14. Dateline Chin Wey / Doogan makes for Market!

Doogan here and I’m lucky to be alive.

It seemed an eternity that Lt. Merian Archer of the United States Rocket Corp and I floundered through the dense tropical forest, following a tributary of the Boo-Kong River. At last fortune smiled and we chanced upon a sampan. My expertise with South-Asian dialects enabled me to negotiate passage with the grizzled farmer and his family who were transporting their crop to market. (Note to Mr. Hearst-please forward on account; one silver-plate Timeking wristwatch to my lodgings in China Station, engraved with the following; ‘To my flying hero, love Becky Sue’.)

Storm clouds were not far away however. As the river began to widen we saw in the distance a log boom chained across the water and baring our way. From the agitation of our hosts I deduced that we had chanced into the trap of a band of river pirates, a not-uncommon occurrence in this remote district. The sampan family was for a return up river but Lt. Archer adamantly argued for a bold scheme, which if successful would see us through the trap and on our way east.

At this point a shot rang out, splintering our gunnel. Emerging from the riverbank was as motley an assortment of villains this side of Al Capone’s bachelor party. The gaggle of eye-patched and ragged brigands waved at us with their weapons which included antique matchlocks, machineguns and every stage of firearm development between. Boats pushed off from the shore and I knew we were for it soon.

All this while Lt. Archer was fiddling with his damaged rocket pack. As our host family cowered in the bottom of the sampan I prepared to meet the pirates with my usual bravura. I realized however that I had little time to disguise myself as a Chinese peasant’s grandmother.  It was just as the bandits neared our vessel that Lt. Archer’s rocket gave a truncated bark of smoke and then violently roared to life. A column of fire exploded from the back of our craft, blew the pirate dinghys top over bottom and we leapt forward toward the log boom. We must have been nearly out of the water as we passed clean over the boom and continued on down the river at what must have been eighty miles per hour. Merian braced his rocket pack against the back of the boat while the rest of us held on for dear life.

I am writing this dispatch in the market town of Chin Wey where we have taken our leave of the farmer and his family who were so grateful for their deliverance from the pirates (and a record setting travel time to market) that they gave us a basket of mangoes and a live chicken.

 I leave you now dear readers with the promise that my quest for missing American theoretical biologist, Dr. Raullo Ortega, associate developer of the new Quaker quick-oats porridge, will continue. Until then, turn the lights off Ma and let the cat out. This is Doogan signing off.

Please visit the Pulp Figures site 

13. Dateline Gun-Xiang / Woo Escapes!

13. Dateline Gun-Xiang / Woo Escapes!

Jimmy Woo here and for weeks I have received no word of Mr. Doogan. I myself have survived many harrowing adventures in my disguised role of Notorious Warlord Chun King’s personal physician, traveling with his rampaging army as it cuts a bloody swath through the chaotic southern provinces.

This last week we found ourselves once more besieging the Gun-Xiang monastery. I now believe I have uncovered the reason behind the General’s obsession with the normally peaceful monks. In a large wagon pulled by no less then ten oxen, hidden beneath a canvas cover, is the strange electronic cannon device which I had earlier spied in Chun’s mountain strong-hold. Readers may remember that I had linked this weird scientific apparatus with the missing American inventor that Mr. Doogan and I are tasked with finding on behalf of the honorable Hearst newspaper chain.

I am now more certain then ever that this weapon must be a creation of Dr. Ortega. From the varied conversations I have had with the mercenaries of Chun King, it seems that the strange device cannot function as it is missing a critical part, the previously mentioned Promethean Vacuum Tube. This component, it seems, has somehow come into the possession of the monks of Gun-Xiang.

As to myself, I began to fear that my medical disguise was starting to be questioned by my captors. This was partly due to the large purple body rash Chun King developed after using the herbal ointment I prescribed for his gout. As well, my skills at acupuncture, while improving, have been a source of growing suspicion. Sensing impeding danger, I committed myself to escape at the earliest opportunity.

It was not long before that opportunity presented itself. Chung once again boldly assaulted the monastery ramparts and as the battle raged I successfully made my way through the smoke and flame only to become trapped amidst the ruined buildings of a nearby village.

As the shells rained down I said my final prayers but fate intervened and I was confronted by several warrior monks who, taking me for a soldier of Chun, made me captive. Inside the Monastery I had the miraculous good fortune of being recognized by two of the monks who, as things turned out, were cousins of mine-twin brothers from the Chin side of my family. Defeated once more, the warlord has retreated and I remain with the Chin twins and the other holy men, safe for now and soon to discover the secret connection between the monks of Gun-Xiang and Dr. Raullo Ortega.

This is Jimmy Woo saying, do not worry Mrs. Doogan as you retire to bed this evening and do not forget to release your cat from your home.

Please visit the Pulp Figures site. 

12. Dateline South Asiatic Wilderness / Doogan Lost

Doogan here and I’m lucky to be alive.

Loyal readers will recall my harrowing rescue from certain death by a fantastic rocket man. I am now able to identify my aerial savior as Lieutenant Merian Archer of the United States Rocket Corp.

For nearly a year now, stateside rumors have been circulating about an elite new branch of the United States Army Air Service. Readers of Hearst newspapers will remember that this reporter personally linked this mysterious military unit to an incredible invention by missing American Scientist, Dr. Raullo Ortega. According to a recent filing at the Lakehurst New Jersey Patent Office, a rocket assisted infantry launcher was registered by Dr. Ortega on January 3^rd of last year. At the same time, this reporter learned by means legally questionable but rendered morally justified under the auspices of the 5^th estate, Ortega also registered an underwater radio transmission device and a seedless variety of cucumber. All of these patents stand as further evidence of the missing inventor’s unpredictable genius. We can only imagine the desperation behind the closed doors of the Capital Building in Washington. Should Dr. Ortega fall into the wrong hands our nation could find itself in immanent peril.

As to my own present situation, I write this dispatch while lost somewhere from within a vast and trackless Asiatic swamp. Sadly, Lt. Archer’s rocket device was badly damaged by an accidental impact with this reporter’s Remington Noiseless Portable Typewriter-which itself remains miraculously functional as evidenced by this missive. While one might attribute the Lieutenant’s stony silence towards this reporter to my unintentional contribution to our present dilemma, I realize that Lt. Archer must guard himself from revealing any secrets pertaining to a mission vital to national security.

Our only recourse now is to endure the buzzing swarms of biting insects, the deprivations of hunger and thirst and to follow a stagnant, snake infested stream in hopes that it will lead us to a tributary of the mighty Boo-Kong River and perchance, civilization. Until then, turn the lights off Ma and let the cat out. This is Doogan signing off.

Please visit the Pulp Figures site.

11. Dateline Unknown / Doogan Takes a Fall

Doogan here and I’m lucky to be alive!

Apologies go out to my faithful readers but this reporter has been out of circulation for a while. I am victim of circumstances beyond the control of even my esteemed publisher Mr. Hearst, who sent me on this assignment to find missing American Electrical Physicist, creator of Aluminium Helio-Vapor, Dr. Raullo Ortega. Regular subscribers will recall, when last I wrote, I was trapped inside a dark container of some sort with only my trusty Remington portable noiseless typewriter to keep me company.

The next installment of my adventure began when I was awakened by rough hands grabbing me by the scruff and unceremoniously dragging me from what turned out to be a large shipping crate. I was immediately thrust into a wind-blasted open doorway. My eyes, accustomed to total darkness, were blinded by the glare of daylight. Without a word, my masked abductors gave me kick in the posterior and I instinctively prepared to land in a gutter. Instead I found myself falling like a sack of hammers through the blue yonder.

Plummeting towards certain doom, I was just able to glimpse a very large aircraft receding in the distance. I found myself smiling at the irony of meeting my fate in this altitudinous manner, reminded of my second wife Leota who accidentally tangled my ankle in the rope of a hot air balloon during our honeymoon in the Pokinos.

Suddenly I heard a deafening roar and I was seized by a pair of strong arms which arrested my precipitous decent. Turning, I saw my rescuer was some sort of flying man wearing a backpack which spewed a jet of flame. At that moment my savior was struck hard by a falling metal object, which turned out to be my typewriter-obviously thrown from the plane immediately after me. Fortune smiled once again and I was able grab hold of my prized possession but the damage inflicted to my rescuer’s flying equipment was already done. His dented rocket began to sputter and we commenced to plummet once more. By the slimmest margin the flying man was able to re-start his engine just before the fatal impact and we careened into a swampy patch of ground, narrowly escaping death.

At this point in my narrative I must leave you gentle readers. Be sure, I will return to enlighten you with the next thrilling installment of my adventure. Until then, turn the lights off Ma and let the cat out. This is Doogan signing off.

Please Visit the Pulp Figures Website 

10. Dateline Gun-Xiang / Woo Witnesses Warlord at War

Cub reporter Jimmy Woo here and I cannot speak for Mr. Doogan but I remain alive.

I am reporting from the terrible battle of Gun-Xiang monastery where Notorious Warlord Chun-King has just suffered a crushing defeat at the hands (and feet) of the local monks. Despite the withering rifle fire and even Chun’s attempt to use a new armored gun carriage, the local brand of salamander-style kung fu has devastated the warlord troops as they made numerous bloody assaults on the walls of the monastery where-in the rebellious monks were making a heroic stand. Even from my distant vantage point I could see the monks demonstrating their famed skill of running across the vertical surface of the fortress wall, easily knocking back scaling ladders loaded with attacking soldiers.

In the guise of Chun’s staff doctor I have, for days, bandaged sprained necks and splinted broken limbs. During the course of the battle, Chun’s frustration at his own lack of progress actually began to inflict more casualties on his already beleaguered troops as the emotionally distraught commander repeatedly turned his machine gun on his own men in a vain attempt to drive them forward again. Needless to say, the sight of so many uniformed troops simultaneously retreating from two opposite directions was remarkable indeed.

As dawn breaks over the terraced landscape, Chun has decided to modify his campaign strategy and march south to attack warlord Daing-Po. China Station residents will recall that Chun has already defeated and disarmed Po and that Po now serves Chun but in the General’s own words, “I really need to kick Po around some more. It will be good for morale.”

As to missing American physicist, Dr. Raullo Ortega, pioneer of molecular disruption theory, I have uncovered another clue. It seems that the reason behind Chun-King’s campaign is a quest for something called the Promethean Vacuum Tube. My eavesdropping indicates that this item is the final component of a deadly weapon, that once complete, will give the Notorious Warlord control of all South Asia. It is my hope that this smuggled dispatch will alert the authorities before it is too late.

Until I write again, release your cat from confinement Mr. Doogan’s mother, and turn off your light. This is Jimmy Woo signing off.

Please Visit the Pulp Figures Site 

9. Dateline Unknown / Doogan in the Dark

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.

Please Visit the Pulp Figures Website 

8: Dateline Boo Kong Uplands / Plantation Peril

Doogan here and I'm lucky to be alive!

Despite being graciously entertained by Dr. Koo and his staff here at the good doctor’s rubber plantation, deep in the vast Boo Kong jungle, I have been subject to several unusual encounters with local fauna. Now, I’ve found snakes in my bed before but after a close call with an especially large specimen of deadly tropical spider lurking in my sock drawer I began to get extra cautious.

My faithful Remington portable, noiseless typewriter came to my rescue, yet again, as I had just completed my last dispatch when I was assaulted by a nasty little monkey with an immense cane knife. The fiendish imp somehow managed to unlatch my window shutter, enter my room and was nearly on me before I took notice. Diving beneath my desk to escape the tiny brute and his waving cutlery I upset the typewriter and it fell with crushing force on top of the pint sized assassin, ending his murderous career in short order.

Dr. Koo politely apologized for the incident and explained that a rival plantation owner had experimented with trained apes as laborers and since the failed endeavor the vicinity had been plagued by marauding bands of knife wielding simians. I told my host to think no more of it and informed him that P.T. Barnum once had a similar problem. In fact, Lon Chaney wore his first makeup after receiving a prominent scar while working with Barnum’s monkeys.

I concluded my investigation of the plantation, no closer to finding any clues as to the whereabouts of vanished American engineer, Professor Raullo Ortega, the noted creator of cold rolled radium foil.

I am unable to return to China Station by aeroplane as the pilot who brought me here, Captain Wong, suffered a fatal accident when the bridge across Dr. Koo’s ornamental crocodile pool collapsed suddenly and unexpectedly. The Captain had just left Dr. Koo’s office. Wong’s mishap reminded me of a similar incident with my third wife Sonja, who accidentally elbowed me into an alligator pond, while we were playing miniature golf at the Sarasota Springs Honeymoon Haven. Newlywed memories aside, I’m now seeking alternative routes back to China Station.

Until next time, turn the lights off Ma and let the cat out. This is Doogan signing off.

Please Visit the Pulp Figures Website 

7: Dateline Boo Yi District / Woo Visits Warlord

Cub reporter Jimmy Woo here and I can’t say if Mr. Doogan is alive or not.

Since leaving for Dr. Koo’s plantation, no word has been received from the esteemed representative of Hearst News Services. This reporter is keeping his fingers crossed in hopes of hearing that Mr. Doogan is safe.

Meanwhile, following a tip from my aunt in Boo Yi district, I investigated a report that the notorious warlord Chun-King had entertained missing American physicist, Dr. Raullo Ortega, creator of the Zenon Televisor, at his remote mountaintop fortress. Taking advantage of my Uncle’s apothecary business I posed as a common peddler of herbs and snake venom potions and made the difficult journey up country to the Cliffs of Death.

The infamous bandit is a renowned hypochondriac so I had little trouble gaining entrance to the foreboding compound though I knew there was a good chance I might never leave. The afternoon passed as I waited for Chun to complete his daily round of summary executions and extortion meetings with local farmers. When night came I found myself in the presence of this minor Genghis Kahn.  

Chun King inquired if I stocked bear bladder or crocodile organ. It seems that the notorious warlord’s energetic new wife (his sixth I understand) is posing a daunting challenge for a husband well into his middle years. I could not supply the General with the requested medications but I did sell him a vial of thistle oil that, according to my uncle’s sales manual, makes a passable substitute.

In the course of my medical improvisation I was able to surmise that Dr. Ortega had been at the compound. On a balcony visible from the General’s chamber there stood a strange glass and steel device, which resembled a cannon of some sort. A servant confided that a westerner supervised the construction of the machine. This person, the servant informed me, used a wheelchair and spoke in an odd metallic voice. I was secretly ecstatic as this description matches that of our lost scientist.

Unfortunately, the notorious warlord’s previous physician suffered a heart attack while being suspended by rope from the fortress walls by soldiers who were betting on how high a doctor would swing. I have been taken on as the official medical expert of Chung King’s staff. Further reports will be submitted when I can make arrangements with local smugglers.

Until next time, turn your lamp off Mrs. Doogan and allow your cat to roam free. This is Jimmy Woo signing off.

Please Visit the Pulp Figures Website

6: Dateline Boo Kong Uplands / Koo’s Rubber Plantation

Doogan here and I’m lucky to be alive.

Responding to a generous invitation from resident Mandarin magnate Dr. Koo, this reporter arranged for a visit to the interior in a continuing quest for information as to the whereabouts of vanished American chemist and inventor of Solium Distillate Rocket Gas, Dr. Raullo Ortega.

The first stop would be Dr. Koo’s rubber plantation, fifty odd miles up river and surrounded by a snake infested mangrove swamp known locally by the quaint title, ‘Evil Bog of Howling Devils’.

I was informed that the road to this honeymoon resort had recently succumbed to a major mudslide induced by a minor volcano. To spare the esteemed representative of Hearst News Services any discomfort during the journey, Dr. Koo generously offered to convey this reporter to his destination by private aeroplane.

High above the steaming bamboo hinterlands Dr. Koo’s pilot, an inscrutable fellow known as Captain Wong, probably hoping to keep his worldly passenger from being bored during the flight, decided to demonstrate his aerobatic talents with some impromptu high altitude stunt flying. A sudden inversion of the old box kite had this reporter grabbing for his seat belt, but, due to some unforeseen maintenance error on the ground, the harness was missing its safety clasp.

Faithful readers will recall my interview with the Great Waldo Pepper, during which a similar situation confronted this reporter. My barnstorming experience served me well because in short order I found myself dangling over the jungle with only my wrist lashed to the case strap of my trusty Remington Portable Typewriter that remained firmly wedged beneath my seat.

After several minutes of violent rolling, Captain Wong noticed my predicament and righted the aircraft. Upon our safe landing at Dr. Koo’s estate Captain Wong was profuse in his apologies…. to Dr. Koo, and this reporter sought out the nearest bottle of medicinal nerve tonic.

Until next time, turn the lights off Ma and let the cat out. This is Doogan signing off.

Please Visit the Pulp Figures Website