The Chronicles of Lucifer Jones, Volume 4: 1934-1938, Hazards
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After his Adventures in Africa, his Exploits in Asia, and his Encounters in Europe, everyone’s favorite man of the cloth is back to tell you about the Hazards he encounters in South America. They include the terrifying Island of Annoyed Souls, the discovery of the Lost Continent of Moo (spelled correctly for a change), a battle with safari ants that even Charlton Heston wouldn’t want any part of, and a pair of Bird Girls who live in matching Chartreuse Mansions.
You’ll meet some old friends such as Capturin’ Clyde Calhoun, old heartthrobs such the Scorpion Lady, old rivals such as Major Theodore Dobbins and Rupert Cornwall, an old nemesis (the remarkable Erich von Horst), a pair of naked high priestesses (or goddesses, take your choice), the sinister Dr. Mirbeau, the incredibly wealthy and incredibly undesirable Baroness Schimmelmetz, and a score of others–-including Bubbles, an anaconda with an attitude.
And making his way through these hazards is the irrepressible Right Reverend Honorable Doctor Lucifer Jones. So come along–you don’t want to miss the fun!
wandering around the island somewhere,” said Ramon. “Not like poor Omar.” “Omar was your partner?” “Yes.” “What happened to him?” I asked. “Did he die on Doctor Mirbeau’s operating table?” “No,” said Ramon. “Doctor Mirbeau turned him into a rabbit.” A tear came to his eye. “I ate him.” “You ate your own partner?” “It was instinct,” said Ramon. “He shouldn’t have run. Ever since the operation I have this compulsion to chase things.” “How about you?” I said, turning to Miguel. “You got a
east, which was the direction I’d seen Mudapa and his men heading when he’d swiped all the skins. It took about two hours to catch up with ’em, as they wasn’t in no hurry, and in fact they was all sitting around swapping jokes and smoking little native cigars when I arrived. I waited until they got up and started walking again, slipped on my Jaguar Man duds, and joined ’em. No one paid me no never-mind until lunchtime, when the chef made the rounds and asked each warrior what he wanted. When he
wearing a black robe and keeping a deathgrip on a gavel. There was no one else in the courtroom except for Erich von Horst, natty as ever, sitting in the first row and smiling like a cat what was dining on a slew of canaries. “Here he is, your honor,” said the guard. “He refuses to be bailed out.” “This is most unusual,” said the judge. He turned to me. “You understand that Mr. von Horst here has generously agreed to pay your bail?” “I’m happy where I am,” I said. “You are?” said the judge,
set a brave example. I wandered over to the window and looked down on the front lawn, where I saw a bunch of corpses in dresses sprawled across the grass. “Either we got some women campaigning for the presidency,” I announced, “or you ladies are married to the most peculiar batch of husbands I ever did see.” “They are women,” said one of the young ladies. “They are sick and tired of the mess men have made of this country and have decided to take it over themselves.” “Can’t they think of
sudden-like. “What are you staring at?” he continued. “Haven’t you ever seen a dog before?” “Man and boy, I seen a lot of dogs,” I told him, “but up until this minute I ain’t never had a conversation with one.” I looked around. “Are there a lot of you?” The dog kind of frowned. “How many of me do you see?” “I mean, are there a lot of talking dogs in these here parts?” “I hardly see that that’s any of your business,” said the dog. “What are you doing on this island?” “Right at the moment I’m