A new monthly spotlighting the funnier side of the Golden Age and even the years before, after, or during!  Wanna see more funny?  Write us some! Send it to braedenalex@centurytel.net if it's funny and you may see it here!
 

Clever bastard! I was still groggy as I got to my feet; clearly, I was dealing with a pro. Whoever knew enough about my attack patterns to place such a trap was a dangerous adversary.

...But not smart enough! HA! They left Ol' Shiny Pony right where I dropped her! Well their clever ruse of "not caring" wasn't gonna' throw me! I've been in this game far too long for an old trick like that.

Amateurs.

The ship was deserted, the thugs were long gone, and with their precious cargo I might add. I still had no pants on, and it was starting to rain.

I still had my wallet on me though. Don't ask where, and it had enough dough to get me to the bar where I'd regroup and come up with my next move.

A lesser P.I. would gather clues. Not me! I had a hunch on this one.
 

"You need exact change sir, I'm sorry."

The bus driver wasn't being cooperative. Clearly I'd need to employ my Judo training I  picked up during a case in the Orient.

I ended up walking to the bar. Stupid bus driver.

As I rounded the corner on 58th, after 23 blocks of walking, it was pouring, which wasn't a bad thing necessarily. Been meanin' to wash my underpants, save me half the trouble, all I had to do was dry 'em.

I walked into the bar. The ol' hang out for the local scum. I took my usual stool at the bar as a shot of whiskey sat down in front of me.

About a pint later, as the jackass behind the piano began to play a drunken-esque version  of Rhapsody in Blue for the umpteenth time, I threw my glass at him. I needed to get out of here, somewhere where I could think.

I grabbed my hat and walked upstairs to my office.

I took off my underpants and hung em on the windowsill to dry, just as the old crazy lady from across the alley threw her husbands boot at me.

I didn't mind too much. I got a free half pair of shoes. If I walk around a bit more maybe I'll get the other half.

NO TIME! There was a knock at the door! I swung it open to find no one there, but a bottle of cough syrup lying on its side. Spilling its contents all down the hall, with a note pinned to it reading, "YOU!". If someone was making a threat, I wasn't laughing.

...The second boot arrived.

I grabbed my pants, threw 'em on, slipped out of my soggy loafers and into my new boots, donned my hat and coat as I dashed out of the door looking for the assailant who left my little 'note'.

It was going to be a long night. At least I was drunk.
 

Hold on to your seats everyone! Things are just getting warmed up!!

Be here next time for another thrilling installment of:

THE FURTHER ADVENTURES OF...
HERMAN SPITTLEFARTH P.I.

"So hard!" whined Gil, the massive stumbling fool that struggled to make his way the three blocks to his house. Well, if you could call it that.  It was basically an abandoned trailer on a vacant lot.

He bumbled inside and cleared the beer cans from the kitchen table in that crystal like daintiness the Matlocks were known for and set down the mysterious device he had found only hours ago in the middle school playground.

He touched its smooth black surface looking for a button, a switch, anything that would help this poor pathetic elephant of a man with an IQ rivaling that of a typical four year old out. He twisted its one appendage slightly to the left.

Gil thought to himself, Look's like a bachelor party present for Don Johnson."

Suddenly the device started vibrating and making a strange low humming sound! Gil Quickly dropped it and shouted, "Kill it! Kill it!" as he turned headlong into that pesky beam in the middle of the kitchen.

He was out cold.

Hours later, when Gil had come to, he somehow thought that the only way to find out the purpose of the object was to subject it to highly scientific type tests!

He popped it in the microwave because he had found that action had always made his head open up to new levels of consciousness in the past.

After that failed to yield results, he tried everything from dropping it in the bathtub during his bath to simply cleaning it. Gil did learn a very good lesson that day though; a shop vise can hurt if you close your hand in it.

Much later, an exhausted and hungry Gil attempted his last resort, if nothing else had worked to activate this darned device, than by golly! It must work in the VCR!

Quickly Gil popped the device in and sat in his favorite recliner he had found in the alley behind work a few weeks ago.

Now, as stupid as this may seem to some of you, if an idiot tries enough dumb ideas, sooner or later one of them is bound to work. And that's exactly what happened!

For no sooner did the human lard bucket press play, than a strange being with a blue complexion appeared on the screen, and began to speak!

...Gil watched intently as he snacked on a peanut butter rice krispie treat he found in his pocket.

" Hello, Earth man!..or woman! As the case may be. I am Man-Whore! If you are watching this that means that you with your small head have figured out how to activate this device!

Please, we urge you to stay quiet as my Whore dynasty and I will be landing on Earth shortly to reclaim our device!

So I say good day to you!

...Man-Whore needs a beer."
 

It was at this moment that Gil, that silly ol' retard Gil, got an idea.   Yes, he could get his job back! He could prove to them all that he could sell something!

Yes! Gil Matlock WOULD make a sale!