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The Adventures of
Sunblock Hose
and
Doctor Whacko

The world's first and foremost serial
consenting detective and his little
wooden friend by A. Conman Doll
(who is always drinking a big glass
of water while Doctor Wacko is narrating).

In the year of 1887 I took my degree of Doctor of Medicine from an old Afghani practitioner who had recently been mugged by the South Northumberland Street Foosketeers. Upon landing from a hansom, I learned that the gang had advanced to Candahar Street, and followed the many officers of the London police who were looting and pillaging in their wake. Upon grabbing the degree from the fallen medico, I was struck on the shoulder by a jezebel's booklet.

"Read ye of the evils of drink!" she screamed, causing a nasty paper cut to my subclavian artery with her pamphlet. Worn and weak from the cab ride, I should have fallen, if not for the gallant Stammered, who had been a dresser in my old bedroom set. His fortunes had risen since then, having worked his way up from mere furniture to apartment broker.

"Looking for lodgings?" he asked. "Trying to solve the problem of comfortable rooms at a reasonable price? Well, search no more!" I admitted that I was just trying to get away from the murderous temperance woman, but he would hear none of it.

"I have just come from a man wanting someone to go halves on a two-bedroom fixer-upper on Laker Street. Awake every morning to the sound of the basketballs!"

Before I could reply, Stammered threw me over a pack-horse and carried me to the door of 2 Laker Street ... then through it. He and the pack-horse climbed the 21 flights of 17 steps each, eventually depositing me at a door marked "B."

"Now, don't blame me if you don't get along at first," Stammered warned. "Sunblock Holes is a man of peculiar scientific tastes."

Before I could voice my concern, the door was opened and introductions were being made.

"Doctor Whacko, Sunblock Hose," Stammered cried out, and I felt the breeze of the door whoosh by just before it slammed behind me. Stammered was gone. Across the littered sitting room, a tall, thin student seemed hard at work amid bottles and shot glasses.

"I've found it! I've found it!" he cried, jumping up and waving a bloody finger. "The Sunblock Hose Test, I shall call it!"

"What does it test?" I asked.

"The presence of blood in the human body!" he cried, waving his spurting finger. "Let me show you how it works!"

With that, Sunblock Holmes came charging at me, a razor-edged stiletto blade pointed right in my direction . . .

WILL THE WOUNDED WHACKO BE ABLE TO DEFEND HIMSELF AGAINST THE FERVOR OF SCIENCE?

WILL THE SUNBLOCK HOSE TEST BE SOLD IN STORES?

BE HERE NEXT WEEK FOR THE THRILLING ANSWERS! SAME WHACK-TIME! SAME WHACK-WEB-SITE!

(Originally presented on the Baker Street list on June 28, 1998.)