All language subtitles for sex_in_the_comics_xxx

Yes, come in.

Trey Johnson?

Yes. Yes, come in, please.

Delafield. Silver and gold publication.

But of course.

Take a seat, please.

Warm, isn't it?

Well, I'm sorry.

The air conditioner broke down. Always
does in the heat wave.

Well, where do we start? Well,

as you know, the magazine would like to
lay out an article on you and Pinky the

Cat.

Somewhere in the beginning would be
good.

The beginning of Pinky or me?

They both make good stories.

However, Pinky the Cat has been a
children's institution for over 25

Maybe we should start with him.

Now, how was he born?

Oh, Pinky wasn't born.

He was sort of hatched. Pinky was a
bastard.

Now, that's not for publication.

Now, he was just an outgrowth of a
period.

You might say he evolved out of the
gutter.

You want to clear that up for
publication?

You were too young to remember that, I
suppose. Well, look, let me put it

another way.

I'll tell you the story of another
cartoonist in another time and era, and

that'll clear Pinky up.

I don't suppose you remember the eight
pagers.

Eight pages.

Well, our cartoonist friend, Mac, shall
we call him, was what is known today as

a chauvinistic pig.

That is to say, he joined in on a great
adventure called the First World War.

It was a restless generation, anxious
and naive.

They were going to make the world safe
for democracy, apple pie, and mother.

They were the holdovers for the
Victorian era, where profanity came in

like goths, bee -wiz, and fudge.

It was an era that obliged men to take
their hats off to a lady. It was also an

era when ladies were ladies.

But they had learned a lot of unusually
strange habits in France.

Drinking and women.

Both came free and plentiful with that
marvelously uninhibited gallic quality

indifference.

Now they were home and they couldn't
even get a drink, thanks to Mr.

The guys just weren't going to stand
still for it. You know what happened

A lot of whiskey and beer ran down the
gutters.

But when Uncle Sam busted those barrels,
he released the last vestige of

American ethics with it. And moonshine,
speakeasies, Al Capone, and the flapper

all came pouring out.

With it, floating out of the public
conscience, went Queen Victoria.

All the stops were loose, and a new era
was born.

Mac, our cartoonist friend, was looking
for something to do.

He couldn't sell his cartoon character
to any of the syndicates. It was all

locked up.

He wasn't really set up for bootlegging,
and she was too much of an artist to do

anything else.

So he helped create the eight pager.

And what an abortion it was.

But what was the eight pager?

I thought you'd never ask.

Go ahead. Take a look.

It won't bite you.

Oh, those.

Cold, dirty books, weren't they?

Well, now, that's a misnomer. Actually,
they were really very good.

Dirt had nothing to do with it.

They were a satirization of the times.

Look, take this one, for instance.

Barney Google.

It was a popular comic strip of the
times.

But it showed you just one side of the
man. Now, look, the eight -page one

showed you the more human and humorous
side.

They used to just come up from Georgia,
huh?

Yes, sir.

Aimed to buy that there Brooklyn Bridge
I've been all reading about.

Got to buy cash for it, too.

Psst. I'm the runt.

Get Gertie and tell her it's a pushover.

And tell her to lay off the rough stuff.

These southern guys are funny that way.

Tell her to try and act like a lady.

Gotcha, boys.

That's the Countess Lipschitz. She comes
in here every night for a vodka

cocktail. Would you like to meet this
broad?

A countess?

Would I, sir?

I'm a great admirer of the ladies, you
know. Thank you. And a girl, Gertie, is

going forward in a big way.

It's a pipe dream.

Gertie, I mean Countess, I want you to
meet the great Bernard H. Google of

Georgia, et cetera, et cetera.

Ah, Mr. Google, I'm delighted.

I've heard a great many things about
you.

Ah, I'm delighted to meet you, I'm sure,
Countess.

What do you say we go over to my
apartment, Mr. Google? I have some

brandy, and we can be alone.

Now you're talking my language,
Countess.

What'd I tell you, Spike?

You fell for that Countess shit like a
ton of bricks.

Yeah. I'm just crazy to hear about this
plantation of yours and about this

bridge you're going to buy.

Now you're talking my language,
Countess.

What the tarnation's the matter?

I thought you was asking to knock off
that chunk.

Yeah, but gosh, that would kill a cow.

I'll just stick the tip in and let your
pussy nibble on it.

Oh, Daddy, that's wonderful.

Whoa, must have gone in all the way.

Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa.

Oh,

the doorbell.

I hope it's Blondie home early.

Maybe we can knock off one before
supper.

Hello, handsome.

I'm from the O .K.

Comperceptive Company.

How's about a demonstration of our
product?

My wife isn't home.

Now, don't give me any sales resistance.

Because you're going to be just...

Crazy to buy my product.

But, lady.

My wife.

I simply put one of our tablets in the
old joy hole.

Then, without the slightest danger, I
jab.

Uh -huh.

But we've always used rubbers.

Rubbers don't give me the satisfaction
that one gets when okay tablets are

Why, it's just like where she wants to
be with yourself.

So I'm going to use the rubber.

For the 50 bucks, mister.

I hope your wife life's okay.

If you're ever able to use them.

Oh, dang it!

I'm sorry I was gone so long, but I met
the nicest man at Lucy's. He was selling

a wonderful new contraceptive.

I hope you don't think that I'm
extravagant.

What's this?

I caught him, Yura.

Parked on the main highway and screwing
like jackrabbits.

He made me do it.

And what did you say your name was?

Etiquette?

Remember, this is a very delicate
matter.

I will hear the young lady's testimony
in my chambers.

You take charge of the young man, O
'Reilly.

Yes, sir.

Come with me, young lady.

Come, come.

Don't be bashful.

Tell me everything from the beginning.

I can understand.

I was a young man myself at one time.

Well... Jimmy and I had been to a

dance where we had several drinks.

And then, on the way home, he commenced
making love to me.

I didn't exactly object.

So he parked the car, and he turned out
the lights, and we was necking when

he started feeling my legs.

And then, before I knew it, he had his
hand on my pussy.

Something like this, you say?

He can't.

Huh?

And then he stuck his finger in me.

I guess it felt too good for me to make
him stop.

Then he opened up the front of his pants
and put my hand on something big and

hot.

Then he made me straddle across his lap
and... and...

Yes, yes. Go right ahead. Tell me every
little

detail.

Quick, tell me faster.

And then he put that big thing right in
me, just like that, and pulled

me down on top of it.

Oh, I thought it would kill me at first.

But after a few seconds, it began to
feel good.

Faster. Again.

Again.

Faster.

He got it. He got it.

Oh, Judge.

It felt so good. I couldn't bounce up
and down fast enough.

And then I felt something hard shoot in
me. And I thought I was going to pee.

And then I fainted.

Oh, Judge.

Faster. He got it. He got it.

Oh, but Your Honor, Jimmy didn't do
that.

Oh, Judge.

Oh, well, that feels so goody -good.

Oh.

Goodbye, Judgey dear.

Come on, Jimmy, let's go home.

Case dismissed.

But I want to worry about molesting
innocent people.

Begin.

Well, I'll be.

But, Judge, who hit you in the nose?

It's bleeding.

I'll tell you what, Dixie. If you really
want to make a hit with Eddie, just

give a little fuck once in a while.

But I've never done anything like that
before.

I'd try it, but...

I don't know the first thing about
fucking. Well, baby, you're in luck.

I was just downtown and I bought this
dildo.

It's an imitation prick.

As soon as I get some of these clothes
off, I'll show you what it's all about.

Now you spread out while I get this
phony prickin' mustache on and prepare

get raped.

Is it going to hurt?

He'll start off by kissing your tits
like this.

And fingering your cunt just to get you
into a fucking mood.

Hmm. I like that.

Then, when he's got you all hot and
bothered, he'll tip you over...

And sneak it up your flue.

Oh, Trixie.

Oh, Dixie.

I'm getting hot, too.

Put your hand on my cunt.

Oh, Trixie, this is wonderful.

Now, Dixie, you put on this fake
mustache and prick and screw me for a

I will not.

You're the one who's the teacher.

You fuck me some more.

Okay, you selfish bitch.

I'll fuck you some more.

But you're going to eat a lot of pussy
while I'm doing it.

What'd you say, buddy?

Stay after the show.

What's on your mind, Aunt Jane?

I got a deuce and a hard -on. Let's do
business.

Deuces are so scarce this season.

I'd screw a dozen mugs for that much.

Sister, you can't handle a dozen shags
like I'm going to give you.

Hmm.

You must spend a lot of time in yanking
that thing to get it that big.

Oh, yeah?

Smart -cracking bimbo, ain't you?

Well, let's see what you can do.

Hell, that ain't no cunt. It's a
corridor.

Say, when does that big -time fucking
you threatened me with start?

Shouldn't be dancing a coochie. You
should be in a sideshow. It's the

biggest gash.

I'd like to know who it was ribbed you.
You could fuck.

Hey, hey, hey, hey.

Spread your legs out a little wider,
huh?

I've got my legs spread out as far as I
can.

What the hell are you trying to do? Get
your balls in there, too?

No, you simple bastard. I'm trying to
get them out.

It's warm in here, isn't it?

Anyway, Mr. Johnson, I still don't see
the connection between all of that and

Pinky the Cat.

Well, there isn't. Not yet.

Look, I was just trying to describe the
tenor of the times.

A lot of young potential cartoonists
were out in the street pounding away at

legitimate door, only to be turned away,
forced into things they may not have

liked, but helped them continue their
art.

Look, I'm sorry about the heat in here.
Can I open the window?

No, thanks.

Well, anyway, what happened to our
fictitious cartoonist next?

Well, nothing. He just kept on doing
what he was doing.

The Depression hit with a fury now, and
if there was any chance for cartoonists

before, it dwindled away to nothing
after the stock market crash.

His hopes went down as fast as the
ticker tape results.

The country was forced into a
depression.

And with it, all the craziness of the
decade.

College kids swallowed goldfish and
didn't even ask for an alka -felter to

it down.

Some of them danced for endless hours
for the honor of winning a silver

cup and all the sandwiches they could
eat in the interim.

They weren't getting much to eat at
home.

The country had skidded to rock bottom
and refused to bounce up again.

Mr. Ford came out with a $600 car and no
one could afford to buy one.

And the chicken in every pot ended up by
people going to the local grocer and

asking for a bone for the dog.

They got the bone for the dog, but they
brought it home and made bean soup out

of it.

Yet they had their moments.

Jigsaw puzzles, free ball games over the
radio, movies were big, and every one

of them followed the antics of Moon
Mullins and the Sunday Funnies.

About that time, Mack was approached by
a New York publisher to do some eight

-pagers for him.

Since Mack was starving with the rest of
the country, he accepted.

He used all of the currently accepted
popular cartoons of the time.

and worked him into popular eight
-pagers.

In a short time, he was king.

He produced almost 45 % of the books
that were printed.

A lot of them got mad as hell,
especially the authorities. But no one

caught printing or publishing a single
copy.

His first endeavor was Moon Mullins.

Hmm.

That looks like some suck.

Hot dog.

Song class.

Hold it, miss. You dropped your
handkerchief.

Mullins is my name. Just handsome to
you.

Oh, how awkward of me. Thank you, Mr.
Mullins.

Darn sweet of you to invite me up here,
baby.

How much is the tax?

Tax? Yeah. What tax?

Why, Mr.

Mullins, I really believe you think I
would take money.

Why, I like you.

That's why I won't take your money.

Well, then you want to give me my ring
back here?

Well,

that's a broad ring.

It's another broad.

That's a collar button.

That's a cuff link.

That's my ring.

How do you know it's your ring?

It's got my initials on it.

Golly. A piece of charity ass.

You race high with me, baby.

Let's do business.

Daddy, ooh.

That's some plunger you have.

Hot shit.

What a way.

Wiggle your ass, baby.

I'm going to give you a fuck you'll
never forget.

Give it to me.

Let her fly, kid. Old Moonshine can take
it.

Hello,

Spike.

I thought you'd never get here.

Well, I hope this mug has more on him
than the last one did. Get up and let me

at him.

Big boy?

Want to come up and see me sometime?

Fuck you.

I

want

to get in the movies.

Please give me a chance.

What have you to offer?

I have pretty legs.

Hollywood's full of them.

I have a beautiful figure.

Got a drudge on the market.

I'll bet there isn't a prettier pussy in
Hollywood.

Maybe. I haven't seen them all.

Is this the casting couch?

Yeah, but I don't use it anymore.

I'll let you fuck me if you give me a
job.

I'm too tired.

Come here.

I'll give you a job. Kneel down.

Take that gum out of your mouth.

I'll put you on my staff of cocksuckers.

Someday you may be a big star.

Oh, thank you, sir.

I'll do my best.

Why her, miss?

My wife has told me that you're four
weeks behind in the room rent and that

wants either the cash or the room.

Oh, Mr.

Hoople.

Why, yes, Mrs. Hoople has gone for the
day, but that makes no difference. I am

lord and master in the house of Hoople.

Oh, Major, I have a confession to make
to you.

Oh, Major.

Please don't think I'm a little fool,
but you'll never know how much I've

to have you take me in your arms and
love me to death.

You're so dignified and masterful.

Please, Major.

Kiss me.

Tut -tit, little girl. I know just how
you feel.

Armadillo, you are not the first to be
overcome by the masculine beauty of a

hoopoe. Ooh, Daddy.

Please, fuck.

He can't, girlie.

Never let it be said that a hoopoe ever
failed a fair lady in distress.

No one can blame you, little girl.

Some of the world's most gorgeous women
have fought over...

for what I'm giving you, Paragratis.

What an imagination you've got.

Now, Major, you rest and I'll pump.

But don't you think we had better hurry
and get it over with?

We mustn't take too many risks.

Your wife might walk in on us.

But alas, I've yet to reach the climax.

Well, your little talk with the girl
upstairs did a little good, huh?

She paid up a month in advance.

Ah, yes, that's good, my love.

I was sure I could talk her into it.

Ratted slut fanned me for my watch,
wallet, and scarf pin, too.

Hey. I do hope she's home.

My wife doesn't expect me so early.

I'm sure she's a lovely girl, Sybil.

I say, she will be surprised.

Of course she will.

Shakes the odd soul.

Upon my word, I've never met the
founder.

Baby, hold the arm.

Just so.

By Jove.

The bloody chap must be good if he can
do that.

Ah, who's your sweet madame?

Ah, a bully Frenchman.

My word, doesn't that chap ever get
tired?

Madame, she likes the French creek, yes?

No, no, madame.

The good cocksucker tickles the balls
while they suck.

Ah.

Oui, oui.

Fancy that.

He's complaining.

I resent that.

How can you stand by and let another man
fuck your wife?

Do something!

My dear fellow, what can I do?

I don't know a word of French.

Cats don't feed the kids.

Disgusting.

I guess I'll just stand here and watch
them do it for a while.

Why, just imagine.

Such nerve.

Right out here in public.

Makes me feel funny watching.

Hey, what the hell?

Oh,

what a horrid thing.

Wow, so that's the attraction.

Let those two go.

Hot dog. Can that baby fuck?

Oh, wow.

Now she's chewing on it.

Wow,

look at those two go.

Baby, let's fuck again.

What?

Oh, you brute.

Taking advantage of a poor, innocent
girl.

Oh, I ought to call a cop.

Well, try to figure that one out.

If a nightingale could sing like...

They didn't make the best reading,
literature -wise.

But they perked up the empty bellies of
middle America and gave it a good laugh

in itself.

It's terribly hot in here. Do you mind
if I take this damn thing off?

Help yourself.

that kind of activity illegal?

I mean, why weren't Mac and the rest of
them arrested?

Nobody knew who Mac was. As for the
publishers, they moved their offices

few weeks from New Jersey to Chicago to
New York like flitting fireflies.

Who read the eight pages?

Well, from anyone who could read. Little
boys who can only snicker at the

pictures. You know, when your belly's
empty and the rent is unpaid, sex

an escape from reality.

The country was starting to get fat
again, and the sales of eight pages

to fall.

Mac was getting competition from three
girls in New York.

They had broken into the eight -page
business with a bang. Most of their

comments were about the fair and were
for the tourist trade.

It was rumored that there were three
lesbians, but whoever they were, they

opened up the eight -page business once
again with a bang.

A rip -roaring explosion.

Of course, the little guy overseas with
the funny mustache and his big chin

partner were raising hell. But this
country was too busy trying to keep its

teenagers from tearing up the palace
whenever a Woody Herman or a Tommy

consented to make an appearance.

It all felt like the world was riding a
crest of a wave and we were all heading

for one hell of a crash.

We did, too.

But that came later.

For at the moment, Dick Tracy was doing
just fine in the Sunday supplement and

in the gutters and back alley from coat
to coat.

I'm Detective Richard Tracy.

Call me Dick.

Did you wish to see me?

Yes, Mr. Tracy.

I am Peter Doubt.

And I have every reason to believe that
my wife is leading a double life.

She's reached the stage where every
sexual approach on my part is repulsive

her.

I will spare no expense in this matter.

But, um...

I must know the facts.

Go to it, Digny.

There she goes into that old bungalow.

I'll wait here till she gets in.

Then go over to that window and find out
who she meets there.

Well, honey, how did you manage to get
away from your old man today?

Well, I'm supposed to be at a matinee.

I guess I'll have to get busy again.

I suppose you have a bad case of hot
nuts.

And how.

That phony husband of mine was fooling
around with my snatch again.

And as usual, he couldn't get a hard on.

Come on, you know what I want.

Oh, Trixie.

Please don't tease me.

My cunt is burning up.

Come on and fuck me. Wait till I get
this thing tied on you, ornery bitch.

Now, don't be selfish and go throwing
your lump.

I want a little satisfaction out of
this.

Mr. Doubt.

I beg to report that your suspicions are
entirely unfounded.

Your wife has no paramour.

But if you would increase your domestic
happiness, I'd advise you to buy a

wimpus.

Or a large dildo.

Or still better, take some lessons in
sucking cunt.

I said, would you like to buy some
rubbers?

Is that so?

No, no.

Rubbers. Things you put on your prick
when you jazz for the fun of it.

Why don't you put lard and turpentine on
them?

That's what I use.

I had a bunch of them when I was with
Lee at Gettysburg.

Is there something I can do for you?

Grandfather is hard of hearing, and I
run the store.

I was beginning to think there was
something wrong with me.

Yep. The darn things are sure pesky at
times.

They sure are.

Well, you see, miss, I sell rubber
goods.

Oh, yes, I understand.

If you'll come into the office, I'll
talk to you. I think we can use some.

Oh, have you any of those fancy French
things?

Better take my advice, sonny.

Put some lard and turpentine on those
critters.

You'll be rubbing yourself raw if you
don't.

Well, these are genuine.

If I could only show you how they work.

Yes.

They look okay.

Well, they bust.

I've had a lot of complaints lately on
guys having them bust on them.

Well, what do you say?

Let's try it. I'll use the one with the
knobs on it. It'll only take a few

seconds. I'm pretty quick on the
trigger.

Oh, this is so sudden.

Well, be quick about it.

I mean, no funny stuff.

No head play.

What do you think, kiddo? Does that
tickle or does that tickle?

Oh, gee.

It feels like an alligator has walked up
me.

Oh, take it easy. That hurts.

Don't yell in my fucking ear.

I'd rather fuck them broads going nuts.

So you let the crabs get to you, huh?

You're taking my advice, sonny. And use
the remedy.

everything would have been okie -dokie.

Horseshit!

Well, that was a busted cock, you old
pot sucker. Yep.

It's like hell.

I had it myself in 64.

Seems there's something going on behind
that fence that's worthy of

investigation.

What the hell?

Oh, Bill, tell me you're fucking. It
slipped out.

Like nothing of the intrusion, my lad.

I'm a past master at the proper science
of fucking.

Let me tell you of the time it was one
of our diplomatic missions in Hawaii.

Oh, honey, don't hit him now.

Let's fuck.

Oh, let me just tag him once.

In the year of 1912...

I was sent to the islands to arrange
certain affairs of state for my country.

I was a strapping fellow, and while
bathing, I came upon a beautiful hula

whose name was Zola, the most beautiful
dancer of her race.

It was said that she danced every hour
of the day.

Entrenched by her dancing, I kept out of
sight until I was sure we were alone.

Unbeknown to myself, I was raising a
tremendous heart on watching her

suggestive dance.

She quickly noticed, and dropping her
grass skirt, threw herself into my arms.

To that primitive girl goes the credit
of giving me the greatest...

Hard -on of my professional career in
fucking.

Would you believe that hard -on lasted
for three days without pulling it out

once? I screwed her for three weeks at a
time until I was notified that my

country needed me at home.

And the girl took it philosophically
enough.

For the week before my departure, we
fucked continually, day and night.

I've since learned from reliable sources
that for five years at periods

of nine months, she has given birth to
twins, triplets, and

quadruplets. All mine.

him again, Bill. You might kill the old
fool.

Get up, you old windbag, and I'll knock
you out over that fence.

Ha! The train ran right through the
crossing.

I nailed the boys for 200 in a stud
game.

I think I'll squander it.

Come here, split -tailed.

Well, hi there, honey.

Well, young lady, what could you do for
a fellow with a few bucks and a hot on?

Well, I guess I could use a couple of
bucks, and I know I can fuck you hard.

Class.

This is my father.

He owns the hotel.

Class. Go ahead and register.

And give him a little tip, too.

What have you got for the night?

One double, ten scoots.

One double, ten scoots.

The only thing double about this
upholstered toilet is the price.

Ah, don't be up, Phil.

Doesn't your father get angry when you
bring strange men up here?

Nah.

If you're ever around this vicinity
again, ask for me.

My name's Aphasia.

Well, it all depends on what the tariff
is for this session, love.

Since you're going to be coming around
regular, I'm only going to charge you 25

bucks a bang.

What?

Hey, let me up before the bill gets any
higher.

$25, $10 for this flop, another $25.
You're out of your mind.

And what did you say your name was?

Aspasia.

And how are you, Aspasia?

Well, a girl has to live.

but I can't find him now.

Oh, boy!

A pippin! Sure, lady!

Mice is my fish!

Lead on!

I'll follow!

Yee -gawd!

Look at that hole!

Did she say mouse or moose?

Oh, hurry!

I'm too scared to step!

rescue.

Oh, dear.

Do you suppose it could be in this hole?

Right,

buck. Howdy. That's what they call me.

my varmint. Oh, sweet daddy.

You sure know how to use that weapon.

Oh, God.

Now, let's stop the old dirt road and
see if it's all clear.

I'm just getting hot.

Let's quit looking for that silly mouse
and fuck.

Ye gods, Lainey.

This is a six -shooter, not a machine
gun.

Get up them stairs, young man.

There's a mouse in me drawers, and
you're gonna get it.

You know, Mac was in a real dilemma.

He didn't want to get drafted into the
army because the eight -page business

really revived itself.

Besides, he wasn't too patriotic anyway.

Loyal to the country, yes, but he just
didn't like the idea of getting his ass

shot off.

Drink.

Yes, thanks.

I never knew the eight pages had such a
history. It's really very interesting.

Yes, I always thought so.

It's all a part of the history of
cartooning.

You'll know men were first scratching
out dirty pictures when man first

etching in his cave.

The ancient walls of Pompeii are so
strewn with pornography that women

aren't even allowed inside.

All the rest of the city fell down, but
the walls with the dirty pictures and

the ancient penis stayed erect.

Is that the reason the walls were
preserved?

Oh, but I'll give you odds that Vitacan
P will outlast the Mona Lisa.

It's like a blast furnace in here.

So I guess that was the end of the eight

pager.

Yeah, they'd had it.

But the country was face to face with a
real problem.

Survive.

We went to war and the eight -pager went
with it.

Our G .I .s left enough graphic
pornography on the walls of Europe to

century.

But there were still a few bitter
hangers -on, and Mac was one of them.

He still couldn't get on with a
newspaper syndicate, but he still had to

So he went back to the tried -and -true
winners of the past.

You know, Betty Boop was having
something of a revival.

And she was something familiar that the
country could hang on to.

Nobody even cared whether she had any
clothes on.

It was just a reminder of a pleasanter
past.

We won the war, we dropped the bomb, and
then we lost the peace, and in less

than 20 years, the new generation just
simply pushed the old one aside and told

it to go fuck itself.

It didn't need the eight pages to use
its imagination on. It was out doing its

own thing, making the eight -pager look
like kindergarten time.

If there were any morals left, you had
to hunt in an old age home to find them.

All the stops were out again.

Middle -aged and old men were letting
their hair grow down to their asses and

profess to be right on.

Nine -year -old fourth graders were
getting knocked up, and their fathers

taking them to Tijuana for an abortion.

The country had finally flipped its
gourd, and the gooey stuff they were

stepping on in the streets was what was
left of their brain.

Their morals had left them back in 39,
but Mack... stayed right with it.

He kept on with what he knew best.

Poor old Mac, he was now part of the
lost generation, and his cartoons were

lost as he was.

After all, the new generation didn't
really give a damn, and the only ones

did and could remember nostalgically
were so damn old it really didn't

But for a moment, Barney, Google, and
the rest had a slight revival.

Here's an assignment that some of the
best men in the department have fallen

down on.

It's a nasty reflection on the entire
force that none of them have been able

get the goods on Maxine Dumont,
international smuggler and jewel thief.

She's easy to find and approach, but
they always come back as if they're

or something, and they're worthless
thereafter.

I'll bring her in.

I wish to see Maxine Dumont.

Why, Pat, what are you doing here?

Well,

you see... Just investigating.

Another gendarme, Mimi.

Show the monsieur Pat out.

You will please step in, monsieur
Tresset.

I have heard much about you, mon dieu.

And now, my fool, did you not know that
no man has ever resisted the great

Maxine?

Ah, chérie, I will fuck you, what you
call simple.

You will be my slave, monsieur Spacey.
Oh!

You think you're so clever.

Take off the rest of the clothes,
monsieur.

Ah, mon cher, you are magnifique.

Where have you been all my life?

That is a beauty.

Not bad, eh?

At last I have found a man with a priest
to please me.

You shall never go away.

See it is so, Monsieur.

No, Madame Fiche.

It is all over.

Every time you get mad with big freak,
me, me can't go to hell.

But now the worm is turned.

I will show gendarme where Jules is hid
if he give me good butt.

Comprendez -vous?

Okay, baby.

Don't believe her.

Hello, Chief.

Tracy talking.

We'll bring in Madame Dumont with the
Jules in the morning.

Will be very busy tonight. I don't want
to be disturbed

And

Madame big -time

Here's a free fucking exhibition for you
that's going to last all night.

Trapped by little Mimi the maid, eh?

Well, she won't lose out.

I need her in my business.

Oh, oui, papa.

to that lifeguard.

Oh, hot dog.

Mm.

Uh -huh.

Look at those fucking muscles.

Hello, big and handsome.

Pickle me for an anchovy.

Just a minute, gorgeous.

Who's the lucky stiff you're waiting
for?

Hey,

not so fast.

Let's find a cozy place up the beach.

Let's go, baby.

I'm just dying for some strenuous
necking.

You believe in getting right down to
work, don't you, big boy?

Why not?

You might get a notion you don't like
me, so why waste time?

Come on, let's get the rest of this
bathing suit off.

Let's go to town, sugar.

Bank this uke and see if we can get some
rhythm into this.

My cat, whoops.

My cat eyes, please.

Hey, that's a great idea, baby.

I can always fart better than music.

I want to be loved by you, by you, and
nobody else will

do.

Ring -a -dang -do.

Repent, you fornicating sinners. The day
of judgment is at hand.

Do you know the Ten Commandments?

No, but if you hum a few bars, I'll
strum a few chords.

Gone. I bet I'll be in bed before you
will, dear.

I guess so.

How do you feel, baby?

Oh, I'm ripe for a good fucking beer.

Oh, I got hot nuts this morning, sweet
me. I can tell by the way it throbs. It

makes me hot all over.

Lay off, baby.

You can suck it later.

I'll have it for breakfast, dear.

Oh, baby.

Oh, baby.

Come on.

Come on, baby.

Oh, baby.

Come on.

Get set, baby. I'll be with you in a
second.

Hurry!

Boy, what a target.

Oh, hurry, dear.

Let me see you ring the bell.

Leave the rest to me.

Open the door, dear.

I got some important papers.

What the hell?

I repeat, Mrs. Brown, if you don't pay
your gas bill immediately, I shall shit

on your floor.

Where's my baby?

My husband.

Don't move.

He's drunk.

I feel like a piece of ass, wife.

Get set.

Over here, dear.

Wife, have you been cheating on me?

I see six feet in this bed.

Nonsense. You're drunk.

Drunk nothing.

I'll count them.

Shh. Don't move.

One.

I must be drunk.

I can only count four.

The idea of thinking I would cheat.

Good morning.

I'm Dr.

Fingalforte. What's the trouble?

Well, Dr.

Fingalfarter. Dr.

Fingalfreaker. Dr.

Fingalforte. Dr.

Fortyfinger. Dr.

Fingalforte. Fortyfinger. Dr.

Fingalforte. Fingerfucker.

Fingerforte. Fingerfucker. Forget it.
Fuck it.

Something's wrong. I've been screwing my
wife Toots here for two years. We're

trying to have a baby. I just can't seem
to knock her up. I don't know. I do my

part. He blames me.

Well, Mr. Casper, sometimes it's the
woman.

And other times it's the man.

But to get the thing settled, I want you
should fuck her over there on that

couch. And in two minutes, I give you
the answer. Quick, like that.

Come on, Casper, I'm getting you.

Oh, no, Poirot.

Already I see the trouble.

Oy! Oy!

Bit of prick like that.

You could knock up a cockroach even.

The only chance you got is a sympathetic
baby.

You mean synthetic, don't you, Doctor?

You see, she jerks you off.

And I catch it in this jar.

And then, with an atomizer tube, I blow
it up in her womb.

And nine months later, he gives the
baby. Okay?

Doctor, you're so good.

It is just the right spot.

Oh, boy, I got hot nuts.

It looks good enough to eat.

Doctor, you darling.

They're leaving me out in the cold.

Oh, doctor, this is so good.

Any port in a storm.

And that was the end, finally?

All the new cartoonists couldn't draw
them like the old guys.

They just didn't have the touch.

It's all a lost art now.

Gone like apple blossoms in the spring.

The end.

Quite a story, Mr. Johnson.

Call me Drake.

Trace.

Drake.

But I still didn't get any information
on Pinky the Cat.

Where does he come into all of this?

It's going to be very difficult for me
to print the story you just told me.

You're right.

But then I always digress.

Look, I'll tell you what.

Why don't you come up with me to my
apartment, and I'll fix dinner for the

of us.

give you the whole story.

Okay?

Sounds great.

Only I'll fix the dinner.

Super!

He must have been quite a man, your
friend Max.

I sure would have liked to have met him.

Who knows?

Maybe you will.

Maybe you will.