Doogan here and I’m lucky to be alive!
Your favorite news-hawk has suffered a setback. I have
awakened to find myself locked in some sort of packing crate and it’s as black
as Aunt Emma’s Christmas pudding. The only sound I can hear is a low drone of
powerful engines. Otherwise, I am deprived of all possessions save for my trusty
Remington portable, noiseless typewriter, on which I am presently tapping this
dire dispatch.
My last recollection is of a pleasant preamble in the
beauteous lotus gardens of Dr. Koo. My host was giving me the ten-cent tour of
his exotic blossoms. The florid collection boasted many unique varieties,
according to the Doctor, several of which were possessed of remarkable
properties.
I was giving one of the lithe lilies a deep sniff, as Dr.
Koo had just extolled the virtues of it’s particularly potent perfume, when all
of a sudden the world began to spin and my pegs gave out from under me. Coming
to I find myself in the circumstances I have already described, packed and
shipped to destinations unknown.
Now, if it were not for my ability to type in the dark, a
skill I acquired during the frequent bouts of temporary blindness I suffered in
the initial months of prohibition, this desperate document would be impossible.
How I will deliver it to the wire services has yet to be seen.
I can also only hope that my friend Dr. Koo has somehow
eluded a similar fate and is not this very minute also shanghaied by these
mysterious assailants. A big cheese like Koo would be almost as valuable to
kidnappers as an award winning American journalist.
Fear not however, gentle readers as I have been in tight
spots before and somehow I always manage to get clear. I’m sure nixing this jam
will be no different.
Until next time, turn the lights off Ma and let the cat out.
This is Doogan signing off.
