Now Leroy Brown he's trouble, and he stands about six feet four
All the downtown ladies call him: "treetop lover," the studs they call him: "Sir"
He's bad, bad Leroy Brown, baddest man in the whole damn town
Badder that old King Kong and meaner that a junkyard dog!


Classic Crooner sang along to the record, dropping his voice when the swear word came on. He wasn't sure if swearing was allowed when singing, but Candy Dandy didn't allow it at any other time, so he wasn't going to take his chances. His audience was a half cleaned room, stuffed animals lined up on his bed giving the eyes he needed to belt out his favorite tunes. It was that room he was supposed to be cleaning, but he got distracted once Sinatra came on.

Now Friday - 'bout a week ago, Leroy shootin' dice
And at the end of the bar, sat a lady named Dorris (Morris)
Man she sure looked nice
And Well he laid his eyes upon her,
That's when the big scene began


He swayed around his room, picking up other toys and tossing them in his toybox. Picking up a sweater, he found his microphone and smiled widely. Soon cleaning was forgotten, and the show was on.

It started with switching the record.

"I've got you under my skin. I've got you deep in the heart of me." he sang into the microphone, swaying back and forth in front of his full length mirror. He practiced his singing smile, the one that would look good while he crooned.

"So deep in my heart that you're really a part of me.
I've got you under my skin."

Man, that was the life. Sinatra had it good. Spent all his time singing, and making money off of it. Plus, the ladies thought that he was a greatest thing since sliced bread.

I could be that cool. He thought, belting the chorus out loud and proud. As a matter of fact, I could be cooler than Sinatra himself!

"I would sacrifice anything come what might
For the sake of havin' you near
In spite of the warning voice that comes in the night
And repeats - how it yells in my ear:"

Here comes the big finish! He took a deep breath, and found that when he opened his mouth, his voice wasn't that of a young babben. It had dropped slightly, become more grown up. It took a few bars for him to grain control of it, but once he did, it was awesome.

"Don't you know, little fool, you never can win?
Why not use your mentality - step up, wake up to reality?
But each time I do just the thought of you
Makes me stop just before I begin"

"'Cause I've got you under my skin.
Yes, I've got you under my skin."

He finished his song, taking a deep breath and coughing once. The record began it's next song, one that Crooner didn't have down like the previous one. But that was ok. He was busy staring at himself in the mirror.

Sure, he was small. Sure, he was young. But Crooner knew that he could live up to the Rat Pack's reputation.

"Minus the mafia involvement." he muttered to himself.

He flared his wings, flapping them a couple of times. "I can do it." he said to himself, holding the microphone close to his heart. "I'll be the best Rat Pack singer since they were makin' tracks themselves!"