My name is Minotaur, Joe Minotaur. I’m a cop. I walk the Comic Strip beat looking for crimes against toons and their creators. Some cops carry a gun, I carry a net, a Dryadnet. (DUM-M, DA DUM-DUM.)

The current missing persons case has left Cliff and I staring at empty plates. We were starved for clues. The menu for today only made us hungry and nothing special was going on. By now, we were hoping to have our pick of prime suspects, but our pot luck was running out. Dianne, our police department’s dentist, was a hot dish, but even she had gone cold. We needed to stop simmering and stir things up. We needed to find a witness to grill. Someone who would spill the beans and blow the lid off this case.

“Cliff,” I say, “who do we have on the list of usual supplements, I mean suspects.”

Cliff thumbs through his notes, “First, we have Mason Jarr, but he’s in the can. He stewed some tomato and got caught red handed. Rice Steamer is serving time for making a meal out of a beef he had with his main dish. Nacho Chip cheesed off Monterey Jack and was found last week, face down in the Salsa River. Jack melted into the crowd and hasn’t been seen since. Lobster Bisque is in the holding tank for pinching a pearl necklass. Shrimp Scampi is in the hospital with third degree burns. Orange Marmalade was in a real jam over at the Sandwich Board. Seems they were questioning her sense of taste. Spice Rack and his gang have been broken up. Black Pepper was a'salted and has been laying low. The Corn Boys, Seed, Yellow and Sweet, along with their father, Pop, have been arrested for making Moonshine. Boise Idaho has become a hot potato and nobody wants him. Short Order pulled a job at the Frying Pan, then knocked over the Fryer. Sub Marine got torpedoed by some saucy little lady called Speedee. Sweedish Meatball is now slingin’ hash at some diner. Claims he wants to put his pasta behind him.”

“What about Black Angus?” I ask. “Any idea what’s happened to him?”

“I believe he relocated somewhere else.” Cliff says.

“You don’t mean…?”

“Yes, Sir. He pulled up steaks and left town.”

(DUM-M, DA DUM-DUM. DUM-M, DA DUM-DUM DA-AHH!!)

My name is Minotaur, Joe Minotaur. I’m a cop. I walk the comic strip beat looking for crimes against toons and their creators. Most cops carry a gun, I carry a net, a Dryadnet(Dum-m, Da Dum-Dum).

The case that Sgt. Cliff Hanger and I were working on has left us with many questions that needed answers. Now that the file and Cliff’s Notes were compiled into one little book, it was time to go over them once again.

“This is a missing persons’ case.” I state the obvious. “It invovles the disappearance of three humans and two fey creatures.”

“Three fey creatures.” corrects Cliff.

“Three?” I ask. “Are you talking about that huge fly? He’s not missing. He’s been spotted raiding the landfil again.”

“No, Joe.” Cliff says. “From what I can see here, there is a third fey creature invovled, an incubus named Spitcock.”

“Where did he come in?” I ask. “I don’t remember him.”

“At the beginning.” Cliff says. “An unidentified old man was seen with Roger Egg just before he disappeared. We now know that his name is Digory Spitcock and that he is an incubus.”

“So, we have an incubus and a succubus?” I ponder. “It sounds as if they were made for each other.”

Cliff brings up a point, “I don’t think that two demons, trying to feed off each other to gain power, can really form a meaningful relationship.”

“Do we even know if there is a relationship between them?” I ask. “Where are they now? I know, I know, they’re missing, but have they been seen since then?”

“The only one we’ve been able to keep tabs on is the giant fly, Luciano.” he says.

“Who?” I ask.

“Luciano.” Cliff says. “Someone in the press tried to inverview him, but he only gave his name before he flew away. A lot of people have become interested in this case and the fly, Joe. There’s even a website.”

“The fly, has a website?” I ask.

“Yeah, Joe.” Cliff says. “It’s located on the boilerplate that’s found on page one of the comments:   http://home.comcast.net/~ccdesan/Pibgorn/Pibgorn.html

(DUM-M, DA DUM-DUM. DUM-M DA DUM-DUM DAHH!!)

My name is Minotaur, Joe Minotaur. I’m a cop. I walk the Comic Strip beat looking for crimes against toons and their creators. Some cops carry a gun, I carry a net, a Dryadnet. (DUM-M, DA DUM-DUM.)

It was the time of year that the Narnia Police Department needed all employees to update their personal data. Since he was now assigned to me, it was my responsibility to see that Sgt. Cliff Hanger’s personal data was current. We skipped some of the early data, name, age and sex in the assumption that only his age had changed in the past year.

“Marital Status?” I ask.

“Single.” Cliff answers.

I pause for a moment. “I’ve been meaning to ask you, Cliff. Do you have any brothers or sisters?”

“I have an identical twin brother.” he says.

“There’s a pair of you?” I ask, shocked.
“Yes.” he says. “And two sets of twin sisters. Together, they opened up an art gallery, featuring sculpture and wood carving. They call themselves ‘Too Pare’.”

“What about your brother?” I ask.

“He works for our three identical cousins, all boys.” he says, “They have a travel agency called: ‘Trips’.”

“Anyone else?” I ask.

“I have an Aunt and Uncle that had five daughters, one straight after the other.” He says.

By this time, I was feeling a little flushed. I say, “With so many kids it would be easy to have a full house.”

“Ah!.” says the seargent. “I almost forgot the quads! Lucy, Lacy, Lois and Linda. How could I forget them! They really are four of a kind! Not only that, but their mother, Aunt Patricia, is due to give birth again very soon!”

As if on cue, Cliff’s cell phone rings. It’s a good thing he’s sitting down. From the look on his face I can tell it is some amazing news. His hand trembles as he hangs up. His face is white as a sheet.

“What is it, Cliff?” I ask. “Twins, triplets? Boys, girls?”

“All boys.” He says. “Quints. But not identical. My Aunt and the babies are doing fine”

“Whoa.” I say. “A Straight Flush. Cliff, didn’t you say your ancestors are related to England’s Royal family?”

“Ye-yeah, if you go back about six or seven generations.”

“Well, Cliff…” I say, “I think your Aunt should stand Pat, because she is holding the winning hand!”

(DUM-M, DA DUM-DUM. DUM-M, DA DUM-DUM DA-AHH!!)