Posts Tagged ‘Beretta’


Dogbad 22 – The Debbil’s Music

The Debbil blows snakes to sleep in the hotel hall…

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1. The Debbil whips out his golden pipes and blows with all his cunning! His Mephistophilean melodies are particularly purposed to appeal to the siesta-instincts of the serpentinian Central Nervous System.

2. The two gangster-snakes swoon and drop like real estate prices. Kit and the Debbil calmly regard the sleeping serpents. It does not appear they will regain conciousness any time soon.

3. Not everyone grooves to the Debbil’s music, though. Señor Hsss has stuffed his rattle in his ears lest he succumb to the soporific sonorities of this infernal brass section. “Is it over?, he asks, grimacing. “Yes”, McKlaw assures him.

4. The Debbil and Hoss, Hsss and McKlaw brace for Kit to bust down the door. “Stand Back- we’re going in!”

5. Meanwhile, inside the private room, Daring Daylight dominates the game. One by one the players have folded, leaving only the Snake Shaman to match wits with the baddest card strategist of her generation. “Ok, Shaman, what you got?” she asks languidly.

6. The Shaman displays his hand with a bold mesmeric glare: “I’ve got FOUR ACES!”

7. Daring Daylight faces him down with all the focused resolution of a cross Macedonian Phalanx: “SAAAAAAY! You ain’t playing on the square, Shaman! THAT ain’t the hand I dealt ya!”

8. Before he can reply, the Snake Shaman finds himself face-to-face with a loaded, blue steel Winchester Glock Beretta Smith & Wesson Colt .45 revolver! This old man does not like them apples. Daylight calmly commands him: “Say your prayers, Shaman”. The cartoonist silently wonders to himself: “Is there such a thing as too much ‘product-placement’?”


Dogbad 23 – What Devil?

Kit, Hoss, the Debbil and Hsss crash the game and confront the Snake Shaman.

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1. Suddenly and without warning, Kit McKlaw, Señor Hsss, Señor Hoss and the Debbil smash down the door of the private room. The partiers flee in panic.

2. As the room quickly empties, Kit draws a pair of revolvers. “Pardon us- we’re here to speak with Mister Snake Shaman.” He stands audacious- flanked by Señor Hsss, Señor Hoss and the Debbil- facing the room’s two remaining occupants- the seated Snake Shaman and his concomitant serpentess Ms Condomleeza Cobra. McKlaw continues,”We need to converse in private.” “Any objections?” adds his pistol.

3. With the last guest out the door, our friends can let down their bluff. “Shaman Sahib, please help us”, pleads Señor Hsss. McKlaw continues, “It’s my Hoss”; “We’ve been spooked” whinnies Señor Hoss.

4. “Na, DAG-NAB-it!” exclaims the cross Shaman. “What is your major malfunction? Can’t you crybabies mind your own bizness and let me mind mine?” He remains seated, and does not offer a chair to anyone. Manners hardly matter at this juncture- all the furniture save his own seat is strewn in bits and splinters around the room.

5. Señor Hoss steps forward. “It’s this Debbil on my butt, I can’t get rid of him! He’s beating me up!” Mister Snake Shaman looks down impassively.

6. Miss Cobra looks up at the Snake Shaman as he disctacts himself by catching flies. At length he replies with a question to Hoss: “What Devil?”

7. Señor Hoss snaps back at the Shaman: “What do you mean, “What Devil?” -This devil right here growing out of my butt! -That’s what devil! Are you BLIND?” Hoss continue pointing to his posterior without glancing back to see the Debbil has suddenly removed himself. What the devil is going on?

8. Hoss turns his attention to his own backside and is momentarily rendered speechless wirth surprise. “Bup, buh, he’s GONE!” The Snake Shaman remains sitting, Ms Cobra silent by his side. Señor Hsss looks on, himself puzzled.