The Better Late Than Never, But Still Way Fucking Late, Story Of Mostly Purple Patty And The Gorillas From Mars

…co=starring her new pal, Alice Prunewattle

The Doclopedia #1,196

Bats, Man: Mark III Bat Armor

The Mark III Bat Armor was supposed to allow Special Forces units to fly/glide into enemy territory, then use advanced night vision, radar and other sensory enhancements to fulfill their mission. The armored suits, while surprisingly lightly and non-restrictive, would still stop a wide variety of high powered rounds while providing protection from chemical and biological agents. It also slightly augmented the strength and speed of the wearer.

Unfortunately, the armor was stolen by the man who invented it, Dr. Wayne Stark. Some months later, he embarked on a wild criminal spree of robberies, assaults and murders. This went on for 8 weeks before he was stopped by, curiously enough, a Canadian Special Forces officer wearing the Mark II Wolverine Armor.

The Terribly Late, But No Less Delightfully Wacky, Story of Mostly Purple Patty And The Fat Frog

…co-starring her pet numbat, Willy


Amnesia & Magic: Final Chapter

I’m chanting and the world starts going all blurry, sort of fuzzy on the edges. A shock wave emanates from my body, but I barely feel it and just keep going. A couple more shock waves go off and I can hear Hoover screaming “NO!”, but it sounds like we’re underwater


Now the world is pure chaos, but only for a couple of seconds before returning to a non-blurry state. I have a moment to notice that we’re all back in San Francisco and there’s a dragon flying towards Oakland, then I pass out.


So that was all six months ago, and friends, all hell broke loose thanks to little old me and that Elven book. Governments rose and fell, big business took it on the chin because now they had to pay more for magic, new intelligent and non-intelligent species appeared and, best of all, the Elves were strong & healthy again.


After I had passed out, Bill carried me into a cafe where I came to a few minutes later. Hoover followed us at the point of Dak’s knives, bitching and yelling all the way.


Once I was awake, Bill used the phone to make a long distance call, then we all went to my office to await some friends of his. Turns out those friends were Secret Service agents who informed J. Edger that he was under arrest for a wide variety of offenses before they put a black hood over his head and took him away. I’m very short on details after that, but last I heard he’d been turned into a jackrabbit and turned loose in the wilds of Texas. I guess he’s finding out how it feels to be one of the hunted.


A couple of days and several phone calls after things changed, Bill, Dak and I got on a plane for Washington, DC where we had a private meeting with FDR himself. Turns out that my crafty ex-husband had been working undercover as part of a Hoover investigation team that reported directly to Mr. Roosevelt himself. The President knew that Eddie was getting power hungry and wanted to nip it in the bud. He was both amused and concerned by how things turned out, which is pretty much the way most folks feel.


And now the world is a strange new place mixed with the strange old place, but people adapt. A sea serpent and a giant share Alcatraz Island, which is bigger, heavily forested and looks like no human ever set foot there. So far, no human has. Down south, I hear that Los Angeles is half fairy tale town, half dirty crime ridden sprawl. So, really, not that much difference.


Here in my fair city, there’s a Gnometown right by Little Italy and Chinatown. Golden Gate Park has expanded to about three times it’s original size (without displacing the buildings and roads around it) and has huge groves of giant redwoods that hold entire Elven villages. One of them is about four blocks from my house, so we see Dak and his folks fairly often.

Yeah, I said “we”. Bill took an offer to run the Western Sector of the newly reorganized FBI, with main offices right here in the City, so we figured maybe we’d give the whole marriage deal another try. Holmes and Watson and pretty much everybody else we know approve. I did have to tell my mother there would not be any grandchildren. Hell, she has nine already.


I’m going to close this up now, because Bill and I are taking a little vacation up the Oregon coast in my brand new custom built Hudson Hornet. We’re taking along a bottle of wine. With any luck, it will rain.


But Mick Allen will be back in…

The Chinatown Demon Case