I’ve always been a people person. But back on July 4, 1976, I became a “We the people” person. The entire country, but especially Philadelphia, had been filled with Bicentennial fever for months, and it reached its peak that day.
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It was 10:30 p.m. on December 18, and I was desperate.
Sleep had grown more and more elusive as I aged. In my teenage years, I often dropped into dreamland as soon as my head hit the pillow. These days, I tossed and turned while the
Frank the Pig Detective shuffled papers on his desk while his brother Bob studied the bookcase.
Wonder what kind of mood Bob’s in today?
Frank adjusted a paper that didn’t really need adjusting, and sighed. Before the Big Bad Wolf fiasco, he, Bob,
“Oh, dear! You simply don’t understand! If you let this girl roam free, the crime spree will never end. I fear for my life.”
Officer Luddick released a long sigh as he tried to maintain a neutral expression. He despised when anthropomorphic creatures came into the precinct. Last week, a wild-haired man-cub with his
Wan December sunlight shone down on Fairyland, softening the edges of nearby buildings. The clear blue sky boded well for the first day of business at Frank’s Detective Agency.
My detective agency.
I turned toward my desk, clapping my fore-hooves in anticipation. Perhaps my first case would be a big one, like those portrayed
In the dense forests outside one of the last Earth cities that survived the great atomic war, the underground revolution continues. Centuries after the war, the once-vibrant landscape is now filled with towering ruins and abandoned machinery. The grim reminders of humanity’s past mistakes are being reclaimed by lush greenery that slowly fades into its fall colors.
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“Here’s the tracks the thief left, Frank.” Fairyland Hardware’s proprietor Marvin pointed to a muddy patch of ground behind the store.
I ambled over to look. Word about my crime-solving prowess had gotten around. These days, Frank’s Detective Agency was the first stop for most Fairyland folk when they had a mystery to unravel, and that worked for me.
I was about to flip the sign on the front door of my office from “Closed” to “Open” when I spotted a bulky black form on the sidewalk. My heart jumped.
Then I recognized my visitor and smiled.
“Papa Bear! You caught me by surprise.” I swung the door open. “Come in.”
Ever since the big bad wolf blew down my house of sticks, I’ve lived in my brother Bob’s brick bungalow. I operate my detective business, solving Fairyland’s strange and varied crimes, out of an office in the back wing.
Like many such operations, Frank’s Detective Agency has had its ups and downs.
I flashed my badge at the officer standing guard and ducked under the yellow tape.
“I’m glad you’re here, Inspector Belden.” Officer Fuzzbee’s nose twitched as he hopped over and mopped his brow with a crinkled handkerchief. “I haven’t seen such a gruesome scene since the Heartsville V-day slaughter. Not a pretty sight, I can assure you.”
I leapt off the HareMaster and started my ear-obic workout. I needed hop-timal conditioning to win my eleventh Eggy award at the annual Easter Eggs-traordinary Eggs-treme Eggs-travagant Expo—so named because the sign printer ran out of Gs.
Midway through my bunny lifts, Mayor Badger shoved herself into my hole. “Hope you’re having
I perched in the trees with my flock, waiting for the land walkers to leave. The tourists had nicknamed our home Murder Island ever since we chose to inhabit it. My name is Maximillian, but my crow brothers called me Boss.
Twilight painted the sky orange and pink as the last two…
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