Furry Freak Brothers "Knock 'em Dead"

I've been a fan and collector of 70s underground comix for years. Whilst trawling through some classic Furry Freak Brother selections recently I came across this gem that I had all but forgotten.
It became an instant fave (again)
A testament to the genius of Gilbert Shelton
Let's not forget Dave Sheridan and Paul Mavrides who helped out a lot with the drawing duties in the later years)
The Furry Freak Brothers Cartoon band - how appropriate.

 

The Chronicles of Jack The Axe

 Lucky escape

Seeing the Market Controller earlier in the afternoon had really lifted Jack’s spirits and he realized he had cleared a lot more timber forest than he had expected.

“Funny how some good humour can make your day” he mused. So he packed up his axe earlier than usual to maybe have a read by the river in the late afternoon light.

This fortunate series of events was more than lucky for Jack, for no sooner had he left that a more determined and focused Market Controller passed by in a way that may have made a very suspicious Jack make an instinctive move to protect himself.

Humpty had changed.

Physically he still had the appearance of a large egg rolled in a dung pile but a look of fierce determination had replaced the vacant look of before.
Humpty just radiated menace.
Humpty had been “Enlightened”
He now made his own way back to the Kingdom with surprising speed; he had a new hunger, a new agenda, a new goal and most of all a new master.

After a few hours the Necromancer had become worried.
“What if things haven’t gone to plan?” he wondered and was now seriously thinking that it may be the case.
The Necromancer knew it would be pointless to look for Humpty if the Witch had bested him because the house would be invisible to his eyes and he’d be left walking around forest in the dark vulnerable.

He made the decision to abandon Humpty here and now, something he was going to do in the township anyway. This way at least if he was gone, he was gone. If not, it was a long way back home for Humpty, someone with no navigational skills save those of finding his mouth with his hands.

Either way his responsibility for the Zombie Dumpty was over, it was not how he would have preferred it to end, but he must get on with his life regardless of the fact that Humpty no longer in it.
Oh, how wrong he was.

Home again

Humpty ran through the night, his supernatural body resistant to fatigue. No one told of his passing because those who were silly enough to be out after dark and encountered him, whether Fairy or human never lived to see morning.
Lucky for the folk of the Kingdom Humpty came back to town late in the evening. The guards on the gate that night were not prepared for the zombie Dumpty juggernaut and the last they ever heard was a sinister laugh and the gnashing of teeth.
The Necromancer had been totally wrong of his understanding of Humpty’s directional abilities. Humpty made a beeline for the Necromancer’s house and more importantly the library.

The Necromancer had a miserable time coming back to the Kingdom, due to waiting for Humpty and his subsequent no show, he had left later than expected and had to make most of the journey in the dark meaning he didn’t pass the through Kingdom gates until after midnight.

The lack of guards seemed very odd considering the King’s latest decree.

The Necromancer entered without sighting anyone.
Riding through the empty streets the Necromancer thought how ironic it was that he felt safer now than ever before in these dirty fairy stained streets, while the rest of the Kingdom locked their doors in fear.

When the Necromancer arrived at home his feelings of security were well and truly trodden on as he was confronted by the sight of his front door smashed in.

Stepping carefully over the shattered wood that littered the stoop he peered inside. A trail of upturned furniture and smashed belongings led straight to his chamber.

“The Book” cried the Necromancer as he ran to the library. He stopped frozen in his tracks as he realised the Book of the Dead had been stolen.

Revelation
The Necromancer had found the Book of the Dead missing but in its place rested a piece of parchment bearing a one line of writing scribbled in charcoal from the fireplace read:

THE KING.  AUDIENCE.  NOW.

The Necromancer’s blood turned to ice.
Had he be found out practicing the dark arts?
Worse.
Had he been linked to Dumpty?
Lucky he Humpty wasn’t here, who knew what the Elite Guard might have done to him.
At least this way he could try to explain to the King himself.

So with a deep sense of dread and at a ridiculous hour of the morning the Necromancer made his way to the Palace.

Though the thought of bolting and finding somewhere to hide in the forest crossed his mind more than a dozen times, the Necromancer stayed himself with the undeniable belief that what he had done was natural justice. As well as that, he had worked out a couple of good “porky pies” as backup, the first that he had found the book in the garbage, or that the Egg just turned up at his house one day.

Either way he would first have to discover what he was accused of before blurting out excuses.

As he approached the Palace, even at this time of the night, activity seemed a lot less visible. Even though it was the King’s Palace it was also the administrative hub of the Kingdom and many people worked nights to prepare for those that worked with the King during the day.

The Necromancer just walked straight through the front doors with no one there to greet him or ask for his summons.
As he walked down the long great hall that is the entrance to the King’s chambers the Necromancer still encountered nobody but observed signs of struggle such as a moved rug or overturned table or stool. It wasn’t until he opened the grand doors to the King’s auditorium that things became clearer.

To be continued.......

Edited by Cathie Tranent, art by Simon Sherry

The Chronicles of Jack The Axe

The Witch's House

Jack the woodsman had seen some strange things in his time but watching the half naked Market Controller Humpty Dumpty stagger through the forest like ten drunken gnomes would have to rate as one of more amusing.
Jack was well aware of who the egg was as well as his reputation around the market and his relationship with the King.
Jack knew the King considered him a vital resource against corruption in the busy markets. Jack also knew the King had no idea that Humpty Dumpty was probably the most corrupt individual in the market - maybe even the whole Kingdom.
Jack was also unaware that Humpty Dumpty had been pushed off the market wall weeks ago and was technically dead.
Sometimes his isolation in the forest meant Jack’s knowledge of current affairs left a lot to be desired.

Jack’s concern for Humpty Dumpty was near non-existent because he knew his own sub-contractors had been subjected to his stand over tactics until it was mentioned who really owned the stall, then things seemed to smooth over rather quickly. Jack may be absent from the Kingdom but his reputation loomed large.

Jack assumed wrongly that Humpty had taken on someone even more corrupt than himself and had been dumped out here as a warning. If he was still around in a day or two Jack would look after him. Right now, no one was looking for him and it might teach him a valuable lesson.

Jack went back to his chopping as Humpty disappeared out of sight.
Dumpty arrived at the gingerbread house only minutes after passing Jack.

Jack was unaware that the house was even there even though he had passed it many times. A strong charm protected the house, which made it invisible to all human adults and their five senses.
The Necromancer’s suspicions had been correct in part.

Humpty filled with the scent of Fairy knocked on the door. Normally he would have just run at it and knocked it down to get to the meal on the other side but the voice in his head told him it would be polite to knock.
Inside an old lady with vacant eyes was pushing a tray of shortbread biscuits through the bars of a suspended cage that contained a plump boy. In the corner, quietly weeping stood a young girl holding a broom. A black cat with one white ear and a leather collar with silver bell was lying on top of the mantlepiece enjoying the warmth from the fireplace below.

On hearing the knock the cat stretched out, the tiny bell on its collar giving a little tinkle. The old lady with the vacant eyes responding to the bell, looked up and made her way towards the door.

On opening the door Humpty pushed the old lady aside and attacked the cat. Being caught totally off guard, the cat was gobbled down without resistance.

Humpty finished off by spitting the collar at the old lady who was still standing at the door totally emotionless.

As the collar bounced off the floor the little bell tinkled again and the old lady’s eyes lost their glaze and her emotionless visage changed to one of horror and she started screaming at Humpty, the young boy and girl, taking this as a cue, joined in.

The Necromancer had been partially right, children had been lured to the house but the old lady was not a witch, she was a slave to an enchanted cat who controlled her to do his dirty work.

Humpty instinctively knew this and after eating the cat had broken the spell holding the old lady.
She then did something that would change the future of all in the Kingdom forever.

She picked up the collar.

The old lady may have been a prisoner to the enchanted cat for all these years and although she had done things she would never forgive herself for, her self preservation instincts and fear were strong and she knew the collar had power.

So, trying to protect herself she tinkled the bell again in a misguided attempt to get rid of the monstrous rotting egg thing that was standing opposite her and scaring her (and the children) silly.

This action would be life changing for all in the room, for the old lady it meant her life would be considerable shorter. Humpty reacted to the bell and snapped at it biting off the old lady’s hand.
The voice in Humpty’s head cried out in glee.
As Humpty swallowed the hand he again spat out the collar.
At that point, everything changed.

The Necromancer had been played like a game of cards.
For the first time since he was reborn Humpty began to smile as he hungrily eyed the old lady and the children with renewed interest.


To be continued.......

Edited by Cathie Tranent, art by Simon Sherry

The Chronicles of Jack The Axe

Hello Humpty

For the first few weeks of his re-animation Humpty’s thoughts were extremely basic.

Eat, eat and stay out of sight when not eating.

Though his brain looked after all motor functions Humpty’s independent thought and history were absent. He had lost all personal identity when he was reborn.

Humpty understood simple instructions and knew how to keep out of harm’s way but in the general scheme of things all he wanted to do and think about was eat.

That was until recently.
A little voice had one day spoken to him deep down in the recess of his rotting brain.

First it was simple greetings like:
Hi, hello and good morning.
And simple pleasantries like:
How are you this morning? Good night and Well done when Humpty caught one of the remaining rats or trapped a gnome.

At first Humpty was confused and tried to locate the voice but in a short while he became comfortable with the pleasant voice and as time passed tried to communicate back in his own way.

Humpty had found a friend.

The Necromancer made no attempt to befriend, communicate or spend time with Humpty other than to let him out to feed most nights.
He saw Humpty as nothing more than a Fairy disposal tool.
What the Necromancer wasn’t aware of was that Humpty Dumpty was being subtly programmed by someone who understood the mechanisation of the zombie infinitely better than he.

What do we do with a problem like Humpty?

The Necromancer procured a wagon from the town council vehicle pool and collected Dumpty from the abandoned shed at the docks where he had been kept hidden these last few weeks. It was just before dawn but the Necromancer knew the King had ordered a higher number of soldiers onto the street recently, to deal with the spate of disappearances of Fairy folk and to stem the groundswell of rumours that he was suppressing the truth of it happening at all.

The Necromancer in his position of Post Master General may have influence over the Kingdom’s Council and bureaucracy but to the Military he was just another citizen, so he made certain all his papers were in order.

He still had a few of the Pied Piper’s enchanted rats to keep Humpty content for the journey, unsure whether going near or through a large Fairy population may set off a feeding frenzy or other such slaughter. Humpty was still an unpredictable force, so he had to be careful and hopefully a full egg would safe guard against accidents.

The Necromancer had no trouble leaving the town centre, as there were no alerts current and the gate guards were usually searching for illegal people and goods coming in to the Kingdom rather than out.
Humpty was surprisingly quiet on the trip through town and the Necromancer congratulated himself on his enchanted rat solution. What he wasn’t aware of was that the zombie Dumpty was listening in rapt delight to the stories being told to him by the voice in his head.
A story of a greedy King and a vicious soldier who slays a peaceful giant and how a special egg came to save the world.

The trip to the witch’s house was a good half-day journey and the Necromancer didn’t expect to arrive till about noon. This, by his calculations gave him plenty of time to achieve his mission and come home under the cover of darkness. It was a well planned trip the only down side was what he saw along the road as he travelled.
Fairy folk were everywhere, Dwarfs, goblins, gnomes, enchanted toys and animals. More than he could stomach and it took all of his will power to stop himself from running some of them over or worse still, releasing Dumpty from his covered wagon.
Not that Humpty Dumpty would have done anything. Humpty was lying down blissfully listening to the voice in his head recount great deeds of hero eggs and their adventures to be bothered with anything outside.

When the Necromancer finally reached his destination he made sure he traveled a little bit further up the road and waited with the carriage after releasing the zombie Dumpty. Even though these woods were sparsely populated it didn’t mean there wouldn’t be others who may implicate him later.
Caution was the Necromancer’s best ally.
It took the Necromancer such time and effort to rouse Humpty from his wagon that for a short while he actually thought Humpty may have gone into some sort of ovum coma. Let’s face it there was so much he didn’t understand about this creature he had bought back to life.
Something he would soon painfully realise.


To be continued.......

Edited by Cathie Tranent, art by Simon Sherry

Virtual /Cartoon Bands through history The Cattanooga Cats

The Cattanoga Catsshow was a package program similar to the Hanna-Barbera/NBC show The Banana Splits, except that it contained no live-action segments. During the 1969–1970season, Cattanooga Cats ran one hour and contained four segments. During the 1970–1971 season, the segments It's the Wolf! and Motormouse and Autocat were spun off into a half-hour show. Around the World in 79 Days remained a part of Cattanoga Cats, which was reduced to a half-hour. Motormouse and Autocat ran concurrently with Cattanooga Cats until both met their demise at the end of the 1970–1971 season.
The later was how it was aired in Australia in the early 1970s.

Cattanooga Cats depicted the adventures of a fictitious rock band similar to The Banana Splits populated by anthropomorphic hillbilly cats consisting of:
Lead singer/guitarist Country
Singer/dancer Kitty Jo
Bassist Scoots
Drummer Groove (voiced by Amercian Top 40 legend Casey Kasem)
A fifth member, a mouse keyboardist named "Cheesie", was storyboarded but cut out of the series. The group travelled around in a van, was chased by a female cat groupie named Jessie the "Autograph Hound" and Kitty Jo owned a big blue dog named "Teeny Tim". The singing vocals for The Cattanooga Cats were performed by Michael Lloyd and Peggy Clinger. Producer Mike Curb was the musical director for the series and co-wrote all the songs performed by the Cattanooga Cats. Ted Nichols composed the background music. An LP, The Cattanooga Cats (Forward ST-F-1018), featuring some of the songs used in the series was released in 1969.
The Cats also appeared in various "bumpers" between the other cartoons, but were best remembered for their animated musical segments. These cartoons showed a strong psychedelic and op-art influence and the Cattanooga Cats remain a cult favorite to this day




GO by the Cattanoga Cats reminiscent of Davy Jones in the vocal department.

The Chronicles of Jack The Axe

The book of Knowledge

The Necromancer closed the book and sat down, and joining his fingers in the shape of a steeple, stared intently at the leather bound tome in front of him.
Something wasn’t right.
The book had changed his life, brought him a wealth of knowledge and made him capable of amazing deeds, the reanimation of Humpty Dumpty probably his most remarkable, but lately he wondered whether he might have a problem on his hands.

The Necromancer – in his guise as Post Master General – had discovered the book in the Dead Letter Office earlier in the year on a routine search of valuables he thought may be worth keeping - one of the perks of the position. Still in its wrapping, the book had seemed to call to him and when he unwrapped it, as a lover of antiques its ancient leather and brass binding appealed to him on sight - it was only after he began to read the contents that it revealed it secrets.

The book translated every page for the Necromancer as he read them and when he was disturbed by some of his colleagues they actually believed he was reading another language. It seemed the book was only allowing itself to be read by him.

The only words that the Necromancer couldn’t read and the book wouldn’t translate were the heavy embossed letters on the cover. Any clues to its title inside the book were sadly missing.
After much searching in the King’s library the Necromancer discovered an ancient alphabet that Scholars had been working on but had abandoned.

After much guess work the Necromancer had concluded that the title must be the Book of the Dead, even though he wasn’t exactly sure.

It was this title and the secrets revealed to him about the rising of the dead that made him take his secret title The Necromancer. Plus it gave him an excuse to wear a big black robe and pointy hat without feeling silly.

Now dressed in said attire, looking at the book the Necromancer was worried because it had seemed to suddenly stop revealing any more pages to him. Even the ones he read earlier seemed to be hidden from his eyes. It was like the book was shutting down.

The Necromancer threw his pointy hat onto the book and left the large reading room to make some lunch.

Had he maybe used up all of its magic? he wondered and then his mind went back to thinking of his stomach, and how well a nice roast beef sandwich would hit the spot.

As he closed the reading room door he couldn’t hear the distinctive but muffled cackling laughter coming from between the covers upon which the hat now perched.

Jack of all trades

Jack swung the axe over his shoulder and made his way towards the stream. The midday sun had reached the perfect spot for him to escape the constant shadows of the mighty forest surrounding the Kingdom. The sun always felt good on his face after a morning of tree felling.

Jack led a good, structured life, one week marking and cutting down dying or diseased trees, the next reducing and splitting wood, the next hauling it into the town square in the Kingdom.

Just the right amount of alone time, good solid hard work and time spent in the hell hole of a market. The structured routine of his life was something he loved and inherited from the twenty odd years he had worked with the King’s Elite Guard. It was now embedded deep into his very soul.

He didn’t miss the constant danger and ridiculous orders at all, but the self-discipline he had learned made him who he was today. Responsible only to himself and that’s exactly how he liked it. Master of his own domain.

His solitary life was only rarely interrupted by the occasional visitor to the forest (usually lost) or when he went to market to sell his wood, and even then he often paid others rather handsomely to man his stall and sell his goods.

He didn’t really have any use for money, as his life was simple and uncluttered.
The woodsman knew of the Kingdom’s wealth and could have been as rich as the King if had wished, because Jack was the one responsible for the King owning the Golden Goose in the first place.

Jack’s axe was more than his work tool; in his past life as a member of the Elite Guard it had become Jack’s weapon of choice and earned him the unwanted title of Jack the Giant Killer from the King.

A moniker he wanted nothing to do with these days.

He knew he was a wanted man by the Giant community, lucky for him they were few and far away these days not being a clan to mingle with Fairy folk or humans.

He often thought of the sacrifice he had made for his King in killing the poor giant whose goose was the financial saviour of the struggling Kingdom. Admittedly, it wasn’t as big a sacrifice as the giant had made and to this day the body still lay where it fell.

The King needed bold measures to save the Kingdom from bankruptcy and Jack was a loyal subject. Still it wasn’t enough reason for him to leave the guard, that was a whole different matter.

When he had been unable to save an elderly woman and her grand daughter from the lies and deception of an enchanted wolf he was devastated. Their remains still haunted his dreams and he often stood outside the deserted cottage whenever he felt depressed to convince himself that things could be worse.
The whole episode reeked of conspiracy and was the nail in the coffin that made Jack resign his commission.

The Woodsman never forgot the look of despair on the face of the postman whose Grandmother and niece had been murdered or the white wash carried out by the King due to lack of evidence and prejudices against Fairy folk.

Jack felt powerless and thought about going after the culprit himself. As it was, the Wolf left the area and as Jack had lost the stomach for his work and took his pension and his guilt and retired to the forest.

To be continued.......

Edited by Cathie Tranent, art by Simon Sherry

The Chronicles of Jack The Axe

The King’s secret

It was long held opinion of those in fiscal circles that the Kingdom’s economy should have collapsed years ago with the influx of the Fairy creatures. The sudden and rapid population growth due to their immigration was more than the Feudal based economy could sustain. The Kingdom was small and surrounded by ocean on three sides and an impassable mountain range on the other what had been cleared for agricultural purposes and live stock over the years had been heavily forested after the emergence of the Fairy folk. When the Fairy folk came the Kingdom increased its import from the larger and much richer neighbouring countries.
The Fairy folk contributed little to the financial status of the Kingdom and generally bartered for goods with the humans or passed themselves off as entertainers as a means to support their kin. They were also a burden on the Kingdom’s social security budget.
But still the roads into the Kingdom continued to be upgraded and the Town prospered and grew outward as the Kingdom managed to meet its debts.
While the humans still tended their small farms and those that ran the markets lived in small cottages on the town perimeter, the Fairy folk were content to live in tree hollows, mushrooms and under bridges. One old lady moved her extended family into a discarded giant’s boot.
The secret to the Kingdom’s sustainable wealth lay hidden on a small island behind a heavily guarded part of the Palace.

Surrounded by armed guards all day and night on all boundaries, the island was accessible only by the King and then only via the royal barge.
The reason for this was due to the massive Troll that cohabitated the island with the secret. Due to a pact with the King years earlier the Troll was given free food and lodging to protect the secret and allow only his Royal Highness unlimited access anytime deemed necessary.

Trolls are a rare and vicious species and almost impossible to ambush but are happily bound by legal contracts that they pore over in meticulous detail before declaring their oaths. Quite surprising for a creature that looked like it would pierce its brain when picking its nose.
The King was never in doubt that the secret was safe on the island. Given a couple of goats a week, the Troll was more than content to idle his hours away growing shrubberies.

The King stepped onto the short pier which was almost obscured by tall weeds, careful to make sure the barge operator was the agreed 10 footsteps from the pier meaning the oarsman was sitting high up on the bow of the barge. If the oarsman was able to have his way he’d be on the other side of the lake still. The island gave him the creeps in a big way.

The King walked onto the island and past the Troll, both totally ignoring each other; (mainly because it was Monday and goat days were Wednesday and Saturday) the Troll weeding under some hedgerows hoping for some worms to dry out for a snack later.
The King made his way through the ornate arrangements and paths that the Troll had decorated the island with. He did a sharp turn at what appeared to be an extremely large rib cage rising up on his left (in actual fact it was) that had been converted into a shelter using sacks of hessian, instinctively stepping over what appeared to be a moss covered log. That was, in fact, a fibula once belonging to same giant who had owned the rib cage.
Moving on just a few dozen steps more the King came to a large enclosure in the middle of the island proper. Opening up the gate and then making sure it was secured behind him before he proceeded, the King stood stationary listening for a noise. A loud HONK made the King’s face light up and he moved across the large pen towards the sound.
Sitting on a shady patch of grass under a large willow tree sat a large pure white goose casually cleaning under its wing.
The King walked past the goose into the coop that obviously housed the goose. Reaching in and feeling around the King withdrew his arm, and there in his hand he held two large eggs that almost glowed so pure was the gold they were made of.
The secret to the Kingdom’s economical and financial wealth was the fact that King literally owned the goose that laid the golden egg.

To be continued.......

Edited by Cathie Tranent, art by Simon Sherry