Catch of The Day

   Wendy froze. She was standing waist-deep in the river when she felt something tug at her bikini bottom. At first she thought she'd backed into a stick, but there was a sudden jerk in the opposite direction. Whatever had snagged onto her suit was pulling away with enough ferocity to rip the garment off completely. Now Wendy was in something of a bind. If something alive had brushed by her, it was something she didn't want to brush against her a second time. With her lower half exposed, however, she dared not run up on shore. There was a station wagon parked by the river and the sounds of kids playing had been echoing through the woods ever since Wendy had arrived. 

   "What in the world?!!" A startled voice could be heard. Wendy ducked deeper into the water, the fish or whatever it was completely forgotten. There was a bend in the river just up ahead. From behind the foliage stood a fisherman looking quizzically at what he'd found on his line. Wendy spotted her bikini bottom dangling in front of the fisherman about the time he spotted her head and shoulders poking out of the water. Both of them blushed before he chuckled and held up the line.

   "I take it this belongs to you?" 

   "I'm actually a little relieved," Wendy admitted, "I thought I'd got the attention of a nasty fish or something."

   "Just a sec." Mr. Grandly removed the fish hook and pulled the bikini bottom from his line. The incident had left the fabric a little worse for wear. "Ummm. Miss, I think I ruined it. The straps are broken and there's a big rip on one side."

   "I can't get out of the water without it," Wendy had paddled closer, "whatever shape it's in. I'll make it work."

   "Here." Grandly kept his hand over his eyes as he tossed the bottom back to Wendy. "Sorry, lady." Wendy inspected the bottom. The straps could be tied together, she figured, although the rip would leave a good deal of her rear exposed. There wasn't that much covering provided by a Creek Bend bikini even in it's full form. Still, she had to work with what was there. Grandly kept his back turned as Wendy slipped the bottom into place and began tying off the straps on either side of her hips. This proved rather difficult, as a Creek Bend bikini was noted for how little fabric was used to make one. There was enough give, though, that Wendy was able to get the straps to hold in place until she got to her car.

   Perhaps to compensate, Wendy was wearing full shorts when she walked back along the river to find Mr. Grandly. Beyond him, Wendy could see Mrs. Grandly and two young children splashing around one of the shallow pools. Wendy smiled.

   "Thanks for returning my suit."

   "Sorry about that." Grandly narrowed his eyes and then widened them as he realized who he was speaking to. "You're Wendy Marco, aren't you?"

   "I am. And I figure we should be formally introduced now. Hi!"

   "Hi. I'm Forrest Grandly. I'm very pleased to meet you, Miss Marco. I wish it had been under different circumstances, but I should have some fun telling my friends that I went fishing and caught Wendy Marco!"

   "Just do me a favor and leave out the details."

   Grandly laughed and nodded before calling over his family to meet the actress.

Daisy Poise

Cartoon Cuties short story collection coming from InDELLible!

   Should you have missed one of the short prose stories posted here on The Cartoon Cuties Log, you'll have a chance to see them all (well, prior to "Shooting a Scene") collected into a print volume from InDELLible! Cartoon Cuties: The Short Story Collection, Volume 1 is being readied at this very moment for release following the second issue of the comic book series. This book will include all-new artwork to accompany the stories printed therein. Here's one such piece, depicting the end of "Away From Home, part 2" which will run in the book. While not the strongest image of the franchise, it is notable as the first drawing to depict a full-on kiss between the characters who stand as Creek Bend's most loving couple. For some reason, I've never shown the characters actually kissing in the comic book pages I've been drawing!

Posters for fictional cartoons

Shooting a Scene

   Minerva adjusted the very large hat she had to wear for the scene she was about to shoot. That might not sound very impressive, but Minerva didn't often wear hats due to the high position of her ears. And this hat was doozy, with a brim which seemed to stretch out for a yard, and was adorned with feathers. For a girl who didn't usually wear hats at all, this was asking a lot of her. 

   Minerva stood behind the curtain, waiting for her cue. This would be her big musical number, and standing in the wings beyond Minerva could be seen the Culver twins. Corinne and Cathy were beautiful white mousettes who would be providing back-up vocals. Their pink dresses were similar in design to Minerva's opulent violet number, but were less ornate. Minerva had to practice walking around in her dance hall dress, as she wasn't used to long, wide skirts either. A long tail like Minerva's could be difficult to manage with such garb, but this scene was a highlight of the picture and she intended to make it look as effortless as possible. Besides, however uncomfortable she felt, Minerva was a knockout. Her dress was accessorized with purple opera gloves and a little lace choker, and the deep cut of the dress beautifully accentuated her bust, neck, and her bare shoulders.

   Minerva took as deep a breath as she could as she heard her intro music. Flashing a smile, Minerva parted the curtains and stepped forward to start her song. Most of the other actors were seated in the saloon set so as to record their reaction shots, something note worthy because the studio seldom used multiple cameras in order to keep production costs down. In the crowd was a number of studio regulars, with a few townsfolk brought in to make the dance hall even fuller. Leaned against the bar was Lyle Talbot, one of the few actors brought in from outside the studio's own casting department. This was a big move toward getting annies cast in 'regular' pictures, as Minerva and the Culver twins were putting in a cameo in a straight western, and getting guest star billing.

   In the middle of Minerva's song, just as the Culver girls came prancing onto stage, Miss Mallen had to go into a fairly elaborate dance. This was largely a variation of the can-can moves one typically sees in these pictures, with the voluminous skirt being hoisted up and swayed back and forth as Minerva gyrated and danced back and forth. The Culver girls did a more traditional can-can style dance, holding each other by the shoulders and executing high kicks as they bounced back and forth. It all made for a good visual, but what really got attention was when the girls returned to their song. The assembly actually fell into stunned silence as Minerva belted out her final lines, echoed by the Culver sisters. As Minerva finished with a grand bow, the room erupted into legitimate applause. They didn't even wait for their cue. Even Mr. Talbot, cast a stern cattle baron with minimal geniality, was grinning ear to ear as he applauded.

   Somehow, Minerva had kept the hat on during the entire number, despite it being perched at an angle that allowed one of her ears to remain visible. As she stood back up, having bowed herself in the same manner as a girl meeting the Queen, her balance was challenged and she nearly fell down had the Culver girls not rushed to prop her back onto her feet. Minerva steadied herself, knocking off the hat as she did so. The audience laughed. Minerva grinned and performed a less demanding curtsy before all three girls trotted back through the part in the curtains. A few seconds later, Minerva poked her head out of the curtains and turned to director Victor Grodnick.

   "That better work, Vic! I'm not doing that again!" The crowd laughed as Vic yelled cut on the scene. Vic laughed too, before calling back.

   "It was great, Minnie! And that bit with the trip at the end was so cute I'm leaving that in, too!" 

Beverly and Jeannie

Trudy Kitten

Crissy Carrots

Away From Home, part 2

   Dr. Shallert tested Roger's eyes. He nodded approvingly, as there was no sign of brain damage.

   "Physically, you're okay," the doctor said, "the only problem seems to be your amnesia."

   "Is there a pill or something for this, Doc?"

   "No, son, the best cure for amnesia is still to let it run it's course. Everything may snap back into place in a second, once you come across a familiar smell or sound or sight, something that will re-calibrate your brain, as it were."

   "How long does this sort of thing usually last?"

   "It varies. Sometimes it's only a few minutes. It's been known to last for years in rare cases. I wouldn't worry about that, though. You're probably right about having people looking to find you. Your wife for one. If you live here in the city, it shouldn't take long to find someone who knows who you are."

   "That's assuming I'm a native."

   "Well, even if you're from out of town, your wife should know where to start looking for you."

   "I hope so. There's always the possibility I'm a creep, Doc. Maybe I was in town to be away from my wife for some reason. I saw this movie once..."

   "Yes? Go on. A memory?"

   "For a split second, I thought so. I can almost remember sitting in a theater... Or maybe I was watching television at home... Oh, I don't know, Doc."

   "Don't try so hard. Let it come back naturally."

   "These are pretty nice clothes," Roger redid his tie, "I don't know if I'm someone important, but I could be someone who's needed somewhere. If only I hadn't lost my jacket. I'm sure my wallet would clear up most of it."

   "Do you have a place to go?" Roger paused as he was putting the finishing touches on his tie. He chuckled and shook his head.

   "No. No place, no job, no identity. I have a few bucks in my pocket, though. I thought I might buy a new jacket and get a bite to eat and then figure out what to do next."

   "I have a friend who runs the diner just outside of town. If you want to keep busy while you're waiting for your memory to come back, I know he could use an extra hand. He's got a little place right in back where you could stay. I go in there most every day, so I could check up on you."

   "That's really nice of you, Doc. Thanks. I would feel better if I were doing something, I'm sure."

   By a couple hours after Ed and Misty had arrived, Crissy was getting anxious. She kept her composure in front of her friends, but she was really starting to worry. It wasn't like Roger to stay away longer than he said he would. He usually made a point of getting home early, in fact, just so Crissy wouldn't worry about him.

   "Maybe his car broke down on one of the back roads," Ed offered, "he might not be able to reach a  telephone."

   "Rog uses the main road most of the time," Crissy puffed her cigarette, "particularly if he's trying not to be late. He was looking forward to this visit."

   Crissy jumped as the telephone rang. She urgently snapped up the receiver.

   "Roger?"

   "Mrs. Ralphwit?"

   "Yes."

   "This is Sergeant Gregory with the Amsterville Police Department."

   "Is Roger okay?"

   "We don't really know, Mrs. Ralphwit. We can't find him. He's disappeared."

   "What?!!"

   "Let me try to explain it as we have it figured. Now your husband walked into a situation at the Eagle building. A man was trying to kill a woman, and your husband intervened. Now, he saved the girl, but in the process, the suspect was killed. We think it was an accidental death, but your husband may think he's responsible for it and is in hiding."

   "If you knew Roger, you'd know he'd never hide if he thought he were responsible. He would have come to you."

   "I hope you're right, Mrs. Ralphwit. He's vanished without a trace. After helping the girl, he fell off of the Eagle building and nobody has seen him since."

   "He fell off a building?!!"

   "And evidently never landed."

   "I'll be right out there, Sergeant." Crissy hung up before Sgt. Gregory could answer. "Ed, Misty, I need a ride."

   A couple days later, Roger was jerking for Dr. Shallert's friend. Rog looked rather smart in his clean white uniform, and the customers seemed to like him. Dr. Shallert stepped into the diner and waved. Roger smiled back.

   "You have a name I can call you yet?"

   "Everybody just calls me Mack," Roger swabbed down the counter where Shallert was taking his seat, "seems to work alright."

   "So no memories yet?" Shallert lit a cigarette.

   "Nothing concrete," Roger handed Doc his usual coffee, "want a sandwich?"

   "Ham on white, with cheese." Roger nodded and made for the fixings. "When you say you have nothing concrete, does that mean there's something there you're not sure about?"

   "I'm sure it's nothing," Roger handed a plate to Doc before reaching under the counter, "nothing at all." Roger produced a movie magazine with Minerva Mallen on the cover. "A customer left this in here last night. I flipped through it. There's a big article on C.B. International Pictures. I got a feeling I know these people. Minerva Mallen, Daisy Poise, Misty Carter. I thought about it, though. Anyone who goes to the movies would feel a connection to the stars they see regularly."

   "I suppose you have a point. The studio is located in Creek Bend, though. A lot of annies live in Creek Bend. It's possible that's where you're from."

   "It's possible, and it's close, I'll grant you. Nobody who's come in here seems to know who I am. I may be from Creek Bend. But I could be from any place. I'd better figure it out soon."

   Crissy walked into the Amsterville police station for what seemed the hundredth time in the last two days. Sgt. Gregory saw her coming and shook his head to let her know they still didn't have any new information. Crissy still went up to the desk.

   "I can't just sit by at the hotel doing nothing." Crissy explained. Gregory sighed. He understood, but had nothing to offer her.

   "We've given a description of your husband to all our men, from beat cops to prowl cars. Nothing."

   "He didn't just vanish."

   "Crissy, I know it doesn't seem possible, but it has happened. People have disappeared without a trace, despite our best efforts to track them down."

   "That's One Step Beyond stuff."

   "Not yet it isn't. It's only been two days. He's sure to turn up, but the more time passes the less likely it'll be Amsterville where he's found. Maybe you should go back to Creek Bend. He'd try to contact you there, wouldn't he?"

   "I'm not sure. It all depends on what's going on. He might be hurt, trapped somewhere. I know he'd contact me if he could."

   "When he fell from that flag pole, he didn't land on the street. He must've landed on top of a bus or something. But then what? He must've walked away because the morgues haven't got him."

   "Walked where? You checked all the hospital wards."

   "Private clinics, too." Gregory stroked his chin. "He isn't in a hospital bed, but he likely would have checked in if he were hurt. Even if he wasn't hurt bad, he still might've talked to a doctor. We'll ask every medico in town."

   Doc Shallert was still at the diner when this decision was made. Roger mulled over a crossword puzzle while the crowd was small. Maybe thinking of words and their meanings would help trigger something. Doc looked on, studying Roger's reactions to the test he was giving himself. Roger sighed and put down the paper.

   "It's no use, Doc. I know all the words but none of them mean anything that'll help me remember who I am."

   "We can try an actual word association test. If you knew what words you instinctively connected, it might give you a better frame of reference."

   "Okay, Doc. Fire away."

   "Blue."

   "Green."

   "Tree."

   "Limb."

   "Scarf."

   "Neck."

   "Hair."

   "Blonde."

   "Wife."

   "Love."

   "Home."

   "Heart."

   "Trip."

   "Embarkation." 

   Shallert paused.

   "Ship."

   "Sea."

   "Beach."

   "Normandy." Roger paused. "I must've been in the Army during the War. Unless that's something else I got from a movie."

   "Water."

   "Canteen."

   "Walk."

   "March."

   "Rifle."

   "Safety."

   "Refuge."

   "Wife."

   Shallert paused and mulled over what had been said so far. Roger stood by, considering what his answers might mean. It would seem he was in the military at some point, but that was all that was coming through. Still, the indication was that Roger had been in the European theater of the War. Roger tried to think of what he knew about the War, thinking maybe it would trigger a more solid memory. Shallert, meanwhile, was formulating a plan of his own.

   "Mack, I have an idea. Ask Eddie for a break. There's somewhere I think you should go."

   A bit afterward, Shallert guided Roger over to a landing craft which was on display in the city's museum. This particular craft had actually been used during the D-Day invasion, and was part of a display the museum was hosting about that pivotal moment in recent history. Looking about to make sure no guards were around to stop them, Shallert stepped under the rope which surrounded the vehicle. Roger was motioned forward as Shallert held the rope up for him. Roger stepped up to the landing craft and reached out to touch it.

   "What does it make you think of?"

   "Cold. It was June, but it was freezing in that water." Roger looked at Shallert, cracking a smile now that a memory had been pushed to the surface. Roger jumped up and climbed into the craft, coming to a stop about half way in, sidestepping just to the right. "This is where I was as we were heading in." Roger looked up to where the shore would have been. Shallert grinned.

   "Yes. Go on."

   "The waves were rough. We bounced up and down like dolls. The shelling from shore was getting louder and louder all the time. Soon, eruptions of ice water were bursting all around us. We could see the men who'd already made it through. When we first caught sight of them, they looked like ants. Now they looked like men. I gripped my rifle so hard I was afraid I'd crack the wood before I got a chance to use it. A hard hit as we got to shore. The gate went down. Fraklitt, the guy right next to me, he was shot down before he could step forward. There was no time to think. We rushed the beach. There was another explosion! Close! The landing craft behind us had been obliterated!" 

   Roger staggered. He grabbed the side of the landing craft as he went down to the deck on one knee. Everything was flooding back, and it was almost too much to process all at once. The War. Life before the War. Life after the War. Creek Bend. Germany. Roxanne. Crissy. Crissy! 

   Roger spun around and collapsed into a seated position. He was coming around, but it was a lot to take in at once. It was like losing his parents all over again, and again losing Roxanne to whatever madness had taken hold of her. He relived his own madness before Crissy had set him free. Crissy. She was the rock that held Roger together. Yes, God's Son came first, but Crissy was the most important thing in Roger's earthly life. It was the image of her that Roger focused on as his memories swirled around him like some monster whirlpool. It was the image of Crissy, curled up on her side and looking up at Roger as he was seated by her feet. She smiled and blinked her narrowed eyes at him. She was trying to look sexy as she did this, but her child-like innocence was showing through.

   Shallert stood by. He knew Roger needed time to re-orient himself. By now, the museum guards were moving in, but Shallert held up his hand as if to ask for a moment of peace. Unsure of why they complied, the two security men held back. Roger finally stood up. He spoke as much to himself as he did to Shallert.

   "My name is Roger Ralphwit. I'm from Creek Bend, California. I live there with my wife, Crissy." Roger jumped over the side of the craft and onto the marble flooring. He looked over to see the two guards standing by. "Believe it or not, fellas, this DOES make sense."  His memory restored, Roger asked Shallert to drive him to the police station. He was sure the authorities would have questions about the incident at the Eagle building.

   Crissy sat in the lobby of the police station. She was completely without ideas as she slumped forward and stared at her feet. She closed her eyes to pray. "Father. I feel so lost. I need your help. Let me know my Roger is alright. Let me know he's..." Crissy gulped. Then she sensed something and her eyes popped open.

   "Crissy!" Roger called as he stepped through the main doors and caught sight of her. Shallert looked on as Roger darted toward his wife. She shot from her seat and leaped into Roger's arms. They squeezed each other so tightly that Crissy let out a little yelp of pain. Roger eased up but Crissy remained where she was, clinging to Roger with her face buried in his chest. She had not only her arms but also her legs wrapped around him, hanging on him like a tree frog. Roger stroked her hair before pulling her face toward his and kissing her all over.

   Gregory looked on with a smile nearly as big as the one being worn by Dr. Shallert. Roger looked up just long enough to tell the desk Sergeant that he'd be along in a minute. Gregory could wait. Roger held Crissy up above him, hugging her waist against his chest. Crissy held Roger's cheeks as she kissed him deeply. No movie scene, with all it's orchestral background and soft lighting, could ever top this romantic moment.   

Away From Home, part 1

   Crissy stepped inside the house, her feet still wet from having hosed them off outside the door. If there were any drawbacks to the lagoon being only feet away, it was that she had to wash the mud off her feet before tracking across her nice clean floor. Crissy bent over to brush some lint off her foot, unaware that Roger had stepped into the room. Maybe it was a left-over from his days as a spy, but Roger moved rather silently for such a big guy. He smiled as he observed his wife standing there in her little bathing suit. Given the privacy the area afforded, he often wondered why she even bothered with the suit. 

   Roger reached down and skittered his fingertips along her bare back. Crissy let out a yelp as she jumped, but she quickly pieced together what was going on and had a smile on her face before she'd even turned to face him.

   "Very funny." She noticed he was in his brown suit. "Are we going out?"

   "I have to go over to Amsterville to meet with a buyer. I don't usually handle orders myself, but since this one is so close I thought I'd take care of it. It'll only be a quick trip, we have Ed and Misty coming over tonight, remember?"

   "Oh yes, I forgot that was tonight. When will we be back?"

   "Should be about six."

   "That'll be about the time the Carters arrive. One of us has to be here to meet them."

   "I know, but I didn't want to be the one to make the point. If it was your idea, you couldn't accuse me of trying to sneak off without you."

   "I don't think I have to worry about that," Crissy smiled again as she wrapped her arms around his neck, "not when I make sure you're happiest when you're home." Roger smiled and stroked his finger along her chin.

   "You spoil me, Cris. I'm not about to complain about it, though. I dislike these moments when I have to leave your side, even for a few hours like now."

   "Do you have to leave right away?"

   "Yeah. I would have told you sooner, but I only got the call about ten minutes ago. You were underwater at the time, so I figured I'd better not waste time and go ahead and get ready."

   Crissy turned her head to press her cheek against his chest as she squeezed him. You'd think he were shipping off to Europe. "Hurry back." Roger pulled free of her embrace and picked her up so they were eye to eye. She smiled. He smiled.

   "I wish I had a few more minutes. But I gotta go." Roger kissed his wife and then sat her down on the table before he shuffled out the door. Crissy watched him go, sighing to herself as she dangled her feet over the tabletop. A team of plastic surgeons couldn't remove the smile from her face.

   Roger toted his briefcase out of the elevator as he reached the third floor of the Eagle building in Amsterville's downtown section. He entered the hallway to feel a fresh breeze wafting in from one of the open windows. At first it felt pleasant enough. Then he heard a scream.

   Across from the stairwell, a man was pushing a young woman through the window. Without hesitation, Roger dropped his briefcase and rushed forward. The man saw him coming and spun around to point a gun at him. Roger paused, but kept his attention at the girl in the window. She hadn't fallen. From what Roger could make out, she'd grabbed onto the flag pole and was hanging on despite the man's best efforts to make her drop.

   "I don't know what's going on here," Roger held up his hands at the gunman's prompting, "but I can't think of a good reason why you'd be trying to drop that young lady out that window."

   "You mind your own business, Buster. Or I'll make you part of my business."

   "He's a killer!" The woman screamed. "He tried to rob our office and then shot my uncle when he fought back!" Roger eyed the gun as it was thrust forward to confirm the lady's point. The girl screamed as she started to slip. She was able to regain her hold, but the distraction was enough to turn the killer's attention away from Roger. Roger swept in and chopped the gun away. The killer took a swing. Roger ducked the first one, but the next connected. An uppercut pushed the killer back, letting Roger follow up with a right cross which forced the killer into the wall. He slid down the wall like a heap of wet laundry, allowing Roger to turn his attention back to the girl hanging onto the flagpole.

   "Are you alright?"

   "So far, yes." She had shown some good form, grabbing onto the pole as she had been pushed forward, and then wrapping her legs around the pole to keep herself steady. She was facing the window. Roger held out his hand, but she was too far out. 

   "Stay clam. I'll have to come out there." Roger removed his jacket and tossed it aside, then raised a leg to place his foot on the windowsill. His opponent hadn't been fully dealt with, however, and Roger found himself being pulled back into the hallway. Roger used a combination of rudimentary judo and wide swings to beat his enemy back, but the thug held his own pretty well. Going for a knockout blow, the man swung his arm over Roger. Roger was able to duck and grab the arm in such a way as to make use of his momentum. Roger meant only to flip his opponent onto the floor, but their fight had moved them close to the stairwell.

   The man came crashing down onto the banister which blocked passersby from the gaping space looking down the middle of the stairwell. This loosened the structure, but the man held on as he made another move toward Roger. Ultimately, the guy slipped and lost his footing. He grabbed at the railing to steady himself, but it gave way and he tumbled down the shaft. Roger rushed over and looked down. The guy was laid out on the lobby floor. 

    Roger climbed out onto the ledge as the girl continued to hang helplessly to the flagpole.

   "I can't hold on!" The girl slipped, her legs now dangling free. She'd managed to hang onto the pole, however. Her screams made it clear she wasn't going to be able to hold on for long. Roger crouched and prepared to grab onto the pole. He held out a hand to calm the girl. 

   "I'm gonna crawl out there and take your hand. Whatever you do, don't panic when I reach you or we'll both fall off. You just calmly grab onto my arm, and then you use me to climb back up here and into the window. Got it?"

   "Yeah! Calm!" She wasn't entirely convincing, but she stopped screaming so she was indeed trying to stay calm. Roger took a breath and wrapped his arms around the pole, then laid down on top of it and used his legs to push himself out toward the girl. When he got out as far as he could, he reached out a hand for the girl to take. She managed to hold her composure as she took his arm and began to pull herself up onto his back. Her clutches were so tight that they betrayed her fear, but she was getting better as she got closer to the ledge. She was finally standing on the windowsill, her hands gripping firmly the facade.

   "I made it. I'm safe."

   "Okay." Roger wasn't quite sure how to get back to the ledge. He'd pushed himself beyond a position where his legs could be used to pull him back. Maybe he could push himself back with his arms. 

   There was a sudden sound of creaking metal. The girl's eyes bugged. So did Roger's. The pole collapsed and Roger went sliding forward. The pole didn't pull loose from the building, but it was now drooping over the street. Roger had managed to grab the sphere at the pole's tip, but he was hanging on only by his hands. His feet dangled in the air. He kicked out toward the ledge, but from too far out to make his motions effective.

   "I'll, I'll get help!" The girl darted inside the building, though there was little hope that she'd return before Roger lost his grip. She gathered up the cords from the window shades in the hallway. She had a pretty good idea, but another burst of wrenching metal sounded before she could return to the window. Roger dropped.

   A truck driving along managed to be in just the right spot to prevent Roger from landing hard on the pavement. Instead, he crashed through a canvas tarp and into a collection of old appliances. Very hard appliances. Cast iron stoves and the like. The drivers heard the noise, but weren't sure what caused it. They turned the truck into the alley ahead so they could inspect their vehicle. They turned the corner just as the girl Roger had saved came running into the street. She never saw Roger again, but she knew she owed him her life. She had her uncle to worry about, too. He'd been shot, but might still be alive. She rushed off to find a policeman.

   Tom and Bill were surprised to see Roger spread out in the collection of appliances they were hauling. Fortunately, he was still alive. He was in pain, though. Roger grimaced as he sat up and rubbed the back of his head.

   "Are you okay, Mack?" Tom asked.

   "Anything broken?" Bill added.

   "I don't think so," Roger groaned, "no broken bones, just a doozy of a knot on the back of my head."

   "How'd you get here?" Bill asked. Roger paused.

   "I'm not sure. I don't think I remember."

   "What's your name?" Tom reached out and steadied Roger by the shoulder. Roger shook his head.

   "For the life of me I can't remember. I must have amnesia. Did I fall off a building or something?"

   "That's the only way we figure you could've gotten into our truck the way you did." Bill pointed to the hole in the roof.

   "I'll replace the canvas," Roger offered as he was helped onto the pavement, "but I'm pretty sure your stoves are fine."

   "We were about to replace it anyway," Tom offered, "don't worry about it. You've got bigger problems if you can't remember who you are. What about your wallet?"

   "Yeah!" Roger felt around and then dug into his pockets. "No wallet. A handkerchief, no monogram. Some cash. That'll be handy, I'm sure. I must've kept my wallet in my jacket. Wherever it is."

   "You have anything else on you?"

   "Uhhh, let's see. A comb in my back pocket. Up here in my shirt is a lighter and a pack of cigarettes. Kinda surprised those are still in place."

   "Maybe there's a monogram on the lighter?"

   "No. It's nice, but it's not engraved. Whoever I am, I must be well off. Silk shirt, alligator shoes, this lighter." Roger caught sight of his wedding ring. "I'm married. I gotta find out who I am. There's a girl out there who doesn't know what happened to me!"

   "Assuming she isn't the one who pushed you out the window." Bill quipped. Tom waved his hand, telling Bill to knock it off.

   "We know a doctor, pal. We'll take you to see him. If anyone can help, it'll be Doc Shallert." Roger nodded as he was walked around to the passenger door. He paused when he saw his reflection in the rear view. Tom and Bill looked on as Roger struggled to remember something. Anything.

   "I don't know my own face. I have no idea who I am. I'm a man. I'm an annie. I'm married." Roger looked at his ring again. "I wonder who she is. I wonder if she's okay...." 

   Back home, Crissy suddenly felt very strange. It felt like a prompting from the Holy Spirit, telling her to pray for Roger. She had no idea what the matter was, but she stopped sweeping the floor and looked to the clock. Roger should just now be at his meeting. Crissy started praying over her husband. She didn't know what for, but she spoke protection over him. Miles away, Roger felt a comforting fall over him. He still didn't know who he was, but he knew he was going to be okay.

   The girl he'd rescued was going to be okay, too. Her uncle had been wounded, but not mortally so. He'd be up and around in a few days. The girl had no clue who her rescuer was or where he'd gone. The police investigating the scene did find Roger's jacket and briefcase, however. They would be searching for this heroic and self-sacrificing individual. He had stepped into the situation and as result had saved two lives. 

   After which he seemed to've simply vanished from the face of the earth...

TO BE CONTINUED 

Wendy Marco

Missy Mouse

Misty Carter

     One of the first annie starlets to become a producer as well as an actress, Misty Curbshell was born to Los Angeles high society and dabbled in stage performances when one of her friends was backing a play. Before opening night, the girl hired to play the part of a ditzy maid in “The Millionaire’s Party” was unable to appear. Misty stepped in and played the part as a favor, her part being almost entirely ad-libbed due to lack of prep time. She found she enjoyed acting and eventually made her way into motion pictures before meeting her husband Ed Carter. Misty Carter moved to Creek Bend when invited to join the studio’s glamor stable. Though she enjoyed success as an actress, Misty found her most enjoyment came from producing features for the studio. She produced her first feature, THE BALLAD OF SERGEANT HOLDEN, as a favor to a friend, and discovered that she had a knack for it. Today, Ed and Misty live in the suburb area outside the studio gates.

Beverly and Jeannie

Crissy Carrots

   Crissy Arlene Carrots was born on the outskirts of Creek Bend shortly before the War. Though her early years were spent in rural isolation, her family eventually moved into the heart of town. There, Crissy worked as an assistant for her father's legal office, her cousin's newspaper service, and her uncle's jewelry store. Although Crissy did well in town, her heart belonged to the wide open spaces and rural privacy. Saving up, she built her dream house in 1956. This unique dwelling was built under the base of a large tree and even has a grass lawn covering the entire structure, and the river runs right alongside with a swimming hole mere feet from the back door. It was while splashing around in this swimming hole that Crissy caught the sight of Roger Ralphwit, who fell madly in love with the young bunny. The two were eventually married and remain known as Creek Bend's most passionate couple. Roger was heir to the Wydmark Rifle Company, and must leave town once a month to check in on his business. These periodic separations only serve to remind Crissy how much more she likes her isolation when she has someone special to share it with.

Wendy's Wild Ride

   Wendy Marco held up two pieces of fabric, one a yellow color, the other pink. She was trying to figure which best complimented her face. Steve was about to do another photoshoot, and he always worked in color. Wendy had to be sure which color would suit her best, but the decision was coming more difficultly than it needed to. Wendy turned and smiled as she saw Trixie step into the room and make for a changing booth. It looked like Trixie was going to be wearing blue today. Trixie returned Wendy's greeting and noticed what she was doing. Trixie paused and looked at Wendy's reflection.

   "Pink is your color, Wendy. Of course, pink is the color most us around here wear best. Better go with the yellow. Trudy is wearing pink, and Dixie is in red."

   "Thanks, Trix!" Trixie nodded with a smile as she turned back to the changing booth. Wendy held up the yellow top and nodded with approval. This would work just fine, although if anyone wore yellow well it was Trixie. She looked good in any color, really.

   Trixie Hope was a very pretty girl, though she would have blended into the background at most movie studios. She worked with annies frequently, however, which often made her stand out in whatever crowd she found herself in. Although she was an actress of considerable star-power on her own, it was the teaming of Trixie Hope with annie Dixie North for a string of two-reelers which gave Trix her most visibility with the public these days. Though she was never described as such, many in the public saw her as the studio's token 'regular' girl in C.B.I.P.'s stable of "femanimal" starlets. (Before really getting to know the annie girls, the Boss had already coined the label "femanimal" to describe them for publicity purposes.  In the years since, the "femanimal" term had stuck, despite the Boss coming to wish he'd never invented the descriptive for the wrong impression it presents.) Trixie had sort of been accepted into the fold for her constant presence, the unofficial annie starlet.

   Trixie parted the curtain and stepped in front of the mirror to check herself. She certainly wore a Creek Bend bikini well, and blue was very complimentary to her form. In a moment, Wendy stepped into view in her yellow bikini. Trixie shot up an "okay" sign and Wendy smiled as she took a look into the changing room mirror. Wendy had to stop and consider Trixie's partner Dixie. There was a girl with cat features, red hair which included a huge tail, and yellow skin which rather closely matched the tiny patches of fabric which were now encasing Wendy's body. Wendy shook her head.

   "I don't know how Dixie does it."

   "Does what?"

   "Coordinates her wardrobe colors. Must add a challenge to it when you have skin the color of a school bus." Every now and then an annie would be born with a pretty wild coloring. Most were regular flesh tones, a great many of them were paper white, and you had a few shades in between. Every now and then, though, you'd run across a girl with skin that was pink or yellow or even sort of orange in color. Some men with bird features could even be green or blue on occasion! For an annie, this could make color coordination a factor to consider even in finding a spouse (or such was the case according to a popular joke that had been going around for years now). At the least, this sort of shading could make it interesting for a girl to dress herself in the right way. Imagine the typical cares a girl has about lighting conditions, then add the skin of a cartoon character to the mix...

   "She wears a lot of whites and blacks," Trixie noted, "I guess those are the safest choices in her case." Trixie hadn't really thought about it before, but Wendy raised a point regarding Dixie's challenge when it came to wearing colored fabrics. It was a challenge Trixie had been spared by not being an annie. Of course, Wendy didn't have that problem either. Only a few annies really did. Must they feel they got the short end of the stick, so to speak, or do they just feel more unique and thus more valued?

   In Steve's studio, Dixie checked her lipstick as Trudy looked over some notes Steve had written up for today's shoot. As Wendy and Trixie stepped into the room, Steve readied his camera. He planned to snap off a few candids before the girls got down to business. Candid shots offered a freshness which was more difficult to achieve when his models were posed. He got a good shot of Trixie and Dixie discussing hairstyles. Dixie's hair had to accommodate not only the shape of her head, but also her cat-like ears. Trixie almost always wore pigtails to offer a more cutsie, child-like appearance. She'd been wearing her hair like that since childhood, in fact, but still had the youthful features to pull it off.

   Wendy wore her hair pretty loose, aside from the styled curls of her bangs (though she often wore her hair pulled back into a ponytail if she were at all active). Trudy kept her hair cut short due to her own cat ears, but her overall look was balanced by her long feline tail. Each girl had their own distinct appearance, making this grouping an interesting selection for a group photoshoot. The purpose of this shoot was as much to promote the studio's newest expensive prop, said item being a futuristic car with a bubble dome canopy, built for a science fiction picture. The girls were herded outside to the parking lot where the car was waiting. There, Steve got off a few more candid shots as the girls inspected the car they were going to be huddled around for the next hour or so.

   Within a few minutes, Steve could have called the job completed, as he'd already gotten plenty of material before even getting to the posed pictures he'd planned out. By now, Wendy was sitting in the driver's seat. The car had been built over the chassis of an old roadster, but there was little evidence of this origin as the prop had been built so complete as to allow the movie camera to get in close. It was a beautiful design, with lines akin to a Corvette. It looked like a combination of a space ship and a miniature submarine. Wendy scanned the dashboard's numerous dials and switches, wondering which were functional and which were only window dressing. The builder of the car was supposed to be on scene for the shoot, but he'd been delayed -by car trouble of all things.

   "This thing is beautiful," Trudy patted the hood, "do you think cars will ever really look like this?"

   "Some already do," Trixie offered, "at least those dream cars they build for auto shows. A pity those never seem to make it into production."

   "Yeah..." Wendy sighed, "there was this powder blue number from Pontiac I think, had a fin out the back and twin windshields that looked like they came from fighter jet cockpits. I wanted that car."

   "I guess their time hasn't come yet," Dixie ran her hand along one of the curves of the chrome trim, "I wonder if any of us will be around when it does. Annies don't age, but they don't live forever."

   "They live a good while," Wendy palmed the steering wheel, "you might make it, Dix. These things may come to us sooner than we think, too."

   Wendy began to climb out of the car to let the next girl try the driver's seat, but in doing so her foot clipped the dash and activated the control for the giant clear bubble dome. Wendy yelped as she pulled her hands back into the vehicle to avoid the dome as it snapped down over the cockpit. She blushed as the other girls giggled. The mood was light until Wendy reached for the same control to raise the dome back into it's open position. Wendy accidentally flipped the wrong switch, causing the car to roar to life. Her eyes popped wide at this mistake and she reached to shut the car back down. What she didn't realize was that her foot was over the gas pedal, and that her weight was placed on her foot as she shifted her body.

   Providently, none of the other girls were standing in front of the car as it took off like a sling shot. Wendy was so surprised that all she could think to do was grab the steering wheel and do what she could to prevent hitting anything. The other girls were left in a cloud of smoke as the car shot away. Steve ran to telephone the gate. Wendy was headed in that direction. Along the way, Wendy had to hold the car steady as it roared between stages and through lots. An elephant brought in to make a jungle picture was so startled by the vehicle that it reared and made ready to charge. It's handlers managed to get the beast under control, but in the time it took to do so Wendy had already sped through several more outdoor sets. She zipped through a Western town where the combatants of a gun battle came to stunned silence when the bubble car blazed by. On another outdoor set, a string of harem girls parted like the Red Sea. 

   It was all happening so fast that Wendy could only concentrate on not hitting anybody. Whenever she tried to slow the car, it became harder to control and threatened to plow into the side of a building. Wendy gulped as she realized that she had to keep the car at top speed until she was in an area open enough to allow for her to come to a stop without running into anyone. The main gate was opened just in time for Wendy to go roaring through and onto the main street of the suburb area directly outside the gates. Wendy tried to slow down again, now that she was on a wider street, but even this area was too crowded for her to risk doing any damage. She'd have to race through town to the more open areas beyond.

   The town square was taken aback as the futuristic vehicle made the scene, looking like the vanguard of a Martian invasion. The car roared along main street toward the town's outskirts. Although Creek Bend was a small town by any measure, it suddenly seemed like the population of Creek Bend was at least triple what the welcome sign indicated. Wendy wondered if she'd run out of gas before the car got to an area where it was safe enough to slow down. Fortunately, the car could turn on a dime, and Wendy was able to avoid plowing into the fence running along Blake road. Wendy was looking for a pasture where there would be plenty of room. 

   Far behind her was a growing number of cars racing after her. Trixie and the other girls were in the lead car, with Steve directly behind in his own car. A few more cars from the studio followed, joined by the Sheriff, the fire chief, the newspaper editor, and a growing number of curious farmers, store owners, and townsfolk.

   Wendy finally came to the opening to Haskell's cow pasture. The car was turned and sped along one of the few flat stretches of land to be found in the area. Finally, Wendy could power down and let the car drift back and forth as it finally wobbled to a stop. Wendy still didn't know which switch shut off the engine, however. Cautiously, she reached over and touched the switch she was fairly certain was the canopy control. Wendy sighed as the dome raised and pulled back. She jumped out of the car and staggered a bit as she made sure the car was absolutely still. She dared not put on the emergency brake, for fear of not knowing which device WAS the emergency brake. The car was just going to have to sit here until someone who knew how could come and drive it back to the studio at normal speed. Or tow it back, as the car was finally beginning to sputter from limited fuel reserves. 

   When the car finally pooped out, Wendy turned to see the others approaching. Trixie pulled to a stop and the girls pilled out of her car to surround Wendy. Wendy was alright, but she had been so tense during the episode that she nearly collapsed when Dixie and Trudy put their hands on her back to support her. Steve was on scene a second later. He hadn't even had time to think about his camera, which he'd tossed into the seat next to him. He knew his business, though, and immediately grabbed the device to snap off a few more candids as Wendy regained her composure. This rural background offered some much more interesting visuals than the bare lot back at the studio did. They'd have to finish the shoot out here anyway, with the car having run dry.

   Soon enough, what seemed to be the rest of the town had arrived on scene. Steve had to convince the Sheriff that what had just happened wasn't a publicity stunt. Once the matter had been settled and the assembly calmed down, there was a great deal of interest in the futuristic car which had caused the whole thing. The starlets, even in their Creek Bend bikinis, were almost completely un-noticed.

   "Are you sure you're okay, Wendy?" Trixie asked.

   "I'm fine now. I'll tell you this, though, I'm not as upset over not having that dream car anymore."

   "What now?" Trudy asked of her peers.

   "The car will probably star in it's own picture after this." Dixie crossed her arms as she looked on at the crowd of farmers and townsfolk huddled about the car, she and her friends completely ignored.   

Poolside Pow-Wow

   Crissy was turned about in her chair, resting on her crossed arms as she looked on with an expression of supreme contentment. As she had habit to do, she was biting her lip as she smiled. The object of her gaze was her husband Roger, as he helped Ed Carter man the barbecue. This scene was out back of the Carter home, near the gigantic swimming pool. Misty Carter was seated at her patio table across from Mrs. Ralphwit, both girls clad in their Creek Bend bikinis. Similarly, the men were dressed for swimming, although Ed had put back on a short-sleeved shirt. 

   Misty giggled to herself as she observed Crissy's naked appreciation of Roger. Not that she couldn't understand Crissy's attitude, as Roger was a fine specimen of masculinity. Technically, the Ralphwits were still newlyweds, and Crissy's posture betrayed that. It was also true, however, that in the short time of their marriage, Roger and Crissy had developed a mature relationship which had the pair thought of as pillars of the community. Still, for all the respect afforded them for their maturity and stability, it was their romance which really defined them. They were unofficially known as Creek Bend's most loving couple.

   Misty took another look at Roger as she puffed her cigarette. He was actually quite different from the man she had been introduced to a few months earlier. When Misty first met Rog, he was a slender man who carried a youthful look which gave no indication of his background as a career Army man. He was meek, and in fact even a little nondescript beyond his warmth toward the girl he planned to marry. Crissy had done him a lot of good. Almost immediately after the wedding, Roger had developed into a confident, even commanding force. He seemed taller, maybe for his carrying himself with a more confident posture after he'd married Crissy. He was physically bigger, too, his chest and shoulders having become more defined. He was coming close to matching Ed's own Herculean physique, in fact.

   Misty took another puff before she leaned forward and snuffed out her cig. As she did so, she turned her attention back to Crissy.

   "Roger looks a lot different than he did before you were married." Crissy turned around and tilted her head.

   "How do you mean?"

   "He used to be skinny. They say married life packs on the pounds, but that isn't usually muscle they mean. He's got muscles most men would envy, and in so short a time. You've really been putting him through his paces."

   "Well," Crissy admitted with a smile, "we can probably take credit for some of that, he's looking like he did in his Army days again, but I think there's more to it than that." Crissy got reflective. "I think whatever has the wolves going crazy also affects them physically. Roger'd dropped a lot of weight since he came back to Creek Bend, and it seemed to coincide with the psychological changes he was experiencing. Once he broke free, though, he's been returning to his former self."

   "Just how powerful is he?"

   "He can bounce me in his arms like I was baby," Crissy giggled, "but then I am pretty small. I told you about the bull he wrestled to the ground when it got loose at the market."

   "Must make things interesting, his being so much larger than you are. Has he had to make much adjustment living in that little house of yours?"

   "Oh, he has to duck when he goes through the doorways, but not as much as you might think. Fortunately, the ceilings were already pretty high. I suppose one of these days we should really move into a house built more for his dimensions. I doubt we'll ever find as nice a plot of land, though."

   "This area has a lot of nice places that are tucked out of the way. If I hear of any good locations similar to your place, I'll be sure to let you know."

   "Thanks, Misty." Crissy glanced back at Roger and sighed with delight. Misty giggled again as she took a sip from her drink. Misty mulled things over.

   "I wonder just what IS going on around here. It's not just the wolves. When you first came to me with your concerns about Roger asking you for a date, even I was thinking of annies in terms of predators and prey. I never used to do that. I can only remember my thoughts being that way for a few years."

   "Whatever it is," Crissy turned back to Misty, "not everyone is subject to it. I know I was, though. I remember becoming very timid and fearful, but all that passed once I got to know Roger. There seems to be a cure for it, whatever it is."

   "Maybe the cure is love, plain and simple. Roger snapped out of it just by falling in love with you when he first saw you. You came around when you let yourself fall fully in love with him after he got his teeth fixed. Whatever the cause is, the cure seems to be simple and immediate."

   "I've thought about it from time to time. It only seems to be annies who have been effected. I don't know if it has something to do with being an annie, or if it's more a matter of location. I haven't heard about it happening anywhere else."

   "Something in the water? Radiation, something like that?"

   "This land has been surveyed a lot. Even the guys from Pacific Tech have gone over it a few times. Nothing unusual has ever been found in the water or the soil or anything. It's a complete mystery."

   "Well, all mysteries are figured out eventually, be the cause physical or spiritual. I can't say how long this situation is going to last, but it'll be cleared up in time." Crissy nodded. 

   "Just about ready, girls!" Ed called. Both girls stood and walked toward their men. They were quite a stunning sight. Misty's form was lightly covered by a small black bikini. Crissy's uniform was a vibrant pink with tiny white polka dots and frilly trim. The Creek Bend Bikini Company could be proud of their work and how well it was worn by these two specimens of feminine beauty. Following a meal of hamburger sandwiches, the girls were content to lounge in the sun as the men occupied the patio chairs the girls had been using earlier. Ed offered a cigarette to Roger as he lit one for himself. Both men looked at their wives appreciatively.

   "We should do this more often," Ed sat the lighter back on the table, "it beats the formal affairs Misty and I are always attending."

   "Our place next time?" Roger offered. Ed nodded approvingly.

   "You've got a beautiful place out there."

   "Yours is pretty spectacular. Quite a bit different from ours. As much as Crissy likes your swimming pool, though, I think her heart belongs to that lagoon in the back yard."

   "I don't blame her for that. You guys have all the benefits of living on a deserted island with none of the drawbacks."

   "I'm blessed, Ed. I can't deny it."

   "Misty mentioned your story might make a good movie. I've heard others at the studio say the same thing."

   "I can't see it, Ed. Maybe because I've lived it. Most of what I saw after the War is classified anyway. Returning to Creek Bend brought on a period of my life I'd rather not reflect on. And meeting Crissy, well, that means more to me than it would to anyone else."

   "When you put it all together, you've got a good story, though. Have you ever considered writing a book?"

   "I don't know who'd want to read it. And like I said, my Army Intelligence days would be completely off the record."

   "I don't mean your spy activities. You don't have to go into any of that. Your personal story, though. What you went through after coming back home, how it all changed when you met Cris. You might be able to offer a perspective that could help people."

   "How?"

   "We all know there's something strange going on with the annies around here, particularly the wolves packing on the outskirts of the territory. You might have some inside angle on it that could make sense of it all. Maybe if we could figure it out, we could stop it."

   "I've mulled it over a hundred times, Ed. If there's something concrete that my perspective offers, even I haven't seen it yet."

   "Sometimes it helps to write things down."

   "I'll give it some thought. I guess a book from the perspective of someone who escaped whatever it is might offer something to someone. I don't know when I'd get to it, though." Roger stretched and eased deeper into the chair. "I've already got a whole lot of nothing on my plate. And honestly, I like it."

   "You've earned it for sure."

   "Not all of it." Roger eyed Crissy as she turned over, so close to letting herself fall asleep in the warm sunlight that blanketed her. "Some things a man could never earn. I'm blessed, Ed. That's all there is to it."

Beverly Baxter

Ink sheet for a future issue

Cartoon Cuties Q and A

   I considered not having a post for today out of respect, but it's true that the events of this day served to bring us together. In light of that, here's something new. I thought it might be fun to host a Question And Answer session with our regular readers. If you have any questions regarding the comic book or it's characters, by all means leave a comment and I'll do my best to answer any questions within reason or that don't spoil major developments in future issues (although issue 2 is near print, I've already drawn materials up to issue 14 or so). Obviously, I can't say yet what kind of feedback this experiment will offer, but the idea sounds like it could be a fun one. If there's something you'd like to see explored in future prose stories, this would be a good time to throw in your ideas and interests. I hope you'll participate. Thanks to all who have welcomed us into your entertainment lives!

Obviously, I reserve the right not to post any questions I determine to be inappropriate or too silly. 

Simone Grace

Colors/letters by Jim Ludwig, for issue 2

   Simone Grace is KLOR-10's annie weather girl. Her long-term plans involve becoming one of C.B.I.P.'s annie glamor stars. Simone began entering beauty contests at an early age, and has several crowns to her name. She sought employment at KLOR as an actress in some of the locally-produced programming, but lacked the acting talent to hold a regular spot beyond a kiddie program called Mr. Sam's Treehouse, where she would pop in to help introduce cartoons and help with craft projects followed along by the kids at home. Her biggest chance came as the Princess of Venus in an episode of Space Avenger Ace Rocket, though her part was limited to being a briefly-seen kidnap victim who spent the majority of her scenes pretending to be in a trance. Her lasting fame at the station came when she was asked to fill in for KLOR's weather girl when the former holder of the slot left to get married. Simone has held the position for a few years, just waiting to be noticed by C.B.I.P. talent scouts.

Screen Secrets, part 4

   Beverly Baxter crossed her arms and scowled at the men tied to the chairs facing the Boss's desk. The line of girls next to her were feeling more confident after the Boss had intimated to the bad guys that the last thing they should have done was to mess with what amounted to his extended family. Ed cracked his knuckles to further intimidate the two blackmailers. Crewcut remained oddly calm, though Les was beginning to squirm.

   "You don't know the laws of your country very well," Crewcut lectured, "you can't touch us." Crewcut put on a brave face, but there was a slip in his voice which betrayed a growing nervousness. The Boss smiled before walking over to the door and calling Sally. He rattled off some instructions to his secretary and the pretty little blonde took off. He turned back to the room and rested his fists on his hips.

   "We know you're part of a larger ring. Suppose you tell us how many? What exactly is going to happen and when?"

   "I can't tell you anything, Boss!" Les blurted. "He's going to hurt Katy if I do!"

   "Where is your sister?" Ed asked.

   "I don't know," Les insisted, "he's got her hid somewhere. If I don't play ball..."

   "Kidnapping on top of everything else?" Henry shook his head. "You must have the biggest chip in the world on your shoulder, Crewcut."

   "I haven't harmed her. She's safe. She'll remain safe as long as Sutter cooperates with us."

   "Who's 'us' anyway?" Roger took a step forward. "Who are you? Who are you working with. Or should I ask who for?"

   "I'm not telling you anything. There's nothing you can do to us."

   "Get down off your high horse," Roger crouched next to Crewcut to face him, "you might be a red, but you're no spy. Not a real one. Your work is far too sloppy. That tells me that you're not the mastermind here. You're just spouting lines fed you by a real spy. I'm guessing you concocted this whole episode to get in good with the enemy. But I have a feeling you're not in with the crowd yet. How many are you?"

   Crewcut kept defiantly silent. Sally returned to the office with a bundle of cords under her arm and a small blackboard. Les looked on in confusion. Steve and Henry were handed the cords and instructed to tie the two men to their chairs. Soon, Crewcut and Les were strapped down with their arms wrapped behind the chair backs.

   "What are you doing?" Les was in near panic. The Boss knelt down between the pair.

   "Crewcut delights in telling us we can't do anything to you. And we're not really going to do anything to you. Still, we need some answers and you're going to provide them. Show 'em your claws, Ed."

   Ed smiled and extended his fingers before shaping his hands into talon-like claws. Ed had sharp fingernails like Roger once had, and they indeed looked pretty dangerous from Les's point of view.

   "You said you weren't going to do anything to us!" Les protested.

   "We're not, really." The Boss handed the blackboard to Ed. "Have some fun, Ed. Everybody else cover your ears."

   Ed scratched the blackboard, filling the room with a harsh whine that set teeth on edge. Even Crewcut had to squirm as the the board was raked. Ed kept at it. Yes, it was comically simple, but it seemed to be effective. Les begged for Ed to stop. Crewcut held out longer, but grit his teeth as the sounds became more and more unnerving. Crissy held her hands tightly over her ears. She wondered how a mousette like Daisy could even stay in the room, despite having grabbed and handkerchief and a scarf and stuffing them into her ears. Les was on the verge of tears as he begged Crewcut to cooperate. Ed leaned in and scratched at the board in such a way as to send the annoying noise directly into Crewcut's ears. 

   "Alright! Alright!" Crewcut yelled. "I'll tell you the whole thing, but stop doing that!" Ed relaxed, but he held a claw at the ready if Crewcut needed further encouragement. The procedure was more physically taxing than it probably sounds. Crewcut had to take a few breaths to reorient himself.

   "Well?" Minerva scowled.

   "You're right," Crewcut began, "I'm not working for the reds, but I have a chance to get in good with them if I can deface C.B.I.P. and it's stars. This studio is seen by many as symbolic of America. A lot of leftist powers would like to see you taken down a notch. Katy Sutter has sympathies. Most of this was her idea."

   "My sister isn't a communist!" Les insisted.

   "No," Crewcut confirmed, "but she's easily swayed. It didn't take much to convince her that your movie stars are all unfairly privileged. Getting her to play along was easy, because she's in love with Scott Karble. He's the third member of our group, the assistant publisher at Headliner. Headliner produces subversive tracts among other things. Scott told me about the idea of targeting C.B.I.P., and what Katy's brother did for the studio. We concocted the scheme."

   "Katy is behind this?" Les was crushed. He turned to face the girls, unable to make eye contact with any of them. "I'm so sorry. I thought Katy was being held prisoner and I had to play along to keep her safe. I'll tell you everything. We have photos taken in private at the Carter and Chestnut homes. Along with all the other materials you know about, they're in three packages ready to be sent out if the right telephone call is made."

   "Where are the packages now?" Henry asked.

   "Karble has them. He's got them waiting somewhere, to make a call if he sees you approaching the Headliner office. If Katy's involved, she's probably keeping an eye on the packages, but I don't know where."

   "What about this number?" Beverly opened one of the magazines to the page with the number she was supposed to call. Les nodded. 

   "That's Karble's home number. Katy must be there with the packages!" The Boss reached for the telephone.

   "This line is tapped, isn't it?" Les nodded again.

   "So is Sally's. That was the most difficult part of the whole scheme."

   "I'll call the police from the drug store," Ed offered, "as soon as we know Katy is unable to make her move. She'll have to leave the house to get the packages into circulation, but if we can surround her first..."

   "Where's Karble's house?" Henry asked. Les hung his head in defeat. Crewcut did the same. In short order, Karble's house was surrounded and the packages in the hands of the local police. Moments later, the Amsterville authorities raided the offices of Headliner Publishing. Miraculously, none of the offending materials got into circulation, but plenty of evidence was uncovered which put Crewcut, Karble, and Katy behind bars. Because he was forced into it, Les wasn't arrested. The Boss and the others didn't press charges against Les. He did, however, have his office taken away and his position as department head removed. Busted to the trenches, the Boss figured his still having to work with the girls he'd wronged was a better punishment than outright firing him.

   The assembly of friends who had been involved in the affair burned the magazines and other materials in the studio's incinerator before returning to their homes. That device had proven a good investment in getting rid of the studio's waste materials. In the Chestnut bedroom, the hole in the wall was temporarily covered by a huge bureau pushed into place by Henry. Even with the bureau in place, Sugar still felt very self conscious. She figured she would for the foreseeable future. It was a similar story at the Carter house, where Misty made sure to hang overcoats and blankets over the pictures hanging on the bedroom walls. 

   "I think you're over-doing it," Ed sat down next to Misty on the bed, "all we need to do is plaster back over the hole and all will be back to normal."

   "Will it ever be back to normal? Really back to normal? We take our privacy for granted, Ed. Maybe we shouldn't. We're prime targets for anyone who wants to try this sort of thing again."

   Ed put his hand on Misty's back and rubbed gently to sooth her. Misty leaned into Ed and rested her head on his chest.

   "We can't live our lives in fear, Misty. Remember what the Boss said. We're never alone in our battles."

   "I know, Ed. I can't stop thinking about it, though."

   "Cast all your cares upon Him, for He cares for you." Ed quoted. Misty smiled. Ed was right. The pair sat there for a while, Ed wrapping his arm fully around his wife.

   Daisy walked into her bedroom, but paused to look around. So far as she knew, her house wasn't part of the spying operation, but the very idea had shaken her. Daisy couldn't quite bring herself to change for bed. She then thought of the same scripture Ed had quoted to Misty. Daisy relaxed and began to disrobe. 

   At the Baxter house, Jeannie and Beverly tried to resume their regular routine to ensure some normalcy. They were watching television while munching on a big bowl of popcorn. During a commercial break, Bev turned to her sister.

   "Just what was that big plan of yours? You never told me."

   "You said the spies were like the Blob, increasing in size, unable to be destroyed. That got me to thinking the best way to fight a monster is with another monster. I thought we might be able to intimidate them into leaving us alone by putting on a front that we had powerful friends they didn't know about. The Boss kinda did what I was thinking when he threatened Les and the other guy by telling them about how many people they'd ticked off. The idea was to scare them into backing off."

   "Who's idea was the chalkboard?"

   "I think the Boss came up with that on the spur of the moment. Pretty sharp."

   At his house, the Boss stood at the bedroom window to look out at the lights of main street in the distance. His quiet little town had been spared. Would there be similar plots to shut down in the future? Would they be far enough ahead of the bad guys next time? He lit a cigarette as he let the warm evening air comfort him. His wife, a sensational young platinum blonde, stepped up behind him and placed her arms around his chest. He pulled her around to the front and kissed her. He looked at her, then back to the lights in the distance.

   "It was really close," he said as he turned back to his wife, "thank God it worked out the way it did."

   "Do you think they'll try again? From what you told me, it sounds like the enemy has a real problem with the studio."

   "They have a problem with America based on principal. C.B. International is just a symbol of it. They may try something in the future, but God willing we should spot it early enough to take it down. We trust Him, not ourselves. It all worked out smoothly this time, and should anything like this happen again, we have no reason to believe it won't work out fine the next time."

   "I can't help but feel sorry for the girls," she rested her head on his chest as she hugged him tightly, "what must they be going through?" The Boss turned his head back to the window. What indeed? He prayed for their comfort that night.

   A similar discussion took place in the Morrow house, where Patty wondered if the events of the day had left a mark on her husband. After seeing such a twisted attack on the virtue of his friends, would he have any romantic feelings that night? Or would his thoughts be consumed by anger, pity, or fear? Steve indeed was hesitant to express his appreciation when Patty stepped into the bedroom in a beautiful sheer gown, but the events of the day really served to remind him of just how beautiful love is. It can't be conquered by evil, no matter how desperately evil tries. Steve pulled Patty close.

   "I try to let you know every day that I love you," Steve began, "well, I love you more tonight. When one is confronted by ugliness, it only makes beauty that much more glorious. I don't mean your physical beauty, although you have more than your share there, but I can see afresh just how good you are, Patty. Goodness is sexy. And sadly, I don't think the enemy is capable of understanding that." They kissed.

   At the Ralphwit home, Crissy took stock. Her bedroom had a huge window, and it was almost always open. They had no neighbors to worry about disturbing. She'd always enjoyed the privacy of her home, but knew now how much she'd taken all of it for granted. Roger stood in the doorway and watched his wife as Crissy looked out the window. Crissy turned to Roger.

   "I can't imagine what Ed and Misty are going through tonight. Or Henry and Sugar. For them, the whole world must feel upside down right now."

   "If that IS the case," Roger walked over and placed a hand on Crissy's shoulder, "it'll pass. Routine has a way of catching up to us quickly, comforting us with the familiar. I'm not making light of the situation, but I know it'll pass."

   "What you did today was really wonderful," Crissy stood and placed her hands on his shoulders, "I'm glad that our friends reached out to you. I'm so proud of you for leaping right in and doing everything you could for them."

   "We have some wonderful friends in this town, Cris. That's something that's always worth fighting for." Crissy wrapped her arms around Roger and squeezed him tightly as she buried her face in his chest. He stroked her hair as he wondered how the others were doing. These were nice people who had been treated so badly. That makes the offense seem even worse. The thing the enemy fails to figure out about a seemingly soft target, though, is that nice people can shake off an attack. What is perceived as weakness is actually their strength. 

   At her house, Minerva quietly puffed a cigarette as she studied the photos in her albums. She'd been the subject of thousands of cheesecake pix since her joining C.B.I.P. and she'd seen them used against her in the most unflattering way. Steve's photos had a special quality to them, though. Here wasn't a salacious uncovering of the subjects, but a celebration of feminine beauty. Sure, there were those out there who would never be able to see it, never see Minerva or her friends as anything other than objects to be desired physically. They didn't speak for all their fans, however. One can't focus on the negative aspects of human nature. Life is to be spent embracing the better part.

   Minerva closed the photo album and leaned forward to extinguish her cig in the ashtray on the coffee table. She stood and walked over to the window. It was a beautiful night. The stars were shining through sparse groupings of cloud which were illuminated by the moonlight. Minerva smiled. For the first time all day she felt happy. Her friends had rallied to her side to defend her. That was what she decided to remember from this episode. She was blessed, and prayed blessing on all who had blessed her that day. What began as a dark moment had become a celebration of the wonderful. The enemy had lost.

THE END