby joked.

A high pitched squeaky laugh erupted from Kirby. Fifi elbowed him in the ribs. She mouthed, “calm down, as she pretended to scratch her nose.

Kirby added, “Oscar Wilde, right. You must hear that all the time, huh?”

Sweat droplets sprouted across his upper lip. Fifi and Kirby exchanged a look while the agent donned a fresh pair of gloves. Fifi stifled a yelp. Kirby lifted his bag onto the examination table. Raising a weary brow, the agent tapped Kirby’s suitcase with a gloved finger.

“Yes. Every. Day. Anything to declare? Any goods purchased abroad, sir,” the customs agent asked flatly.

“Why are we being singled out? Why us. There were a whole plane load of people. I just think—“ Fifi said in an excited rush.

“Now hon let the man do his job,” Kirby said. “No I don’t think so.”

Kirby gave her a meaningful look Then he unzipped his suitcase. Sharp yet fetid, a stench oozed up from the case. The agent leaned back in disgust.

“I guess I should have washed this track suit. I slipped in something mucky,” Kirby said, picking up a gray hoodie with a suspicious brown stain. “I thought it was chocolate cake or a chunk of mud. It wasn’t was it, hon?”

Kirby waved the rancid smelling hoodie at the agent’s face. The scent of week old fish guts in a dirty diaper smacked everyone in the face. Fifi gagged. Blanching, the agent slammed the suitcase close. He waved the couple away. Carefully, Kirby lifted his case from the table.

“Don’t jostle them. They are worth a fortune,” Fifi whispered.

“I know, dammit. We are going to set the culinary world on fire,” Kirby whispered back.

Beneath the befouled clothes, the suitcase held a secret compartment. Layers of moist shaghum moss and giant African snails packed tight filled the suitcase’s compartment. With quick steps they headed for the shuttle to the parking lot whispering over the details of their gastropub’s new menu.

“That was probably the worst idea you’ve ever had…yet it worked,” Fifi said as they rolled their treasure