It was a bright and shiny Beverly Hills afternoon when Shell Scott opened his door to find intrigue laying at the foot of his apartment ...in the form of a corpse! Just another day in the sun for the private eye with a nose for danger. He ' s got to dodge bullets and bounce Beverly Hills beauties in his search for the thug that interrupted his afternoon nap before someone puts him to sleep permanently. Now the only way this private dick is going to cop z ' s is by pouncing on this perpetrator and making sure to Kill Him Twice!
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February 01, 2003
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Excerpt from Kill Him Twice by Richard S. Prather
She raced past the carnivorous seaweed, leaped over a clump of man-eating yummym, and skirted the boiling-lava beds. She was wearing what appeared to be a negligee the color and thickness of thin fog, which slid up her thighs as she ran, bare legs flashing white in the sunlight. She was moving very speedily, but the giant oysters were still gaining on her. Clack-clack, went the oysters.
Her name was Cherry Dayne, spelled hoo-boy, and she was the kind of gal the people in my dreams dream about--five feet, five inches tall, a hundred and twenty pounds arranged 36-22-36 above those fabulous legs, and a face flaunting incandescent lips and acetylene-blue eyes, topped by beige-blonde hair the approximate shade of boiling honey. Yeah, it sure looked as if those oysters were going to get her. She'd run past the boiling-lava beds and stopped at the cliff's edge. Below the cliff was the horrible Lake of Fire. She was trapped.
Cherry screamed--very prettily.
And upon her the monster oysters advanced, clacking wildly.
Cherry screamed again, half an octave higher.
Clack-clack. "Eeeee." Clack-Clack. "Eeeeeeee." CLACK-CLACKCLACK! "EEEAAAAHHH!" "Cut!"
That "Cut!" was from director Walter Phrye, and just in time, too. In another second lovely Cherry Dayne would have been gobbled up and digested.
Phrye, for those not in the know--or not subscribers to Inside--is the genius who directed The Day the Earth Cracked, not to mention Space Glop, not to mention which is a pretty good idea, both of which had apparently been based on returned comic books. And this was, as you may have guessed, the location where Jeremy Slade's latest "monster movie" was being filmed.
You know monster movies--The Day the Worms Turned, The Horrible Living Urp, and so on. Well, this was Slade's latest, biggest, goofiest epic, Return of the Ghost of the Creeping Goo.
Study that title, will you? If examined with a rapier-like intelligence it will tell you a lot. It will tell you too much. Yes, this was the third in the Goo series, which, perhaps, sums up the twentieth century. Future historians, probing the rubble of ancient Hollywood for our age's counterparts of stone tablets, for the antiquities of our constipated culture, may well find Return of the Ghost of the Creeping Goo and say, "Urp."