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Jokes and Other Gags
by Barney Brazil

Hmmm….the Joker mused.  There's lots of jewelry in this dame's place.  Not that I care much for the stuff, but it could fund my operations for months.  And anything that would ruin that nosy redheaded reporter's day couldn't be all bad.

"Are you girls finished in there?"

"Just about, Mr. J!"  The syrupy heavy accent from the notorious Harley Quinn sounded pleased.  Wonder what she's been doing all this time, while daddy's been diamond mining, he wondered.

As he stepped into the room, he was greeted by the site of Daphne Blake from the Scooby-Doo gang, bound and gagged wearing nothing but her bra, tights, and…

"I see London, I see France…." then he doubled over in laughter at his clearly embarrassed prey.  She mewed in anger in response, but her words were made unintelligible by the green scarf covering her mouth.

"Whatcha think, Mr. J?"  Harley spun toward him, wearing the now famous purple and lilac dress.

The Joker eyed her up and down.  "A bit dated…but then again, it could be, as you girls say, 'retro.""

"I thought it would be a tight fit," Harley replied, more to her captive than her partner.  "But not really.  Gotta stop taking those trips to the Malt Shop with the gang!"

At this, Daphne reddened and growled angrily into her gag as the Joker just grinned.

"Instead of a ghost chaser, she's really more of a ghost chasee, don't you think, Harley?"

"Yeah…and these scarves really come in handy for those creatures when they catch her!"  Then, she glared in Daphne's face.  "That'll teach you to mock my puddin' in your news stories, Miss fancy reporter."

"You do bring up a good point, Miss Quinn.  How do we adequately "teach her a lesson?"

Harley pointed at the bag.  "You mean we ain't robbin' her tonight?"  She had mentally spent half the loot.

"Of course we will, but Miss Blake comes from 'old money,'" the Joker explained.  "No doubt, her parents took the precaution of having everything this wealthy heiress owns insured…so she won't really be punished.  But I have a better idea."

Daphne's eyes, which had peered curiously over her scarf that covered her mouth, now widened in horror as the Joker produced a feather.  "Hey Harl….which do you think scares her more…a pound of rocks or a pound of feathers?"

"I don't know, Mista J.  Depends on how ticklish she is, I guess."  Harley shrugged.

The Joker looked over in amusement, as Daphne bucked and twisted, as if trying to get away.  But her other two scarves bound her hands and ankles together, making it a useless gesture.

"I'd say 'very' ticklish…now don't worry.  This won't hurt a bit.  And if you're good, the doctor will get you a nice…."

At that moment, a giant fist slammed into the back of Joker's head.  He flew over the bed and crashed on the other side.  Harley turned to face the threat, but was knocked cold by the second punch.  She slumped to the floor.

Daphne's eyes widened in amazement, then her shoulders slumped in relief.  She murmured a "thank you" unsuccessfully into her gag.  But Batman hardly noticed, as he grabbed each of the unconscious characters.

"I must get these two to jail….before they wake up," the Dark Knight explained.


"Oh yeah…uh….I'll have the police dry clean your purple dress and send it back to you, after they book Harley Quinn."  He pulled the two villains to the bed, then opened the apartment window and prepared to fire a rope and grappling hook.


He looked at her for a second, then nodded understandingly.  "Don't worry…I, uh, called for backup before I got here.  You'll get loose."  He snatched the Joker and Harley, then flew from the room, oblivious to her muffled retorts.

Great….what a wasted opportunity, she thought.  And after spending weeks pumping her gym partner, Dr. Chase Meridian, for hints on how to seduce the Batman.  She hoped a lot of anti-Joker diatribes would get her in a perilous situation…and his rescue.

"Daph!  Are you there?"  Fred's voice bayed out through the intercom.  "Batman said you were in trouble.  I'm coming up to rescue you!"  She heard the sound of him crashing through the downstairs door, then thudding rapidly up the stairs.

Guess the night's not going to be a total loss in the nice rescue department, she mused as he stumbled down the hallway toward her.  Her sometimes less-than-super hero would do.
Batman has saved many a damsel-in-distress. Will he save the bound and gagged Daphne Blake from the Scooby gang in time, or will the Joker give her a ticklish torture? Art by Barney F. Brazil. The art accompanies the story "Jokes and Other Gags""
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Ice Princesses…On Ice

by Barney Brazil

"This Sports Section Update…as the Winter Olympics reaches its climax, the much anticipated rivalry in the women's figure skating event is about to begin," announced Kevin Oswald.  "You will recall the epic matchup between Russian World Champion Galina Titov and her American Rival Daphne Blake last year."  

Oswald nodded to former figure skating champion Patti Flaherty of Canada , who snorted in mild disgust.  "Last year at the World Championships in Zurich , the redheaded American newcomer had captured the technical short-program, but finished second as Galina put on a show, getting judges to overlook missing a few jumps with her oft-criticized flirtative glances and gestures at the judges."

"Critical remarks by Miss Blake after the awards ceremony, and Miss Titov's bitter reply have led journalists to name this battle "The New Cold War," Oswald noted.

"Folks love nothing more than a chick fight!" said Billy "Moose" Cargale, a former hockey player more notable for his racy deodorant ads that were repeatedly fined by the FCC for lewdness.  "People can't stop watching their practices to see if the claws will come out, or if the gals will start pulling hair."

Flaherty ignored her rude guest commentator, wondering for the thousandth time how the boor got the job for the women's game, but then proceeded to do her piece.  "This week has been a repeat of Innsbruck .  Miss Blake clearly outpointed the Russian in the technical program, making all of her proficient jumps, choreographic her routine precisely to Tchaikovsky's Nutcracker…."

"But some feel that her performance is lacking in charm and warmth," the glass-eyed Oswald interrupted.

"The gal's like an ice princess," Moose picked up the theme.  "She's totally hot, but she barely smiles.  And her skirt's longer than any other woman's…"

Patti Flaherty exploded with rage.  "It's not a beauty contest or a stripper club!  It's a competition where the athletes execute…."

"But you've got to win over the judges…" Oswald countered....

Daphne switched off the radio, unable to take it any longer.  That was all anyone wanted to talk about.  How it would be a battle between her grace and pursuit of perfection against her competitor's willingness to flash a smile, or any other part of her, to "win over the judges," as Oswald put it.  But the night before the competition, she had made a few choices.  Her Danish coach recommended a switch from the sedate recording of the Nutcracker Suite to a more upbeat version by the Trans-Siberian Orchestra.  And while she glided smoothly to the Arabic Dance routine, and jumped higher for the Russian segment, she had the sense that she'd come up short.  While practicing, she had seen Galina's costume.  It looked like it was perpetually on the verge of a wardrobe malfunction!  That's all the judges would remember, not whether she did the whole routine flawlessly, as she did in Austria .

The locker room door opened and SHE walked in.  At first, the Russian brunette pretended not to notice her rival, but then eventually made her way over to the American.  What cameras wouldn't give for this moment, she thought.  A pity that they were alone for the media.

"Miss Blake," Galina said in her accented Russian, sounding much like a cartoon version of a character like Natasha from the Rocky and Bullwinkle Show."

"Yes Galina."  The reply was formal, stiff, and forced.

"I have thought of way to keep final from being fight," she responded.  Daphne noticed how Russians never said "a" or "the," making them sound a little blunter, less crafty."

"How do you propose to do that?" she asked, wary of any suggestion.

But what she was unprepared for was the hand that clamped over her mouth from behind.  A second hand clasped her wrist, jerking her left arm behind her back.  The thick gloved hand shoved a handkerchief into her mouth, then proceeded to pin her other hand behind her back with its mate.  Galina folded  her arms, smiling approvingly.

Daphne, however, wasn't as willing to give up without a fight.  She kicked back with her skate on her attacker's shin.  If he hadn't been wearing a hockey player's pads, he would have collapsed in pain.  As it was, he grunted in anger at the blow, then yanked her arms back harder, forcing her muffled cries into the thick wad in her mouth.

"Let me get her wrists!" Galina insisted, pulling them in front.  "You tie her ankles!"

The kidnapper expertly bound her legs with a cord, while Galina knotted her wrists together, then spun her around.  It was a hockey player in a Russian uniform, with a face seemingly made of ice, with eyes and mouth attached.  He picked up the helpless American, executing a fireman's carry toward a set of lockers while Galina tugged at a lock.  Three swung open as a unit, creating enough space to lead to a small room, complete with additional lockers, a television set, a small amount of food, a pair of benches, and a cot.

"Welcome to your private suite, Miss Blake," Galina cackled.  She pushed her American rival into a sitting position on the bench.  The Russian ice hockey monster proceeded to bind her wrist ropes to her thighs, so she couldn't reach up to get rid of the wad of cloth in her mouth.

"You know, Nicolai, she could still spit out handkerchief and cry for help," Galina observed.

"I have no more cloth," the Russian ice hockey monster named Nicolai grunted.  "What do you have in mind?"

"This!" Galina sang with a wicked smile on her face.  She tore Daphne's long purple skirt around until it barely covered anything.  Then she wound it several times around Daphne's mouth, knotting it behind the nape of her neck so tightly that the captive could barely mumble her obvious displeasure.

"She make beautiful hostage for you, eh Nicolai," Galina said sweetly, looking over at the furious redhead.  "She looks, as they say in America 'fit to be tied?'"  She laughed at her own joke as Nicolai frowned behind her."

"Something missing," he mused.

"What is missing?" Galina asked him.  "You have the money, the girl, and…my gratitude," she leaned forward, exposing herself somewhat to the large ice hockey monster.  "What more do you need?"

"Another one."

"Wha-" Galina began to reply, but the full reponse was drowned out by the glove that covered Galina's mouth.  Momentarily stunned, Nicolai had affixed a gag over her lips before she began to struggle.  But she was no match for her strong fellow countryman.  In a few minutes, her own ankles were tied tightly.  Her wrists were also knotted, with ropes tying them to her thighs so that she resembled Daphne's predicament.  Galina's eyes were a mixture of shock, anger and pleading.

"My dear Miss Titov," Nicolai began.  "You are expert kidnapper, helping me plot disappearance of American figure skater down to last detail.  But now I have your money, two captives to ransom, and gratitude of German figure skater Helga Vitter."

Both women mewed into their gags in disbelief.

"Oh, Miss Vitter does not know of my little plot.  But when she win gold, she and I will celebrate, while world follows great story of famous kidnapping."

Then Nicolai smiled.  "Maybe I will have three wives….one for public, two in private basement."

Both women furiously tugged at their bonds, yelling insults into their gags, which made Nicolai bellow with laughter.  "Now it is time for me to see my future wife practice, as she will become new Olympic champion."  He switched on the television and radio to the Sports Section coverage, as speculation began to build about the two ladies' whereabouts, each last seen at a final practice before the next night's long program competition.

The next morning, Nicolai Romanov visited them in their private prison, showing them the headlines that confirmed their disappearance was front-page news.  After snapping a photo with the two confirming the date, he continued to mock them before heading out "to get a good seat" for that night's final skating match of the Olympics.

Throughout the day, the two ladies glared at each other, each casting the other a venomous look.

Behind her angry expression, Galina felt somewhat badly.  It's my fault we're both here, she thought.  I just wanted Daphne bound and gagged during the match, so I could win.  And I trusted Nicolai.  Men are pigs!  Now both us may never be seen again.  She couldn't determine whether alive or dead would be preferable in the hands of the hulking hockey player.

Daphne's glowering also hid a touch of remorse.  If only I hadn't spoken my mind after the last match, we wouldn't have become such bitter rivals.  Gradually, her gaze became more sympathetic, understanding how betrayed Galina felt, confident that she hadn't really meant to hurt her, just win, and the consequences were more severe than she bargained for.

Presently, the competition began.  Both intently watched, glancing over at each other, making sounds through their gags about each skater's performance.  Presently, Galina's eyes bulged as she saw Daphne hop over to her and set next to her on the bench.

Though her words were muted, Galina seemed to understand.  Daphne was motioning her to untie the knot securing her wrists and legs.  But the Russian hesitated.  What if she would free herself, and race back to the competition, leaving her tied up and helpless.

"Um ern!" Daphne insisted.  "Rih ert u oos!"

Galina looked over at the television.  Liu Baojang, a competent Chinese skater, had delivered a nearly flawless program.  Miss Vitter was warming up.  If they didn't get loose in a few minutes, both would be disqualified.  They wouldn't have a chance.  She reached out, and fumbled with the knot, digging her nails into it.

Just then, the locker door rattled and she jumped back.  Their captor had returned, and both she and Daphne were still tightly bound.  They had failed.

Good evening, Miss Titov and Miss Blake," Nicolai grinned in spite of his costume.  "I just thought I'd watch Miss Vitter win gold, before you two disappear into sports history."

All her anger at being jilted and betrayed welled up in Galina, and she lashed out with her bound ice skates, which connected sharply with his shins.  The hockey stick fell from his hand.

"You little…" Nicolai wheeled around, prepared his hand to cuff her across her face.

But no sooner had his hand swung toward her face that it stopped in mid-motion.  The hockey stick now resided in Daphne's bound hands.  But the wrists were not bound to her thighs…Galina had freed her American rival, and the redhead gave a swing that would give her a game's suspension for high-sticking!  Nicolai was out cold.

The Russian figure skater squealed in delight as Daphne hopped over…still bound above her ankles.  She untied Galina's wrists, and ankles, then helped the woman remove her gag.  Presently, she pulled the purple makeshift gag from her own skirt down, then unbound her own wrists and ankles.  Both embraced as friends.

A roar from the television made both swing their heads and turn.  Miss Vitter, having tripped on her own lederhosen as a skate caught it, fell on her bottom, and bawled in frustration, barely able to get up and finish her ruined routine.

Galina whipped out the door with Daphne close behind.  Both had been sisters for their rescue, but now it was every girl for herself!

The crowd exploded as both spun out of the locker room and onto the stage.  A startled skating official could barely contain himself as he motioned for Galina to begin her routine.  Daphne, the winner of the short-program, and scheduled to skate last, made back to the first row of the rink to watch….

"What a night…what a night!" Kevin Oswald marveled.  "I don't know what was more stunning at first…Miss Vitter's fateful stumble, or Galina Titov taking her routine to a new level…."

"She turned doubles into triples and triples into quadruples," Patti Flaherty gushed admiringly.  "Her jumps were flawless.  And that variation of the 1812 Overture…."

Moose interrupted her.  "Man, that was nothing compared to those hips, those jugs, that…."

"Please Mr. Cargale!" the former figure skater snapped.  "Have some decency!"

"After her program, I didn't know whether to write a score or drop a few $100 bills in her…" he guffawed.

The television censor made a motion and a bleeping sound cut off the hockey player's final word.  The director motioned to Kevin Oswald to continue.  "It was a repeat of her world championship performance in Innsbruck …."

And Galina bowed down to the audience in general, and the judges in particular, knowing they would hand her the crown, and the medal.  As she skated off the rink, with a final twitch of her hips, a collective gasp from the crowd made her spin around and gape in shock.  No…it couldn't be!  What had the American done…wait…it was her own fault!

"But then it was Miss Blake's turn," Oswald told the record-setting audience.  "And she…she…."

"Her program was technically proficient, as with all of her performances," Ms. Flaherty pointed out, trying to shift focus from the obvious.  "And the new version of the Nutcracker Suite really got everyone's attention

"Are you kidding me Patti?!" Moose bellowed.  "That purple thing she wore…where did she get that MICRO- MINI !"

"I…I couldn't take my eyes off her," Oswald admitted.

"Neither could the judges," Flaherty sniffed indignantly.  "I suppose she deserved the gold for her performance, but I wished she didn't stoop to the level of Galina Titov to get it.  I guess she figured that little 'gag' would upstage Galina."

The Russian buried her hands in her face, the silver medal pressed against her chest that would offer little consolation.  "That 'gag'" the American announcer had said.  If she only knew how Daphne had come across that revealing outfit, how the Russian figure skater was responsible for her own defeat.  "Looks like joke is on Galina," she wept.
"Daphne finds herself bound and gagged, and right next to her rival, Galina Titov. Galina originally paid the Hockey Ghost to get rid of her American adversary, but he double-crossed her and abducted both figure skaters. Will both girls escape in time to compete, or will both ice princesses be put "on ice" permanently?
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by Barney F. Brazil

"Hey Daphne!" Lisa Van Hoff beamed.  "Isn't it great…celebrating my 21st Birthday in my own personal hotel?"

Daphne shuddered, but it had little to do with her skimpy nightgown.  "Yeah, but wish it was…located a little closer to town.  You know…we could take the ferry back to that bar near the wharf…."

"What…after all your mystery-solving, are you sayin you'd be a little afraid of spending a night on Great Skull Island ?" the blonde smirked.

"Well…." truth be told, the island's quirky rock base didn't freak her out so much as the memories of waking to a vampire hovered over her.  If Velma hadn't woken her…

"If it's that vampire business, don't worry," Lisa said reassuringly.  "Uncle Leon 's still in jail.  And he wanted me locked up in that coffin, not you, so he could get this hotel.  We had switched rooms, and he just mistook you for me."

Daphne nodded nervously.  But even in the darkness, he should have been able to tell…she couldn't help but think he still wanted her…

"Forget that scary night," the young hotel owner said dismissively.  "I have something better to talk about.  Remember when I used to be your roommate, before Velma?"

Daphne grinned.  Those were the days.  Instead of the bookish Miss Dinkley, it was the fellow party girl Miss Van Hoff.  "I can hardly remember a time when we didn't find the room overflowing with boys….college men!" she corrected herself, thinking of a particularly special ascot-clad fellow, who had taken Shaggy and Scooby to the football game against Central, while Velma prepped for next week's lab sessions.

The phone rang, and Lisa excused herself to pick it up.  She said nothing, but put it down a moment later.  "Wrong number" was all she had to say about it.

"Hmmm" Daphne offered, but Lisa had dropped the subject.  "I can think of a special night without the lads last year.  Remember the one time when we had a girl's night in?"

The redhead nodded.  Playing with Lisa's "Easy Bake Oven…" pillow fight…"truth or dare…."

"I asked you about what it felt like to be tied up." Lisa winked, pulling her arms behind her back reflexively.  And you remember what you did?

"Hey…that was your idea." Daphne waved her hand, as if warding off some possible guilt.

"Oh no, I thoroughly enjoyed being bound to that chair," Lisa said, in a soothing voice.  "It was the most fun I had all semester!"

"Oh," Daphne gasped slightly.  Actually, she felt rather guilty about that, given the way Lisa struggled against the ropes, squeaked for help through the handkerchief covering her mouth.  "I'm really sorry about that…"

Lisa placed her hands upon her hips, covered by a more conservative nightie, only slightly longer than Daphne's.  "Well, if you feel guilty, you can make it up to me."

"How?" Daphne asked, but seemed to know the answer.

"Well, I know what it feels like to be tied up," Lisa began, after a pause.  "But I don't know what it feels like to be the abductor."


"You wouldn't mind, would you?" Lisa pleaded.  "I mean, you've been trussed up plenty of times on your adventures."

"True…" Daphne admitted.

"And you'd be safe with me…."


"And I'd make you those blueberry muffins on the old Easy Bake," Lisa promised.

"Deal," Daphne caved.  "But no tickling…"

"Wouldn't dream of it," Lisa responded, a small golden halo seemingly appearing above her head.

Daphne sat down and crossed her arms behind her back, a little more confident than a minute before.  Don't worry, she told herself.  She's just a friend.  Besides, she couldn't remember being bound by a woman before.  You might enjoy the experience even more, she told herself.

"Wow, you came prepared," Daphne observed, as her friend produced the hank of brown rope.  First, the wrists were knotted behind the redhead's back.  Then the ankles were fastened together.  As if seeking a little insurance, her calves were bound together.

"Not taking any chances?" Daphne wondered aloud.

"If I only get to do this once in my life, I want to make sure I get it right," Lisa replied, very businesslike.

"Mmmm" Daphne hummed as she glanced over her shoulder, witnessing Lisa pulling a soft purple scarf from a drawer.  "That's very stylish."

"It's new…I bought it for this occasion," Lisa said in a dreamlike state.

"How…ah…nice…."Daphne managed, becoming a little more worried.  What did Lisa have in mind?  Suddenly, the evening's event seemed less random, and more contrived.

"Actually, I'd rather not MMMPHH!"  Quickly, her ex-roommate whipped the scarf over her mouth, pulling it taught from behind.  Daphne yelled for help, but it was too late.  She was effectively gagged.

"Dear Daphne, I'm so glad you agreed to this," Lisa said, sounding as though she had been hypnotized.  "There's someone I've been dying to introduce you to."

She tapped on a wall panel, and it slid away.  Standing there was a man with black hair, pointy ears, blue suit, and red cape.  Next to him was a coffin.

"Excellent work, Lisa" the monster grinned, sporting a pair of fangs.  "You have done well, binding this one, rendering her speechless."

"Yes…grandfather…" Lisa muttered, as if in someone else's voice.

"Hrrmmphh!" Though muzzled, Daphne had figured out the identity of her kidnapper.  It was Uncle Leon .  Lisa had lied, or was hypnotized into doing so about his presence in prison.  That phone call…it must have triggered her change in behavior.  Last time at the hotel, the redhead remembered hearing a watch alarm.  And Shaggy and Scooby said she got a phone call, then pretended to be a vampire.

But vampires didn't exist, did they? she wondered to herself, as "Uncle Leon " was almost upon her.  "Thank you for bringing this 'virgin' to my 'cubby," he hissed.

"Yes…maker…" Lisa droned on.

"She will become an excellent 'maker child,'" the Vampire leered at her.

"Unghhh!" Daphne managed.  Is Lisa a "Bloodhead" or "Fang-Banger?"  I must stop watching "True Blood," she admonished herself.

Lisa helped her uncle untie the knot binding Daphne to the chair.  They set her down in the coffin, as Daphne wiggled frantically, trying to escape.

"You may go now, my dear," he motioned as Lisa bowed, then walked out of the room.

Once she left, Leon turned to her.  "You meddlers cost me this hotel.  I ran it for years, yet Lisa got it in the will…it's not fair.  Tomorrow, she'll sign the papers over to me, then occupy the coffin next to you, bound and gagged just the same."

He moved closer to Daphne, and whispered softly.  "As for you, my spoiled rich heiress, I happened to read about your parent's fortune in Blake's Bubble Bath.  They'll pay dearly to get you back.  And if your friends try to interfere, they'll never see you again."

Daphne shook her head, eyes pleading for him to free her, but all he did was clang the coffin shut.  "You and your friends sent me to prison… see how you enjoy it!"  Even with the heavy oak lid, he thought he could still here her muffled cries for mercy.

After what seemed an eternity, the coffin lid opened.  She had been playing mental games with herself between struggles to get loose, like trying to think about who won the Oscar for Best Actress last year, or who how many boys she kissed in high school, or how many times she had been bound-and-gagged….

"Danger-Prone Daphne" the voice of the familiar Fred Jones rang out.

"Mmmphhh!!!" Daphne managed in relief as Fred hauled her out of the coffin.  As usual, he seemed to prefer leaving the gag on for last, knowing how it irritated her.  But this was no time for…"

"Don't worry Daph, Velma's getting Lisa out." Shaggy added, as Fred worked on her ties.  The bespectacled gal was patting the cheek of her ex-roommate, with her hands bound underneath her, sporting a gag jammed between her teeth.

"As a matter of fact, Fred spotted the vampire leaving," Velma told her.  "The cops will have Uncle Leon picked up in no time.

Over dinner, the gang began asking for details about the abduction.  Lisa and Daphne exchanged nervous glances, offering some vague story about being ambushed in their sleep.

"Hey Daph, want to play a game?" Fred asked, when they were alone after dinner.


"Truth or Dare?" he replied, with a devilish grin.

To his surprise, she nodded in assent.  "Flip of a coin?" she inquired.  "To see who goes first," she explained.

As the coin flew in the air, it bounced twice before landing on heads.  "So," he smiled widely "How DID one vampire manage to abduct two headstrong women?"

Daphne turned a bright crimson.  Reluctantly, she told the real tale of bedroom bondage games, noting how Fred seemed quite interested in the details.

"And now for my turn," she said, eager for her chance to make her boyfriend squirm.

"Ask away," he replied confidently.

"So why were YOU able to arrive here this evening?  Weren't you supposed to have the others with you at a game?"

Now it was Fred's turn to stammer.  "You promised," she insisted.  "A deal's a deal.  Why were you here tonight?"

The blond blushed.  "Promise you won't get mad?"

She considered.  Usually when he said that, it WAS going to be something that made her mad.  "Okay, I promise not to get mad.  Why did you show up tonight?"

"Panty Raid!" he grinned.  Suddenly a shoe flew out across the room, smacking him in the forehead.

"Daph!  You promised you wouldn't get mad!"

"Mad?" she shot back.  "I didn't get mad.  I got EVEN!"
Daphne is once again bound and gagged. But this time, it's her hypnotized former college roommate Lisa who is responsible. Can the girls get away before the vampire has them locked up in coffins for good?
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Were You Really Kidnapped By The Werewolf?

by Barney F. Brazil


The redhead slammed her cell phone so hard that it almost split in half.  Not that it would have mattered.  "I can't believe this….must've been the fifth time I've tried to call him today!" she screamed to herself.  Where could he be?  This is how it had been for weeks, no months!  Always showing up late…nd never where she could catch him just to be reassured that it would be just a few minutes…or even a few hours.


I just wish, for once, I could have him worry about me, Daphne wondered.  Then he could see what I have to put up with, pacing around my apartment, wondering if he's been in a motorcycle crash or waylaid by some crook.  But what could I do?  Would he even notice if I disappeared…she contemplated, afraid to determine the truth.


Got it…he's always been more attentive to me when I've been nabbed by some ghost than when I'm safe and secure.  But real peril would be…well…to perilous.  But if I made him think I was in distress…that's it!  And those new purchases from Carlotta's should do the trick.


A few minutes later, her slender form had slid into a sexy slip from the expensive lingerie shop.  The camcorder she got from her Aunt Olivia was on its tripod, the red light indicating that the recording session had begun.  Next, it would be up to the silk scarves to do the trick.   The redhead began by binding her ankles with one of the red purchases as she sat in a chair.  Confident that her legs had been effectively bound, she moved to her favorite part: the gag.  After debating whether the black scarf would look sexier over her mouth or between her lips, she opted for the latter.  He's seen me before enough times the other way, she mused as the cloth was wedged between her teeth.  The new way would look…more unique.  A moment later, another red scarf secured her torso to the chair.  There was no need to bind her wrists…just holding them behind her body would be enough.  But just in case, she grasped the second black scarf in her hands, on the off chance her blond boyfriend could see them behind her back.  It was too perfect.


Of course, the impersonal camera would continue to roll, but that could be fixed.  I'll just delete all of the tying up scene after I'm done.  With the day's newspaper headline next to her chair to indicate a professional kidnapping, the "hapless" heroine of the small screen writhed and twisted against her bindings, as if trying to get free.  For good measure, she growled and mewed into the scarf, as if trying to let out something…a warning or a clue.  Would she make a ransom demand?  Or would it be enough to squirm against her predicament, leaving the implication clear.  Without a voice modulator…

And would she hide out in her parent's mansion, knowing they were away at Niagara for the weekend?  Or perhaps a hotel in the next town would be best to ensure no unexpected visits from her man, until he was good and concerned…


*Crinkle* The quiet sound of glass breaking, followed by slightly greater commotion cause her to freeze.  What was that?  It didn't sound like Fred, she thought, heart pounding in her chest.  Could it be….

There was no time to think…she really was in danger!  Quickly, she dropped the black scarf and reached for the knot from the red scarf behind her back.  But with a clawed hand grabbing her wrist, she realized it was too late.  While she whimpered into her gag, the beast pinned her wrists behind the chair, tying her up so that she really was helpless this time.  A final tug from her captor made her wince and bleat into the gag.  But instead of immediately gloating or further securing her body to her place of captivity, he began ransacking the room, as if searching for a key object.


As he had his back to her, the creature went on with his work unmolested.  But after ten minutes of futile searching, he whirled around the great his prey.  She flinched and murmured into her gag.  It was the Wolfman…Silas Long…or at least the ghost of him, according to his gravestone.


"I was hoping to search for the evidence you snoopers used to indict me," he growled into a raspy voice.  Then his mood brightened considerably.  "However, I now have a lovely lady, who would an excellent hostage with whom I may exchange for the map, wool and rubber tubing, which was used to convict me of sheep rustling." he pointed out.


Daphne shook her head, partially obscuring her face with her vehement unspoken denunciation.  But Silas long just laughed.


"And thanks to you, my sweet, this kidnapping will be the easiest ever.  While I have you in my custody at my old lair, your nosy friends can retrieve the evidence against me from the police locker.  When my lawyer files his appeal, the case is bound to be tossed out against me."


He went over to the camera, then tossed out the tape.  "Now it's your turn to star in my production at my own…private studio.  He chuckled as he picked her up, stuffed the camcorder in his sack, and took her to a waiting car, where an unpleasant journey in his trunk awaited.


Several hours later, Daphne shut her eyes, seeking to avoid the camera's gaze while Silas made his demands, even flashing the day's date for the newspaper in front of the lens.  The old mill was as dark and dingy as ever.  Now Silas Long was jabbering toward the camera with his ransom demand.  "…not at that location by sundown tomorrow, Miss Daphne will never be seen again."


As he shut off the camera and turned toward her, he grinned.  "Of course, I can't have you go loose to tell the police about your kidnapping ordeal with me.  It looks as though you'll be my hostage for a considerably longer period of time.  I'd send you up the river in the barrel, but then I'd have to undo the gag to enable you to breathe through the tube.  Guess you'd better get used to traveling in my car trunk."


"You…you…monster!" she gurgled unsuccessfully through the scarf between her teeth.


"Now be sweeter, or I won't leave a pillow and comforter in there…"


At that moment, the door to the mill burst open.  Fred, Velma, Shaggy and Scooby bounded in.  The wolfman temporarily froze in his tracks, then lunged toward his bound prize.  But Fred threw his shoulder into Silas Long's solar plexus, knocking the air from the captor.


As Fred finished off the creature with a last punch, Velma pulled the gag from her friend's lips, earning an appreciate "Thank you, thank you again.  I don't know how you solved the mystery so fast."


"Actually, you have your boyfriend to thank," Velma admitted as Shaggy pulled the red scarf from her waist.


"I do?" the redhead gasped.  "How did he do it?"


How did Fred figure it out?  Look below to solve the mystery.















Velma winked at Daphne as Fred came over to undo the knot fastening her legs to the chair.  She pulled Shaggy and Scooby aside, then said "the villain must have had a hideout, including a stocked fridge.  See if you can sniff it out."


"With pleasure," Shaggy beamed, chasing after Scooby who had already begun the search.  She waved her hand to demonstrate her genius and giving the two some quality time, proceeding to engage the sheriff and his deputies in an animated conversation.


"I don't get…" she began in a hushed tone.


"I found the tape you left, where the monster surprised you," Fred pointed out.  "He said something about taking you to his hideout.  And the only sheep rustling werewolf we ever encountered lived at the old mill."  


"He must have escaped from prison over the weekend to steal the evidence…or kidnap you to make us do it for him," Fred continued.  "Once he was back in jail, he would get his lawyer to reopen the case, then get it dropped for lack of evidence.  Nobody would ever find you…."


"…Uh, Freddie…" Daphne blushed furiously.  "You didn't, uh, see…."


"The first part? Yeah!  I did!  So what was…."


The redhead turned the color of her crimson scarves.  "Just wanted to, uh, spice things up a little…"


Fred tossed his coat over her shoulders.  "Just save that little outfit and those scarves, and I'll see what I can do to keep you on your toes…or off of them!" he whispered slyly.


Great, Daphne thought to herself as her beau escorted her from the room.  Between the wolfman and the wolf dressed in sheep's clothing, there would be no need to fake an abduction anytime soon.
And the accompanying fanfic: "Were you really kidnapped by the Werewolf?"
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Speak No Evil

by Barney F. Brazil

"Okay Velma, since you wanted to be a team captain, you pick first," Fred declared.

Without hesitation, the bespectacled co-ed blurted "Daphne!"

The blond hesitated.  Wha-wait….wasn't she supposed to pick Shaggy?  I though she had a…a thing for him, Fred wondered to himself.  Besides, doesn't she know the rules.  Daphne and I are supposed to go together.  But the redhead bounded over to join her roommate.

Shaggy or Scooby, he thought to himself.  Shaggy was a good fast runner…a track man…and a swinging gymnast, according to Daph.  But he needed a good nose that would track a villain, not a French Dip roast beef sandwich first.

"Scoob" he said, with a bit of reluctance, his original preference being obvious.

Shaggy shrugged his shoulders, then headed over to the gals.  He couldn't tell whether Daphne missed Fred, or preferred to have it a girls-only team, but that was the way the picks went.  Besides, it was time to head inside the abandoned airfield to search for the Spooky Space Kook.

"Man, this mess hall is like a real mess!" Shaggy observed as they entered the next building.

"Brilliant deduction Holmes," Velma wisecracked, and Daphne snickered in response.

"There's a lot of area to cover," Daphne pointed out.  "Maybe we could each look in a different area."

"I got the kitchen!" Shaggy bellowed, then took off before Velma could object.  She shrugged, and looked over to the leggy college student.

"Take the top floor?" she offered, hoping the redhead would take her up on it.  Those stairs looked like a lot of work for her chubby little legs."

"Okay," Daphne grinned.  "I like the top."  Both giggled at the little joke.

Velma crept through the gloom.  Given what they saw earlier, the Spooky Space Kook would be easy to spot, even in the growing darkness.  The light blue outfit, the red flashing lights, the cackling skull…it would be easy.

Of course, it was likely to be some guy in a monster suit.  But on the tiny remote chance it wasn't, where could he be from?  Most dime store novels that Shaggy read believed it was always some alien from Mars, but she began to wonder whether Saturn's moon Titan was a more likely….

BANG!  Her skull exploded as a searing pain erupted at its base.  The glasses flew off her face and she fell forward into the blackness….

"Velma?" Daphne called out.  She was most of the way up the stairs, and thought she heard a noise across the dark room.  No response.  Nerves, she thought to herself.  Her roommate would probably give her that old lecture about "there's no such thing as ghosts" in that professorial tone if she were there.  Rather than risk another scolding, Daphne timidly continued upstairs.  Besides, if Velma got in any REAL trouble, like losing her glasses, she'd call out for help.

Shaggy checked the fridge for the fifth time, but nothing was there.  This ghost is all wet, he observed.  Usually, he and Scooby would find a chicken, or burger…even a ham bone.  But no such luck.  The only thing he'd prefer was….

…Wait, was that there before?  He couldn't believe what he was seeing.  It was a small portable box.  Normally, it wouldn't mean much, but those headphones extending from it meant….

"Music, man!"  he said to no one in particular.  As they slid over his ears, a press of a button revealed that he was correct, as psychedelic tones flooded his ears.  "Groovy Tunes" he exclaimed, jiving to the last music spun by Casey Kasem himself….

As she reached the top step, there were few options.  A door in front of her was slightly ajar, while a hallway led down to a close, with darkness obscuring what was likely another room.  To her right, a light was coming from under a closed door.  Since it was the only sign of life, she moved toward it.  Gritting her teeth, she hoped it wasn't something terrible.

The knob turned.  The door opened.  Inside was a bedroom, with a candle glowing atop a nightstand.  Her eyes were drawn to the bright light in the dark room, and she moved closer to it.  Why was it lit?  What did it mean…"

SLAM !  The door closed suddenly behind her, leading her to spin around.  But she was no longer alone.  The eerie wail signified the laugh of the ghost.  The skull glared eagerly at you.

"What are you?  What do you want?" she managed, sounding braver than she really felt.

"I see you weren't intimidated by my costume, the way I hoped, Blake" he began.  "I expected you to swoon, making my job a little easier.  Oh well, no problem."

He knows my name, she thought with a rising panic.  Then again, a lot of people knew the wealthy heiress-turned college reporter.  "What are you planning on doing," she repeated.

"Kidnapping you, of course," he said matter-of-factly.

"You sound rather confident in your abilities," she responded, preparing her body pose and hands as if readying for a martial arts tournament.

"Well, I do have my options," he said, pulling out what looked like a billy club.  Her heart sank.  She really didn't know judo from her jewelry.  She had only tried to bluff him.  "There's no need to do that," she said quietly, adopting a less aggressive pose.  Her legs came together, and she clasped her hands together

"Prove it to me, my dear," he insisted.  "Put your hands behind your back."

She complied with his request reluctantly, turning her back to him.  Quickly, rope secured her wrists tightly, though not painfully.  Must be an expert, she thought ruefully, as he secured her legs in much the same manner.

"And now, to keep you quiet, Blake," he continued, reaching for a bottle from the dresser.

"I…uh…won't say anything," she pleaded.  "I would prefer it if you wouldn't use that on me."

He paused, as if considering her request.  "Perhaps that scarf will do the trick."

"Uh…er…" she stammered, as he slowly unwound it from her neck.  "It's…a special kind of silk…."

"…And you don’t want any of that lipstick on it, Blake" he guessed, rolling it into a thin band.  "Always the priss…"

"Ah…yeah…" she managed, not sure what she really wanted to say.

"Well, then, part those pouty little lips of yours," he grinned.

Her eyebrows arched, and her face reddened, but she opened her mouth ever so slightly.  The man dressed as the Spooky Space Kook jammed it tightly between her teeth, knotting it behind her head.

Now say something, so I know the gag works," he insisted.

She glared at him, remaining silent.

"That's right," he smirked.  "Just stand there and look pretty, Blake."

"Yrmphmphmrerph!" she muttered through her teeth.

"Much appreciated," the man's voice responded.  "After years of waiting, I finally possess you."

Years of waiting, she thought.  What did he mean by that?

He flipped a switch, giving an eerie squeal of laughter.  

"I suppose you expect your friends to rescue you," the villain began in a mocking tone.  Well Jones, suckered by all those alien conspiracy theories, and that dumb mutt ran off after a remote-controlled jeep.  That silly hippie Rogers is jiving to music, while the braniac Dinkley should be out cold."

"Eff..urf…haraph!" she mumbled nervously.  Suddenly, it hit her.  Now I know who the space alien is, she realized, recognizing the voice and tone.  But how can I let others know?

As they headed down the stairs and through the mess hall, Daphne grimly observed Shaggy dancing about, eyes closed in his own world, oblivious to her peril.  Meanwhile, a woozy Velma crawled around vainly searching for her glasses.

"I've got the set all in one room….hear no evil" he said, pointing at Shaggy, "see no evil" he jerked his thumb in Velma's direction "and you, my dear, who shall speak no evil."  His maniacal laughter drowned out Daphne's muffled cries for help.

Outside the door, he found himself surrounded by the Sheriff, his deputies, and their squad cars.  Fred stood next to the lead officer and his squad car, while Scooby looked triumphant.  The space alien reluctantly set Daphne down on her pumps and raised his hands in surrender.

"Hey, you found the Spooky Space Kook" Shaggy managed, stumbling out the door.  He looked a little guilty, wearing headphones.

"And Daphne too," Velma observed, following right behind, having regained her glasses.

"But who is the Spooky Space Kook?" the Sheriff demanded.

"I'll bet it was Old Man Withers," Shaggy offered.

"It might be Henry Bascum" reasoned Velma.

"Or his gun crazy neighbor" guessed Fred.

" MMM !  MMPH!!  MMPHHH!" Daphne demanded, hopping up and down.

"Hey, for once, Daph might know the answer," Velma laughed, observing her friend's gyrations.

"May as well take the gag out," Fred offered.  "She won't be satisfied unless she can finally solve a mystery."

Daphne glared angrily at her tormentors, before Fred reluctantly sauntered in her direction.  "Promise you won't break the sound barrier with any screaming?" he asked.  She stopped jumping around, but there was no mistaking the seething look.

As Fred pulled the scarf from her lips, the redheaded reporter blurted out…..

"Redd Herring!"

"What?" Fred gasped.

"I knew it was him.  He knew our identities, though we never met him before.  He called us by our last names.  He referred to Scooby as a dumb mutt, just like Redd did.  He knew about your obsession with aliens.  And I finally recognized his voice."

"So why'd he do it?" the Sheriff asked.

"Probably knew this airbase would be shut down," Velma wagged her finger.  "So he figured he would chase everyone else off, and buy the land dirt cheap."

"Ha," Redd Herring mocked.  "It just shows you're not as smart as you think."

Shaggy shook his head.  "Then why?"

"Ever since we were kids, Fred's been accusing me of nearly every crime," Redd Herring responded.  "Folks just started suspecting me of everything.  So I thought I'd get even by abducting his girlfriend.  I'd hold her hostage until Fred admitted that he was wrong about everything he claimed I did."

Fred's jaw dropped.  "And I knew I could get him to drag the gang out here by pretending to be a space alien," Redd Herring continued.

"Well, it's jail for you," the Sheriff snapped, dragging the curly red-haired man to his car.

"But just you wait, Blake," Redd Herring warned.  "I'll be back for you."

"Say Fred," Daphne whispered into her boyfriend's ear as he bent down to untie her legs.  "Next time we split up, let's go back to the old system."

"But we found fewer clues that way." Fred blushed.

"Exactly," she grinned knowingly.
The story (also by Mr. Brazil) is titled "Speak No Evil" and accompanies "Daphne vs Spaceman."
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"Beach Blanket Bondage"
by Barney Brazil

"Oh, the sign says fortune teller!  I want to have my fortune told!"  The redhead hopped off her bike, bouncing up and down excitedly in the Hawaiian heat.

"Daphne, tarot cards, crystal balls, and having your palm read have been scientifically proven…." Velma began, but Fred waved her off.

"Aw, c'mon Miss Scientist.  Let her have a little fun."  He smiled at his stunning companion, dressed with a strapless purple swimming top, a lilac sarong that concealed purple bikini briefs, and a light purple floppy hat to shade her eyes.

The bespectacled woman relented as the redhead did a jump for joy.  "Okay, Freddie.  If Daphne wants to be a little daffy…."

"Why don't you meet us back at the luau at six?" Fred offered.  "You know Shag and Scoob will get an early start, and that will let Velma and I finish our tour of the Volcano museum."

"Deal," Daphne grinned, giving a 'thumbs up' to her blond friend and brunette pal as she made her way up the slope toward the shack.  "I promise not to be late this time."

"That's what you think," a voiced chuckled inside.

"Come in, come in, child," the old crone cawed.  "Auntie Mahina knows all….sees all."  

The woman in the bright purple muumuu shuffled over toward the table, covered with a thick cloth bearing a Hawaiian print.  On the top was a white bowl with a strange greenish gray powder.

"Is my destiny in that powder?" the college co-ed wondered aloud.

"In a manner of speaking," the brittle voice seemed to stifle a laugh.  Gaze into the formation left by the sands of time, and tell me what you see.

Daphne leaned in to gaze closely at the bowl.  "I don't see…."

At that moment, the elderly woman suddenly blew the powder into the young lady's face.  She coughed for a second, as her vision became hazy.  "What did you do…." but she had already slumped from her chair.  "Auntie Mahina" caught her a second before she would have hit the floor.  "Sleep well, youthful one.  A new life will begin for you."

Revenge will be sweet, thought Jonathan Sims as he took out a pair of handcuffs.  Years earlier, he had worked out an elaborate scheme to frighten native Hawaiians out of their villages by dressing up as a Witch Doctor, riding a statue of Mono Tiki Tia.  It enabled him to scoop up a number of valuable pearls.  That was, until his last tour busted his operation, leading 5-0 to bust him for fraud.  But the right judge and right jury helped him escape a lengthy sentence.  Still, his arrest made it difficult to get a job on any of the islands….at least one that would earn him as much as he got through ill-gotten gains.

But he had enough time to hatch out a plot that would give him the money he needed and slake his thirst for revenge against those who exposed his actions.  Access to his old files showed that among the group, Daphne Blake was clearly the richest.  The heiress would get a fortune upon the passing of her parents, making her an excellent target.  It didn't hurt that she was a knock-out in the looks department, he mused, stuffing a wad of cloth into her mouth.   Then it was time to stuff her into a sack, and depart the shack before the real Auntie Mahina returned from her afternoon shopping trip.

Arriving at his remote home on the opposite side of the island, he extracted the bag from his car trunk, carrying the sack with cords binding the top and bottom tightly in a fireman carry across the front lawn and into the front room, where a bizarre collection of masks, idols, and sacks in nettings dominated the shack.  Undoing one of the knots, he pulled off the burlap to reveal the bound beauty, still bound and gagged.  As her eyes fluttered awake, she easily spat out the rag.

"Now that you can speak, care to guess who I am?" he mocked the Auntie Mahina voice, only he was wearing his witch doctor costume,"

"Jonathan Sims," she said, without batting an eye.

"Pretty smart for a cheerleader, young one," he responded.  "But scream all you like.  With the ocean surf and the nearest house being miles away, no one will hear you."

"Actually, I'm more interested in making a deal with you," she responded.  Wow, for someone who just got kidnapped, she was one cool customer, Sims thought.

"As far as I can tell, you are the victim…in no position to bargain," the "Witch Doctor" laughed.

"Oh no?" Daphne countered.  "Without me, you'll never figure out how my father thinks, where he really hides his money, what his real net worth is.  Plus, as a willing hostage, I'd never identify you and claim I was blindfolded all of the time, making it easier for you to get away.  You wouldn't have to do away with me either."

"You have my attention," Sims said, after thinking it over.  "But why do you want to strike a bargain with me?"

"My parents have threatened to cut off all of my allowance if I continue dating Fred," Daphne sniffed indignantly.  "If I refuse Montgomery Worthington's marriage proposal, they threatened to write me out of the will.  I'm asking for a 50-50 split of the ransom, which is still twice as much as you'd get without knowing about daddy's secret bank accounts."

"How do I know you'll cooperate?" Sims thought out loud, sounding skeptical.

"If the police found out I was in on it, I'm just as likely to go to jail for fraud," Daphne insisted.  "They have to think you disappeared with all of it.  I'll hide my share with investments in dummy corporations, just like dear old dad taught me."

Sims regarded her proposal.  What did he have to lose?  "Okay, how do we proceed?"

"First, undo these handcuffs," Daphne began.


"If you're worried about me escaping, you can tie up my ankles first," she said reassuringly.

"You sure are pretty thorough about this," Sims noted as he knotted her delicate ankles with the clothesline from his wall.

"It's got to look pretty realistic to convince the police," she insisted.  "Plus, I've got to admit, it's kind of exciting to be a damsel-in-distress.  Now bind those wrists pretty securely," she demanded.

His hands trembled slightly.  Since his arrest, he'd used the powder to sedate a few tourists and elderly couples, depriving them of their wallets and jewelry.  But nothing was as exhilarating as this.  And she clearly seemed to enjoy it.

"Nice job with the wrist ties," Daphne spoke in a worshipful tone.  "Don't forget to bind my forearms too."

"Anything else," Sims said breathlessly when he finished his task.

"I…I…want to be gagged," she blurted out, as if admitting some deep secret.

"But the information…."

"You'll have time to come up with the first ransom note, letting him know that you got me and not to get the cops involved," Daphne reassured him.  "Then the second will follow with the specific demands."

"You've given this a lot of thought," Sims noted wryly.

"Oh I've dreamed about this moment for awhile," Daphne gasped quietly.  Then she observed the Witch Doctor forming a triangle with her violet scarf.  "Wait…what are you doing?"

"Uh…you said," Sims began, but the redhead cut him off.  "As much as I'm looking forward to this, that kind of gag only works in Hollywood, where the heroine is rendered helpless with a thin strip of cloth," his captive pointed out.  "If you really want me at your mercy, you'll roll that up and pull it between my teeth.

Sims wound the scarf into a long strip then approached her face.  "Any final words before I jam this into your mouth?"

"Don't forget my blindfold, please" she winked at him, then he parted her lips widely and said in a near whisper "I'm ready for my gag now."

He hesitated for a moment, then pulled the cloth between her lips.  Only when it was past her teeth did she bite down upon it.  As he tied the knot behind her neck, having brushed aside her hair, and letting her hat fall to the floor, he evaluated the bound and gagged beauty before him.  Man, she was amazing.  Once he figured out all she knew about her father's accounts and strategy, he would change the plans.  Instead of splitting the ransom with her, he would use the money to permanently hold her hostage, hiding her out where she could always be his captive.  

Sensing the look in his eye, she began to make muffled gasps to her gag.  "That's right, Miss Blake.  I can have the fortune, and you as my pretty prize.  And you'll tell me your family's financial secrets, or else."

Her helpless whimpers were interrupted by a crash at the door.  "Freeze, Hawaii 5-0!"  A large Hawaiian at the door pointed his police-issue .38 at the Witch Doctor, who reluctantly raised his hands.  A second officer with curly hair and fair skin stepped inside, then moved to cuff Mr. Sims.

Fred and Velma dashed inside, heading for their friend.  "Excellent job, Daphne!"  Fred said as he tugged as the knots securing her wrists and ankles.

A dark suited man with a rugged expression stepped over to the gal with glasses.  "Actually, if it hadn't been for your idea about the homing signal from your friend's sandals, we probably would have never stopped his crime wave against the tourists on these islands.  Book 'em Dan-O!"

The curly haired man nodded, pushing the mustachioed man, who had since lost his Witch Doctor mask.

Fred pulled the gag from the redhead's mouth, leading him to receive an extensive kiss from his girlfriend.  "Actually we owe it to Daphne for being the bait and distracting him so long," Fred beamed.  "For once, it wasn't Shaggy and Scooby that had to get the monster to do the chasing."

"And you chose a lovely lure," Lt. Namura admitted, eyeing her up and down.

"Want a Scooby snack as your reward?" Velma joked as her friend got to her feet.

"Only if it is made of dark chocolate," Daphne laughed.
Fanfic by barney brazil
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“Good job getting that campfire started, Scooby-Doo!” praised Shaggy.  “Now I’ll just start roasting the hot dogs for our lunch!”

“Ro, Raggy, ro,” cried out Scooby-Doo in alarm.  He jumped up and grabbed his human friend with a couple of paws.

“Relax, Scooby,” Velma told him.  She was sitting nearby, pretending to read her paperback romance, but in reality watching Freddy and Daphne dancing to the music playing on the transistor radio.  The music kept repeating the same few bars over and over again, so they kept repeating the same few moves over and over again.  “A hot dog is just a frankfurter, or a wiener!  You’ve eaten them hundreds of times!”

“Re-he-he-he-he-he!” laughed Scooby-Doo.  He and Shaggy each put a few hot dogs on long sticks, which they then held over the fire, Scooby-Doo using his tail to hold his stick.

“There is this story that the phrase ‘hot dog’ was coined by cartoonist Tad Dorgan in 1906, when he substituted ‘dog’ for ‘dachshund’ because he couldn’t spell the word,” explained Velma, “but later it was discovered that Yale students had been using that term back in the 1890’s---”

“Gosh, Velma,” interrupted Daphne as she and Freddy walked over, “just because we’re here to meet Professor Aubergine that doesn’t mean we’re back in school!”

“And that must be him now!” announced Freddy, pointing to a navy blue van with “STATE COLLEGE” printed on the sides that was slowing driving along the dusty dirt road towards them.

“Hello, Mr. Jones,” the professor greeted Freddy, after having parked his vehicle.  Dr. Egbert Aubergine was an elderly man with a mop of white hair.  He was dressed in a tweed jacket, rumpled trousers, and a bow tie which was always crooked.  “I believe you know my research assistant, Sharon Weatherby?”

“Yes, Sharon is a good friend of ours,” agreed Freddy.  “We rescued her from her wicked Uncle Stewart one time.”

“I was all tied up, and everything,” Sharon explained with a shudder.  She had long nut-brown hair, and wore a blue dress.  She stepped forward to get a hug from Freddy, but before she could she discovered that Daphne was blocking the way.

“It’s really good to see you again, Sharon,” the pretty redhead told her, and then, seeing that Sharon was trying to get around her, took a sideways step to keep pace.  “Hey, Freddy, don’t you think you’d better help the professor get his equipment out of the van?”

“I’ll get right on it!” exclaimed Freddy, as he hurried away, and opened the van’s rear doors.  “So, Professor, you are still determined to photograph some of the wildlife here in State Park, then?”

“I certainly am,” he agreed, as he held up a large camera.  “Especially the elusive Smallhand, who, I’m sure, is some sort of distant cousin of Bigfoot!  It’s not every day, you know, that a brand-new humanoid creature just suddenly shows up in nature!  The dean at the college scoffed at my suggestion this gentle woodland giant is real, and not just a hoax, but he’ll have to eat his words when I bring back proof of its existence!”

“Um, I could use a little help here,” hinted Freddy, as he started lifting some boxes.

“Oh, how thoughtless of me, Freddy,” replied Sharon, as she hurried over.  “I’ll help you with that!”

“Me too!  Me too!” shouted Daphne as she followed.  “Here, I’ll carry this,” she announced as she picked up a long electric extension cord, and then, “Oops!” as she dropped most of it on the ground.  She took a step forward to pick it up, but tripped instead.

“Eek!” she exclaimed as she tumbled down a small embankment, the cord wrapping around her as she did so.

“That’s danger-prone Daphne for you,” observed Velma.

“Mpfff,” replied Daphne from the bottom of the small ravine where she was thrashing about.  The cord was completely wrapped around her, binding her legs together, and pinning her arms against her side.  Some had also crossed her open mouth, effectively cleave-gagging her.  “Mpfff,” she repeated.

Freddy hurried down to her assistance.  “Daphne, stop struggling like that!” he ordered.  “The more you do, the more tangled it gets, and electric cord is almost impossible to unravel.  Here, Velma, could you give me a hand with this?”

Velma gave a dramatic sigh, and put down her book.  “It’s pretty amazing, really,” she observed, “how Daphne can get herself into these sorts of situations.  I mean, even when no one is trying to, she still manages to get tied up!”  Despite her words, though, she went to work helping Freddy, and they eventually managed to get their friend free once again.

“Ms. Blake!” the professor severely greeted Daphne when she embarrassedly returned to the van,  “you are supposed to be here to help me and thus receive some extra credit for your slipping biology grades, not to fool around like this!”

“Yes, professor,” agreed Daphne meekly.  “I promise it won’t happen again.”

“See that it doesn’t!” he huffed, and then directed the young people to spread out, and start the process of setting up his delicate scientific equipment.
“Mpfff,” said Daphne.

She was standing with her back against an tall wooden pole that ran from the floor up to the ceiling.  Her arms had been drawn straight back, with her wrists tied together behind the pole.  Another length of rope repeatedly crisscrossed her legs, tying them to the pole.  Finally, a large bandanna served as her gag.

“Mpfff,” said Sharon, who was tied up in a similar fashion to another pole a couple feet away, so that she and Daphne were standing side-by-side.  She glanced over at her fellow-captive, and then down at the ground in alarm, for between them there was an old mechanical clock, attached by wires to a detonator and a couple sticks of dynamite.

The door to the log cabin in which they were imprisoned suddenly burst open, as Velma, who had, quite by accident, stumbled across the old building, made her way in.  Unfortunately, before she had had a chance to see her two friends, the heavy door swung back, knocking her glasses off her face,  and causing them to dart across the floor.  “My glasses!  I can’t see a thing without my glasses!” she complained, as she got on her hands and knees, and started feeling about on the floor.

“Mpfff!” Daphne and Sharon said together.

“Oh!” exclaimed Velma, as she looked up, and saw two blurry figures.  “Is that you, Shaggy and Scooby?”


“Is that your stomachs I hear rumbling?” she asked them.  “I don’t see how you two could be hungry already, after having eaten all those hot dogs earlier, which, by the way, were supposed to be for all of us!”


“You know, if you guys would actually respond when I say something then we could have a conversation,” scolded Velma, as she continued to grope about for her missing glasses.  “I think it’s very rude the way you’re just standing there ignoring me, especially since I’m really in a bind here, and need your help!”


“I hate to say it, but your behavior is starting to really tick me off, and … oh, and what’s this?” asked Velma, as she discovered the clock.  She picked it up, and jiggled it for a minute, causing it to stop working.

“Whew!” exclaimed Daphne and Sharon, at least, as well as their gags allowed them to.

“Oh, did I break this?” asked Velma, concerned.  She jiggled it around again, and it quickly resumed its ticking.  “There, that’s better!”


“The time is completely wrong too,” Velma observed, as she felt the hands.  “Here, let me just move them forward….”


“Look out, Velma!  It’s a bomb!” shouted Freddy, who, followed by Shaggy and Scooby-Doo, had suddenly entered the log cabin.  He raced forward, and snatched up the clock, detonator, and dynamite, and hurled them all out the window.  Two seconds later there was a terrific explosion that rocked the forest.

“…and when Sharon and I entered this log cabin,” explained Daphne a few minutes later, “we saw somebody putting on the head of a Smallhand costume!  And then he turned around, and realized we had seen him, and he gave a really loud roar, and then tied both of us up!  And then he set up the bomb.”

“We only saw him from behind,” continued Sharon, “but it must have been the professor.  He hasn’t done any productive research in a while now, and I’m afraid that he decided he needed to fake this whole Smallhand business to salvage his career.  And then he tried to eliminate Daphne and me to prevent his secret from getting out.”

“And that’s the part that doesn’t make any sense,” objected Velma.  “I mean, how was it possible for two active young women to be overpowered by one frail old man?”

“That’s not important,” interjected Freddy quickly as Daphne and Sharon mumbled incoherent responses.  “The important thing is that they’re both safe.  And what we need to do now is expose the professor, by catching him while he’s actually wearing the Smallhand costume.”

“Like, how do we do that?” asked Shaggy.

“Shaggy, I’m glad you asked me that,” replied Freddy, as he laid a hand on his eccentric friend’s shoulder.  “You see, if the professor sees you dressed up as Smallhand then his scientific curiosity will get the better of him, and he’ll chase after you, and you can lead him into a trap that the rest of us will devise.”

“Like, that sounds like a really great plan, and everything, and I’d really like to go along with it,” lied Shaggy with a nervous laugh, “but, darn it all, it won’t work since we don’t have a Smallhand costume.”

“No, but there are a few old bearskins here,” announced Velma, as she held one up.  “They won’t make a real good disguise, but we’ll find some way to attach them to you, and you’ll only have to fool him for a little bit.”

“But, like, we don’t even know where to find him,” objected Shaggy, beginning to feel a bit desperate.

“Not a problem,” replied Freddy, as he held up a small swatch of black-and-white cloth.  “Lucky for us, this piece of cloth somehow got torn off the imposter’s clothing while he was in here.  I’ll just let Scooby take a sniff of this, and then he can follow his trail out of here.  Can’t you, Scooby?”

“Yeah, yeah,” agreed Scooby-Doo.

“Wait a minute, Scoob,” said Shaggy, “aren’t you forgetting that you caught a summer cold, and now you can’t smell a thing?”

“Huh?” asked Scooby-Doo, and then, catching on, “Yeah, yeah, rummer rold.  Ran’t rell ra ring,” he explained as he pointed to his nose.

“Scooby!” exclaimed Freddy.

“Gosh, Scooby, it’s too bad you’ve got a cold,” said Daphne, “because I just happen to have a box of the new and improved Scooby Snacks right here.  But you shouldn’t eat them if you’re sick.”

“Rall retter!” announced Scooby-Doo, by which he meant, “All better!”  He hurried over to Daphne’s side, and swallowed a mouthful from her hand.  He then sniffed the cloth Freddy was carrying.  “Ris ray!” he announced, and waved with a paw, as he started leading his friends through the forest.

“Scooby, you traitor!” accused Shaggy, but, as he was more afraid of being left alone than meeting Smallhand, he reluctantly slouched along behind.

“Like, maybe a camper left out a picnic basket,” said Shaggy hopefully as he and his friends passed by some picnic tables.

“What are you talking about?” asked Sharon in bewilderment.  “We’re trying to solve this Smallhand mystery, and all you can think about are abandoned picnic baskets?  I think those bearskins you’re wearing must be affecting you.”

“No, he’s like this all the time,” sighed Velma.

“Gosh, someone’s running this way!” observed Daphne.

In fact, it was several people.  “Run for your lives!” a frightened tourist shouted at them as he and his companions raced by.  “Smallhand’s on the rampage!”

“Zoiks!  Smallhand!” cried out Shaggy in terror, as he quickly shimmied up a nearby tree.

“Rallhand!” echoed Scooby-Doo, who, momentarily forgetting that he could not climb trees, followed his human friend up into the foliage.

“Shaggy!  Scooby!  Get back down here!” ordered Freddy angrily.

“Never mind them!” Velma told him, as she picked up a long length of rope.  “C’mon Daphne, Sharon!  Take a hold of this, and we’ll stretch it out here.  Then when Smallhand comes out we’ll trip him, and tie him up!”

“Oh, you mean like this?” Sharon and Daphne asked almost simultaneously, as each picked up an end of the rope.

“No, wait, you’re doing it all wrong!” corrected Velma, but it was too late.  With a mighty roar a furry creature burst into sight, and right through the rope the three damsels were holding.  There was a moment of confusion, and then, when the dust settled…

“Daphne!  Velma!  Sharon!” exclaimed Freddy.  “You were supposed to tie up Smallhand, not get tied up yourselves!”

Daphne, Velma, and Sharon were all standing shoulder-to-shoulder in a triangle, with the rope circling around and around them, so that they were hopelessly tied together.  “Daphne!  I told you that you weren’t holding that rope correctly,” accused Velma as the trio struggled to get free.

“It’s not my fault,” replied Daphne, as she twisted a bit from side to side.  This slightly loosened the rope that was binding her, but in the process tightened it around Velma and Sharon.  “I’m sure I was holding it right.  It must all be Sharon’s fault!”

“It’s not my fault either,” retorted Sharon angrily.  “This was all Velma’s stupid plan, so it’s her fault.”

“It doesn’t matter who’s fault it is,” explained Freddy, looking in alarm at Smallhand who was advancing towards him.  He glared at his adversary.  “I’m not afraid of you!”

“RARR!” answered Smallhand.

“Well, maybe I am, just a little,” conceded Freddy as he took a step backwards.

“What’s going on?” complained Sharon, who had her back to the scene.  “I can’t see!  Here, Daphne, move over, will you?”

“Ouch!  Quit it, Sharon!” answered Daphne.  “Stop pushing me.”

“But I can’t see what’s going on,” repeated Sharon as she continued pushing against Daphne, and then, “there, now I can see!”

“Yes, but now I can’t!” complained Velma.  “What’s happening?”

“Like, it sure is lucky for us that we’re safe up here, isn’t it Scoob?” asked Shaggy.

“Yeah, yeah!” Scooby-Doo agreed, and then, crack!, the large branch they were crouching upon suddenly snapped under their weight, and crashed to the earth, right on top of Smallhand, pinning him to the earth.

“RARR!” roared Smallhand, but he was hopelessly trapped.

“That serves you right, professor!” announced Freddy as he took a step forward.

“What serves me right?” asked Professor Auvergine as he stepped into the clearing, followed by a uniformed law officer.

“Professor Auvergine!  But if you’re right there, then who’s inside this costume?” asked Freddy in bewilderment.

“That’s what I want to know!” he replied.  “I was studying some of the photographs, and I realized he was a fake!  So I went and summoned the sheriff.  Impersonating a mysterious creature is a serious criminal offense, you know!  Isn’t that right?”

“Well, I don’t know about that,” replied the sheriff, “but it’s pretty clear there’s something mighty suspicious going on around here, and I intend to find out what!”

“Right!” agreed Freddy.  He walked over to Smallhand, and pulled off the mask.

“Uncle Stewart!” exclaimed Sharon.

The sheriff perked up immediately.  “Well, well!” he announced.  “Stewart Weatherby!  I heard that he escaped from prison.  But I had no idea he was behind this whole Smallhand business!  It sure it lucky you all captured him”

“Uncle Stewart!  Why did you this?” pleaded Sharon, but her uncle only held down his head in shame.

“I think I have a pretty good idea,” explained Freddy.  “After he escaped from prison, he made his way here.  He then made up this whole Smallhand hoax to scare away any campers from this site, so he would have a base of operations from which he could launch his revenge against Sharon, and us too, for having sent him to prison in the first place!  His chance came earlier than he expected, though, when he discovered we had suddenly shown up here!”

“That sounds about right,” agreed the sheriff, as he snapped the handcuffs on Stewart Weatherby.  “Come along now!  It’s back to prison for you!”

“Well, that’s the last of your equipment, Professor!” announced Freddy as he closed the rear doors of the college van.  “Too bad the Smallhand thing didn’t work out.”

“Well, that is a disappointment,” admitted Professor Auvergine, “but I just heard a startling report that there have been sightings of a huge aquatic animal in some lake over in Wales!  So I’m off right away to investigate it!”  He opened the van door.  “Well, come along Ms. Weatherby,” he ordered testily.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Professor,” Sharon replied, “but I’ve decided I’d rather stay here, and help my friends solve mysteries!”

“What?!” exclaimed Daphne and Velma.

“What, indeed!” retorted the professor.  “Are you telling me, young lady, that you’re willing to forgo this unparalleled opportunity to be a member of the scientific team that definitively establishes that natural processes have contrived to re-evolve the dinosaur, which is indubitably what this creature will prove to be upon further examination?”

“Like, what did he just say?” asked Shaggy.

“I’m sorry, Professor,” replied Sharon, “but I had a really fun time here with my friends, and I realize now that I want to spend more time with them.”

“Gosh, Sharon, I think the professor really needs your help,” said Daphne, “and I really think it would be a good idea if you went along with him.  In fact, I insist you do.”

“No, no,” Sharon answered,  “I’m definitely staying here, and … Daphne!  Velma!  Stop tying me mpfff!”

“I just wonder where you the idea, Sharon,” remarked Velma conversationally, as she and Daphne lifted their bound and gagged captive, and carried her to the front passenger’s seat of the van, where they buckled her in, “that someone so insufferably cute like yourself could just show up, and decide to join our gang!”

“Mpfff,” replied Sharon furiously.

“Well, thanks for your help, Ms. Dinkley, Ms. Blake,” acknowledged the professor as he climbed into the van.  “Really, I don’t know what I’d do if I didn’t have Ms. Weatherby around to help me.”

“And if you’ll take our advice,” suggested Daphne, “you’ll keep her tied up until you arrive in Wales!”

“Mpfff!” protested Sharon.

“That I will!” agreed the professor eagerly.  He started the engine.  “Well, good-bye, everybody!”

“Good-bye!  Good-bye!” shouted Freddy, Daphne, Velma, Shaggy, and Scooby-Doo.  They continued waving good-bye until the navy-blue van disappeared from view.
Sharon Weatherby and her Uncle Stewart are actual characters who appeared in an episode entitled “What the Hex Going On?” And yes, Sharon really did get tied up in that episode, although it is a very brief scene. Professor Aubergine is my own creation.

When I decided to write another Scooby-Doo fan fiction I wanted to keep the idea I used in my first story, which was to have Daphne get tied up over and over again, but I added to that by having Sharon get bound and gagged up as well, since I thought she made quite a charming damsel in distress. Of course, Velma has to get trussed up too.

I tried to insert of a few standards from the earlier Scooby-Doo episodes which I had not used in my first story. The first one that came to mind was how blind (and, strangely enough, hard of hearing) Velma becomes whenever she loses her glasses, which is pretty often. Another one was the amateur detectives showing up the local sheriff.

One other feature I tried to put in was the hint of romantic entanglement between the main characters. When I was young and watched the early cartoons I always assumed that Daphne was Freddy’s girlfriend, and that Velma was Shaggy’s girlfriend. Nowadays I am not so sure about that, but I do believe that Daphne would like Freddy to notice her. While he is sometimes shown as dancing with her, there are no other indications that he thinks of her as being anything other than a friend. That was in the back of my mind, and may be a helpful bit of information to the reader in understanding why Daphne acts the way she does in my story.
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Shark Bait
by Barney Brazil

The heck I’m going to be shark bait, Daphne thought, as she found herself trapped yet again.  She could feel the panic rising in her body, her chest about to explode with anxiety, unable to breathe.  Then, the Tiger Shark which had been circling where she was diving veered off in search of easier prey.  The redhead sighed in relief.  I live to solve mysteries another day, she thought.

At that moment, that gnawing fear began to return.  Why had the predator of the sea gone away?  What was it chasing?  Not Shaggy and Scooby!  But the bright sun shining through the water revealed the answer.  A luckless Yellowfin Tuna was whipping back and forth, hoping to shake its pursuer.  Looks like Shaggy and Scooby also live to solve mysteries another day, Daphne observed.

But sentiments sympathizing with Shaggy and Scooby weren’t always present on that day, Daphne mused.  While Fred and Velma attended a mystery writers’ convention, the redhead reporter offered to take the two deep sea diving on her father’s yacht.  The promise of seafood seemed to be a sufficient lure, enabling her to have a much needed partner on that day.  But while Shaggy was changing into his wetsuit, curiosity got the better of her.  She picked up his cell phone to see where she ranked on his speed dial list.

“You’ve got a lot of explaining to do,” Daphne snapped as Shaggy came up on deck, clad nearly head to toe in lime green.

“I, uh, do?” Shaggy gasped.  Scooby ducked behind his friend.

“You’ve got me at the bottom of your speed dial,” she sputtered furiously.

“I don’t have many on….” Shaggy stammered, but Daphne cut him off.  “I don’t mind being behind Fred and Velma, but you’ve got me behind your mother, Pizza Classics, Charlie’s Take-Out and Teriyaki Bowl!”


“I thought we were friends!” Daphne thundered.  “Guess I’m at the bottom of your list.  And after I agreed to take you diving.  Thanks a lot…pal!”

With that, she strapped on her mask and fins and angrily dove into the ocean.  Shaggy and Scooby looked at each other helplessly, wondering what to do.

Though the ocean was nearly clear as glass, she hadn’t spotted them following her out here.  Good, she reasoned.  The last thing I need is a lame apology or some dumb excuse, she thought.  But the sight of that Tiger Shark had her worried.  Shaggy wasn’t as experienced a diver as she was.  He might race up to the top too fast and get “the bends.”  Or the shark could come back for him if he moved to fast.  Guess I better check on the skinny guy and his dog, even if he thinks so little of me, she sniffed.

Luckily there was no floating Shaggy on the slow ascent to the surface, she observed.  He hadn’t passed out or been a meal for that sea monster, she thought.  But a second dark shape next to the boat…her boat…did seem odd.  Maybe Fred and Velma thought the conference was boring and opted to join them on the water.  She did give them a map of where they were going, just in case.

Climbing up the ladder rungs, she was shocked to find Scooby and Shaggy standing their, in their diving gear, arms held aloft.  In front of them was a pair of figures.  One wore a dilapidated blue coat, red knit hat, and dark brown pants.  The other was someone in a diving suit in neon yellow color, with a matching helmet that did not reveal any features.

“What are you doing on my boat?” Daphne broke the silence.

“We be looking ta rent it from ya, Miss Blake,” the blue coated man replied.

“It isn’t for rent…for you,” she shot back sardonically.

As if on cue, the two each produced a pistol.  “We be thinkin’ you might say that, missy, so we’ve decided to borry your yacht….on a more permanent basis.”

Daphne ignored their threat.  “Ebenezer Shark and Captain Cutler, I presume”

“Right on the first count, missy, but not the latter,” Shark beamed.  “Let me introduce my first mate.  Ezekiel Barracuda is his name.”

Daphne slapped her head.  E-names and predators of the deep…it would be too corny, if they weren’t armed.

“As I recall, you and your snoopy friends put Cutler in the mainland brig,” Shark continued.  “It did me quite the favor, allowing me to be taking over the business.

“The business of what?” Daphne inquired, having a sinking feeling she knew.

Shark wave his hand toward his boat.  “I be talking about the business of salvaging ships to the highest bidder.”  He then returned an intense gaze in her direction.  “And your expensive boat is the highest on my list.”

“But I thought…” Shaggy began, but was interrupted.  “Who’d ya’ think spun the tale about the captain’s ghost and widow,” Shark said amusedly.  “After ye caught the cap’n and his wife, we then went about the harbor, deprivin’ rich folks of their fancy yachts from the marina.”

Daphne folded her arms in defiance.  “You’ll never get away with this.”

Shark laughed.  “I be plannin’ ta leave no witnesses behind, and make some money on the side.”  He and Barracuda each pulled out a pistol motioning them to go inside the cabin.  Shaggy led enthusiastically, while Daphne lingered behind, hoping to delay the duo long enough for something…anything to happen.

“Things couldn’t get much worse,” Shaggy lamely observed, his wrists bound together with kelp.

“Reah, realy rad!” Scooby concurred.  Even the movement of his paws was restricted by seaweed.

“MMMMPPHHFFFF!!!!” Daphne retorted into the piece of tape that sealed her mouth.  Unlike the other two, bound at their wrists and ankles, the redhead was hogtied tightly, with her wrists and ankles drawn up behind her, knotted nearly together.  Her original bindings did resemble Shaggy’s and Scooby’s, but a combination of her withering insults and botched escape attempt led to more secure ties, courtesy of several tight strands of the rope-like seaweed tube wound around her body, wearing the purple diving suit she received for Christmas.

“Uh, sorry Daph,” Shaggy managed.  Her eyes shot back a look of scorn.  Had they joined her in the getaway attempt, one of them might have successfully summoned help.

“Comfy?” Ebenezer Shark asked as he strolled up to them.  Shaggy and Scooby were largely silent, with most of the noise being the angry muffled sounds from behind Daphne’s tapegag.

“My, my, I be liking this captive audience,” he snorted, to a withering glare from Daphne.

“I hope ye be enjoyin’ yer stay on the S.S. Leviathan, an old sub left over from the Great War,” Shark continued, eying the redhead.  “This little mermaid may fetch a hefty bag o’ doubloons in tonight’s auction, as much as the scupper we borried from her this afternoon, Ezekiel.”

The man in the bright yellow diving suit nodded silently, then looked in Shaggy and Scooby’s direction.

“Them that ain’t worth a farthing get ta’ walk the plank,” Shark roared, as Barracuda made a throat-slashing gesture.

“We’re worth something!” Shaggy insisted.

“What can you land-lubbers do for us?” Shark scowled skeptically.

“I ah, uh, we’re good cooks, eh Scoob?” Shaggy stammered.  Scooby nodded enthusiastically.

“Well, go make us supper of authentic New England Clam Chowder!” Shark thundered, using his knife to slash their bonds.  He then turned to Daphne.  “You an’ that mouth ‘yours sit tight ‘til we send you to Elijah Orca on the mainland,” Shark sneered.

Her response was thankfully muted, to avoid the specter of censorship by this author.

A few minutes later, the pair was summoned by a whistle and a “come ‘n get it” from Shaggy, and left for the galley.  In the next moment, Shaggy appeared by Daphne’s side, startling the girl.

“Mmm mmph mmmm muphrf,” she reacted angrily, followed ripping sound of tape and a “Yee-owmmmfff!!”  Shaggy clutched her mouth to keep her yell from summoning Ebenezer and Ezekiel from the galley.

“Rt row ri routh!” she insisted, and Shaggy slid his hand away before running the risk of her biting it.

“What are you two doing here?” she snapped.

“We’re rescuing you!”  Shaggy beamed, hoping it would make her angry mood subside.

“I was doing fine until you two showed up,” she growled.

Shaggy observed her body.  A thick tube of kelp still tied her wrists and ankles, with the remaining strand bound to her legs and chest.  “Good job,” he managed.

Daphne glowered at his teasing.  “Make yourself useful.  Get me something to cut this stuff with.”

“Way ahead of you Daph,” Shaggy smiled, producing a Swiss Army Knife.  After accidentally retrieving the spoon and fork, he flipped open the blade.

“Slip it into my hands,” Daphne demanded, as Shaggy moved to saw through the kelp.  “I’m going to do this part.”

At that moment, a bellowing could be heard from the kitchen, followed by stomping footsteps.  Shaggy and Scooby instinctively began to bolt, but Daphne hissed “Shaggy, get back here this instant!”

Reluctantly, he dashed back to the bound beauty.  “Uh…”

“Put that gag back on me,” Daphne ordered.  As Shaggy hesitated, she snapped “Do it or they’ll know something’s up, and they search me and find the knife!”

Shaggy produced the tape, hesitated for a second, then put it over her lips, smoothing it.  At that moment, he did something unexpected.  He kissed her over the silvery duct tape, saying “Don’t worry, I’ll come back to rescue you.”

“Mmmph?!”  Daphne was so stunned, she nearly dropped the knife.  What the…where did that come from?  But at that moment, the two pirates were nearly there, giving him just enough time to duck behind a metallic object.

“Where be those cooks?” Shark bellowed.  “That be Manhattan Clam Chowder, not New England!  They’ll hang from the yardarm when we catch them….but not before Miss Daphne takes a sea voyage.  Ezekiel, slide her into the torpedo tube.  Then move it into position to fire it toward Elijah on the beach.”

“Aye, aye Captain” a hollow metallic sound followed from the yellow diver.

“No!” Shaggy blurted, leading both to freeze.

“So it be the confounded cook,” Shark guffawed.  “Tryin’ ta’ rescue the damsel-in-distress.  I’ll capture him while you prepared the lady for her journey,” he said to his partner.

Barracuda picked up the purple-clad prisoner, and moved her toward tube.  She bucked and jerked, but the yellow diver didn’t seem to mind, until a pair of legs unexpectedly broke loose and kicked him in the head.  Ezekiel flew hard backwards, crashing into a pile of smaller torpedoes, where he lay motionless.

Nearly ready to apprehend Shaggy and Scooby, Shark turned at the sound of the crash.  He couldn’t believe his eyes at the crumpled form of Barracuda, especially since Daphne now lay on her side, still bound and gagged.

Shark turned upon the young lady.  “How be it possible that ye dispatched me first mate so?” he asked, not expecting an answer.  Perhaps Ezekiel had tripped in the clumsy suit, he reasoned.  But as he was nearly upon the helpless heroine, a torpedo from above broke loose from its hold, swung down, and nailed Shark on the head.  His vision blurred, then he crumpled to the ground, right next to Daphne, unable to see her bound hands behind her, grasping the remote control for moving the old weapons around.

“Daphne, you saved us!”  Shaggy and Scooby ran to hug her.  By this time, she had stealthily used the knife to cut her wrist bonds.  As Shaggy knelt to remove the tape, she shook her head back and forth furiously.  Instead, she used her new-found freedom to slash loose the kelp knots incapacitating her legs, then pull off the other vines off her body.  At long last, she gently removed the tape.

“Well, it was the least I could to for the two who provided me the knife,” she conceded.  “Perhaps you’ve earned a Scooby snack after all.  Now help me use my bonds to tie these two up, while I radio the Coast Guard to pick up Mr. Orca, based upon these coordinates” she observed from one of Shark’s charts.

Later that night, aboard the Coast Guard cruiser heading back into port with her yacht in tow, Daphne headed toward the forward rooms.  Sure the two were clumsy oafs, always getting into trouble, but at least they had helped save her from her assailants.  Without Shaggy’s dinner knife, she would have never cut the tie pinning her ankles up behind her.

Loud snoring sounds came from the room.  The lambs were sleeping soundly, no doubt exhausted by their ordeal she mused.  But a green glow caught her attention.  It was Shaggy’s cell phone.  Curiosity got the better of her as she opened it up, and went to the speed dial section.

To her amazement, she saw her name come up as soon as she clicked on the option list.  Wha…now this was unexpected.  Did Shaggy bump her up past his own mother, Fred and Velma because I was mad at him earlier, she wondered.  The redhead always thought that he was more Velma’s type, but this…. What did it mean?  Taken with that impromptu kiss and those daring attempts to rescue her…had he fallen for her?  Would it mean that he would fight with Fred for her affection?  Would it split up the gang?  Her heart was racing until her thumb inadvertently hit a button.  There was a name above hers.

She looked down at the new number one on the cell phone, and smiled wryly to herself.  Setting the phone down, she tiptoed out of the room and down the hall toward where the Coast Guard officers were preparing to take her statement about her kidnapping.  No matter what else had happened on the trip, she knew his one true love would always be there, even above her.  And she could live with that.

The words at the top said “Teriyaki Bowl.”
"Shark Bait." It accompanies "Daphne vs. Captain Cutler."

Once again thanks to barney
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Petticoat Function

by Barney Brazil

"Stop this carriage in the name of the King!"

The fancy horse-drawn coach with its elegantly dressed passenger slowed to a halt.  Four riders approached, each from a different direction.  Their gaudy long hats with jaunty-looking feathers, blue cloaks with the white and gold fleur de leis, and well-trimmed facial hair indicated they could be none other than…

"It's the musketeers," Daphne's heart leapt in her chest as she exclaimed in surprise.  How nice, she would get a surprise escort from several handsome gentlemen.  This trip was looking better than she expected.

"Throw down your weapons or prepared to do battle," one of them demanded.

There's no need to be alarmed she told herself; the lads are just being cautious.  But it did surprise her to see the driver and coachman drop a sword and a pistol each.  One can't be too careful when bandits or highwaymen prowled.

"Come out now, Milady," another insisted.

Milady?  Maybe he simply meant "my lady," and I just misheard him Daphne thought.  At any rate, it would be wonderful to meet those nice strapping boys.

She opened the door of the carriage and gingerly moved down the steps in her fancy gown, trying to make sure her stylish hat stayed atop her head.  "I'm honored by your presence…"

"Seize her!" the third shouted!

Rough hands grabbed her from behind.  What was going on?  "I'm sorry but you must be mistaken…." she began nervously.

"I think not, Milady" one of the three snapped.  "You are Milady Daphne, spy, temptress, murderess…we'll see to it that you pay for your crimes."

"My name IS Daphne, but I'm not who you think I am," she shot back.  "I'm no spy and I'm…not…uh…I've never killed anyone!"

"I found the note she was carrying from Cardinal Richelieu to the Duke of Buckingham," one musketeer called out from the coach.

"And I suppose that this small pistol in your purse is not yours either," another sneered.

"Neither of those is mine," she wailed.  "You have to believe me."

One of the bearded men stepped forward toward her, as two others each held an arm, pinning them behind her back.  "You are too dangerous to leave loose.  Bind her!" he commanded the two restraining her.

The two looked uncertain.  "With what, Athos?" a mustachioed man began.  "We need the ropes for our horses."

"And no one has any extra cords" the goateed young one added.

"You see," the redhead beamed.  "Perhaps you will allow me to accompany you freely in my coach.  When you learn that I'm not a villain…."

"You'll not be free to slip away, Milady, as you have so many times before," the one called Athos barked.

Another of the ones who had not restrained her eyed her up and down with a vulgar expression on his face.  Then his face broke into a crude smile.  "You know, Athos, that a woman wears plenty of cloth that would make suitable binding material."

Daphne glowered at the shorter, squat musketeer.  "You wouldn't dare rip this dress.  The fabric alone probably cost more than you make in a year."

"I have no intention of damaging such a fetching gown," the lewd musketeer grinned.  But you are wearing other cloth that would make a more suitable set of bindings for a woman of your character!"

"Wha-what do you mean?" she gasped.

"Proceed, Porthos," Athos nodded as the smaller man knelt down.  Porthos proceeded to reach under her gown, and rip a long strip from her petticoats.

"You…you're the real villain!" Daphne snarled as he ripped three more strips from her precious petticoats.

"You weren't so quick to complain when you shed them so rapidly to seduce all those men in your life," Aramis shot back as he used the first strip to knot her wrists together.

"You really have the wrong lady," Daphne pleaded, seeing how serious the men were about tying her up.  "Please can't you give me the chance to prove my innocence?"  At the same time, she flashed her ankles and thrust her chest forward.  Reason wasn't working for these musketeers.  Maybe some feminine charm might do the trick.  Porthos gaped while Aramis averted his eyes, as if avoiding a sin.  Athos reddened while the youngest one looked up into her eyes.

"Now her ankles, Shag'tanean," Athos ordered.  The gangly musketeer with the goatee reluctantly secured her ankles, inquiring "Is this really necessary?  Maybe she isn't…"

"Of course she is!" Athos screamed.  "This seductress seeks our pity with her wiles, can't you see?  She must be executed immediately!"  He drew his sword.

Porthos grasped the arm of Athos.  "If I may make a suggestion….this Milady could be used to expose the treachery of the Cardinal and Duke."

"But she has already clouded Shag'tanean's mind," Athos responded hotly.  "How long before she twists us all around her finger?"

Porthos beamed.  "I have just the solution to keep our fair prisoner from changing any more minds."  He wadded up one of the two remaining petticoat strips, then advanced upon the helpless lady.

"You…you wouldn't…." Daphne yelped.  But as she opened her mouth to scream, he jammed the cloth wad into her mouth.  As she fought to spit the gag from her mouth, he pulled the remaining strip over her lips, knotting it tightly behind her hair.

"And now to see if these undergarments are an effective gag," Porthos cackled bawdily, taking the feather from his hat, and advancing menacingly upon her.  Daphne shrieked for all she was worth in anticipation of being tickled, but the sound was heavily muffled, though there was no mistaking the horror in her eyes.

"Enough, Porthos" Aramis commanded.  "You can see that she is sufficiently gagged."

Porthos frowned, having lost his attempt at a little fun.  But he did get his chance to scoop her up, setting her gently in the back of the coach.

"Leave the coachman and driver by the side of the road," Athos insisted.  "I'll drive the coach, while Porthos, you may accompany our captive inside."

Aramis looked at Shag'tanean.  "You and I will ride our horses, taking the steeds of Athos and Porthos.

"Yes sir," Shag'tanean responded, with a final look back at the coach.  The beautiful redhead was staring at him through the window, her mouth obscured by the cloth, pleading for him to rescue her.  Was she really someone else, as she insisted, or was it yet another trick?  He shook his head, as the question would bedevil him for the rest of the journey back to Paris .

As King Fredrique, busy entertaining the wise Empress Valmia of Austria, looked on in shock, he saw three of his most loyal musketeers, along with another musketeer unknown to him, bringing forth a beautiful bound and gagged redheaded lady in an attractive purple and lilac dress, complete with a matching feathered hat, as was the style of the day.

"What…is the meaning of this…." he sputtered, shocked by the scene.

"Your majesty, we have apprehended Milady Daphne, a spy who has information on a conspiracy against the government," Athos began.

"But why is she gagged?" Empress Valmia questioned.

The musketeers froze, unsure of how to respond.  "Your majesty, this lady has agreed to testify against the other conspirators, in exchange for clemency," Aramis finally spoke, to the shock of is colleagues.  "But her accusations have yet to be verified.  It is therefore prudent to keep her silenced until we can be sure she speaks the truth."

"Innocent until proven guilty….a revolutionary concept," Empress Valmia noted.

"Very well," King Fredrique nodded.  "Take her to a dungeon cell, and leave her gagged.  Guard her personally to see that no one comes to her rescue"

Cardinal Jekylieu stepped forward.  "Your royal highness, I must request that these musketeers not serve as her guards.  They are too valuable in their duties to protect the king."

The French monarch frowned.  "Who do you have in mind?"

"Elias of Kingston," the Cardinal offered.  "He is the head of the Cardinal's guard.  But your life is more important than mine."

Porthos sprang forward to object.  "Your majesty, I would be more than pleased to undertake the arduous task of guarding this beau…I mean dangerous lady."

Milady Daphne, who until this time had been silent, mumbled an audible objection into her gag, to no avail.

Meanwhile, Athos scowled in the Cardinal's direction.  He never trusted the King's "spiritual adviser."

"If there is treachery against France , I need the three of you devoting your time to uncovering the truth behind this woman's tale," King Fredrique said, addressing his headstrong leader of the musketeers, dismissing them.  

Daphne sat on her bench in her cell.  Her wrists were still tightly bound, as were her ankles.  And that insulting petticoat gag that Porthos came up with was still jammed into her mouth, with more of her undergarments covering her mouth.  It was objectionable for a lady of her breeding to be trussed up in such a manner, and silenced with garments many of her high society never mentioned in public!

But at least she wouldn't face execution, or so Aramis promised.  After riding with that rake Porthos, she had enough of his pawing and insults.  She finally drove a heel into his foot, leading him to loudly scream in pain.  Athos stopped the coach, to see what was wrong.  Porthos clutched his source of pain, then glared at his captive, preparing his hand for a strike.  She shut her eyes, anticipating the blow….

…Which never came.  As she opened her eyes, Aramis was restraining Porthos, with Shagtanen helping, while Athos snarled "We don't have time for this."

"Exactly," Aramis echoed, then looked at Porthos.  "It seems this woman is too much a temptation…and a match for you…"


"….Help Shag'tanean with the horses, while I watch our fair prisoner.  As a man of God, I think I am better suited to handling her than one of spends his time in bars, cavorting with the ladies…."

"I get your point," the portly musketeer snapped back.  "I'd rather be rid of this wench's company anyway."

Aramis stepped inside the coach, then sat opposite Milady.  He waved his hand, indicating the riders and the coach proceed.

For several minutes, he scrutinized Milady, but said nothing.  Normally, she would have blushed and averted her eyes from this man's stare, but something about him intrigued her as well.  Her eyes pleaded with him for mercy.

Over the clacking of wheels and clopping of hooves, the mustachioed musketeer leaned forward and whispered in her ear "I can tell you are innocent."

Her eyes bulged with surprise.  Finally, someone had listened to her…even if she was gagged.

"It is a gift I have…the ability to determine honesty from expressions," he went on.  "I think it comes from my devotion to the Almighty."

"I insist that you release me," she mumbled into her petticoat.

"Forgive me if I do not free you from your restraints," he went on.  "But it is necessary for my plan, and we should not arouse suspicion."

"What…I don't understand," she tried to say, even though she knew he wouldn't be able to understand her.

"You need to remain in bondage for a little while longer," Aramis explained.  "I will explain that you are being gagged because you have confessed your involvement in the conspiracy, and we must verify your claim."

Now she cocked her head, as if signaling to him she was trying to follow his plan.

"The Cardinal, who we suspect is behind the plot, will believe that your testimony will implicate him.  He will try to stop you in prison.  As he makes his move, we will catch him in our trap."

"But…but…I'd be bait!" she issued in muted protest.

"I apologize, but would you prefer to take your chances with the headsman's axe, or Athos' wrath, or Porthos' fantasies?"

"Nooo!!!" she shrieked into her gag.

"As I suspected," Aramis continued.  "So you will submit to my plan, then?"

She glared at him.  What chance do I have, she thought to herself.  But she reluctantly nodded.

"Good," He smiled.  "Again, I regret the indignity of your situation, but I can assure you that I will speak to our King at length of your sacrifice, and willingness to risk danger to save his life.

Okay…I hope he is as yet unmarried, she thought.

But now, those pleasant thoughts were replaced by fear.  Her two scarlet cloaked guards rose to open her cell door, then disappeared into the gloom, out of range of the lantern hanging on a hook inside her cell.

Replacing them was a dark-cloaked individual, complete with pointed black hat with white feather.  She shook her head in surprise….his skin appeared to be blue!

"It is I, Elias of Kingston, sent to provide my….personal guarantee of protection," he added, smiling widely.

He unlocked her cell door, then removed a dagger from his belt.  "The Cardinal wants you silenced…and I don't mean with that gag," he smirked.

She squealed into her gag for all she was worth, as he held the blade to her throat.  "Quiet, Milady!" he hissed into her ear.  I'm not going to kill you."

Her cries began to subside, she still appeared alarmed.

"A prostitute has been slain, and given a wig to resemble your hair," Captain Elias explained.  Meanwhile, you shall be taken to my…private residence…for safekeeping.  You see, those musketeers can be quite resourceful.  Should they actually uncover the plot, I have come to suspect that the Cardinal would throw the blame to me, to remain above suspicion.  You would become my bargaining chip, a hostage to ensure that I will not take the fall if the plot fails…."

"Mmph?!" she interrupted, amazed that her life would be spared, at least temporarily.

"And, if the plot succeeds, well, the royal sovereign's chief minister will need an attractive wife for costume balls and parties at the king's palace.  You would make a most appealing mate."

She shook her head defiantly.

"You would do well not to cross me," Captain Elias glared angrily.  "I can assure you a place next to that whore in that cask at the bottom of the Seine if you refuse…."

"Captain Elias!" bellowed Athos, flanked by Aramis and Porthos, with Shag'tanean behind him.  "Step away from her."  Behind them, King Fredrique and Empress Valmia observed the proceedings.

"You'll never take me alive!" Captain Elias shouted, slashing at a rope.  In an instant, a heavy fixture dropped from the ceiling, knocking all three musketeers unconscious.

"A mere boy," the blue-faced leader of the Cardinal's guards remarked, observing Shag'tanean.  "No match for me.  Cardinal Jekylieu will throw our ineffective King Fredrique and his betrothed Austrian Empress in jail, ruling this country as a tyrant should…with force!"

But as he approached Shag'tanean, he slipped upon the food that the bearded musketeer had been munching upon, striking his head.  In a flash, the gangly musketeer in training had retrieved Elias' sword, and began the process of cutting the bonds immobilizing the redheaded damsel.

As soon as he removed her despised petticoat gag, she jumped into his arms.  "Oh Shag'tanean!" she cried out to her rescuer.

"Excuse me?" he responded.

"My…hero?" then Daphne shook her head.  She was still wearing her fancy gown and hat, but the room had changed.  It was the school gymnasium, decked with bats, skeletons, ghosts, vampires, and a large sign that proclaimed "Halloween Dance."

"You okay, Daph?" Shaggy managed.  He was wearing that crazy Musketeer costume.  Fred and Velma were dressed as king and queen.  "You know, I think Redd spiked the punch…."

"Must've" muttered Daphne, contemplating her crazy dream.  Where did that wacky fantasy come from, Daphne wondered to herself.

"You said something about me being a hero," he mentioned, adopting a ridiculous pose.

I was crazy to have such a dream about him, Daphne thought, considering the guy with the goatee, especially when Fred was available.  "I must've been saying something about the…about that hero sandwich I made for you," she added hastily.

"Oh yeah," Shaggy dreamed stupidly.  "Boy one of those would be great."

"Don't say anything about what I said to Fred, and the sandwich is yours."

"Deal, Daph," Shaggy responded, drooling already.

Yet Daphne managed to stumble a few times, swaying slightly.  "Hey Fred!" Shaggy yelled.  "Daph's still kind of out of it.  Can you help-"

But quick as a flash, the school's star football player swooped in to catch the fainting redhead, who swooned into his awaiting arms.  Sure the punch had a kick, but that didn't mean she couldn't use it as an excuse to disengage the king and queen.  This is much better, she smiled to herself, as he carried her out the door, to her room, for a little privacy.

Drat, Velma cursed to herself.  That concoction she made should've put her rival to sleep.  Now Fred held her in her arms, carrying her toward the doorway.  Looks like the other kind of chemistry trumped HER chemistry concoction she made, to make her taller friend slumber through the evening while she had the magical night.  There's always next time, she thought to herself.
It's another Barney Brazil production, art and story (Petticoat Function). This time, poor Daphne is bound and gagged at the hands of the good guys, the Three Musketeers. How will she wiggle out of this one?
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Fanfic: "Twice Tied Stories"
by Barney Brazil

Velma checked her watch again.  “Daphne was supposed to meet us at midnight to go over reports of paranormal activity at the old Pendleton Estate.”
Fred shook his head.  “You know how she is…probably got lost in reading a romance novel or brushing her hair.”  
The bespectacled girl frowned at her companion’s sexist attitude, but continued to knock at the Blake Mansion door in vain.  Her friend could be flighty at times, but was generally punctual about appointments for mystery solving, especially those with her blond boyfriend.
Throwing his shoulder at the door like a running back knocks a defender aside, Fred slammed into the oak structure.  To his surprise and Velma’s the door swung open.
“Guess I don’t know my own strength!” the high school football star beamed.
“You don’t” Velma deadpanned.  “The door was unlocked.”
He shrugged his shoulders, then pulled the female sleuth inside.  “Let’s go look for my gal.”
A quick search of the first floor revealed little, given that everyone in the family except Daphne was on a European vacation.  The second floor seemed equally eerie in its soundlessness.  Fred quickened his pace until he pushed open Daphne’s door.
What he saw stopped him dead in his tracks, enabling Velma to catch up with her partner’s lengthy stride.  The room resembled a tossed salad.  Lying on the floor was Jenkins, Daphne’s butler, eyes closed, arms pinned to his side by the remains of a bell cord.
“Mmmph!” the redhead broke the silence with her muffled cry.  She had a purple cloth jammed in between her teeth, tied behind her head no doubt.  The purple matched the nightgown she wore, offset by a white collar around her neck that resembled flower petals.  Her bare arms were bound to her chest with pink fabric while her wrists were knotted in front of her body with a long lilac cloth.  Her legs were not visible beneath the covers of her bed.  She continued to make “mmmphs,” desperate to shake Velma from her mental analysis and Fred from his ogling.
A sudden gust of cold air blew in from an open window, causing all three to shiver.  Several candles littered the sill, with splashes of wax separating them from the window.
The gaping Fred managed to come to his senses and moved toward the bed to free his girlfriend.  After having the purple cloth pulled from her lips, Daphne spat out a white cloth and gave a heartfelt “Thank you so much” to her partners in solving crime.
“What happened, Daphne?” Velma asked.
“I was reading by the candlelight,” Daphne said, pointing toward the window.  Fred noted a bodice ripping romance novel by her side, where a hunk of a man was pulling a bound woman toward him. “At any rate, the wind blew out all of my candles, depriving me of light.  I pulled the bell cord for Jenkins to relight them, given that I was already pretty snug in bed.”
Fred finished untying Daphne’s hands, leading her to rub them to work circulation back into them.  “Before Jenkins arrived, a vampire appeared and threatened to make me reveal where the jewels from Aunt Olivia’s estate were kept.  I was forced to tell him.  In thanks for telling him the location, he tied my hands with my pink tights and stuffed a silk handkerchief in my mouth!”
“Was he from our mystery from ‘Vampire Bats and Scaredy Cats'…the one who tried to cheat Lisa out of her hotel inheritance?” Velma asked.
Daphne shook her head.  “No, I think he’s the one from ‘A Gaggle of Galloping Ghosts,' who locked me in a dungeon.  At any rate, when Jenkins did arrive, the vampire conked out my poor butler with a candlestick, ripped down the bell cord, and wrapped him up in it.”  
Daphne paused with a series of heavy breaths as she related her tale of terror.  “As he prepared to leave, I reached up with my wrists and pulled the handkerchief from my mouth.  I insisted that he have the decency to at least close the window before leaving me in my predicament as a helpless damsel-in-distress.  Instead, he rifled through my dresser, and came back with a pair of my lilac tights.  He used those to pin my arms to my body.  He stuffed the silk handkerchief back into my mouth, then cruelly ripped a long strip from the bottom of my new nightgown!  The cad gagged me with the cloth by jamming it in my mouth, tying it underneath my hair in the back.  After he admired his handiwork, the monster made some lewd comments about me, laughed, then departed through the door, leaving the window open!”
Daphne sobbed as Fred comforted her.  “I lost Aunt Olivia’s jewels, my nightgown’s ruined, and I’m going to get a ghastly cold in the morning from this chill!”
“Cheer up,” Velma observed wryly.  “I can’t speak for your lingerie and your health, but I do know your story about the jewels is false.”

How did Velma know?  Read below to discover the answer.

“Wha-what are you talking about?” Daphne’s shrill voice rattled.  Fred glowered at Velma, forcing her to explain.
“Look at the candles by the window,” Velma pointed out.  “The wax is splashed toward the window, not away from the window.”
“So?” Fred shot back.  “I still think you owe Daph….”
“If the wind had really blown out Daphne’s candles, it would have splashed the wax away from the window.”
Fred paused, taking in Velma’s statement.  Daphne sighed unhappily.
“You can get up now, Jenkins,” Velma grinned.  “Show’s over.”
“Miss Blake had me help arrange the whole scene,” Jenkins admitted.  “At her direction, I bound and gagged her as you saw, set up the candles, and rolled over a few times on the floor with the bell cord, to make it seem as though I was tied.”  
He bowed toward Daphne “My apologies, Miss Blake, for blowing out the candles in the wrong direction.”
“It’s okay, Jenkins,” she shook her head.
“So what happened to the jewels?” Velma asked as she prepared to depart.
“I never lost them,” the redhead gritted her teeth.  “I was trying to stump you to get even for that time that you exposed my story about being abducted by Mr. Hyde.”
As Velma departed, Fred began in an off-handed manner “You know, I was a little suspicious myself.  It looked like you could still ungag yourself with your hands, even with your wrists that were bound in front…if you really wanted to shout for help. ”
Daphne began to mutter.  “Great…I ruined one of my nicest nightgowns for nothing.”
“I don’t know about that,” Fred observed.  “It looks like a hot little micro-mini now.”
“You think?” Daphne’s expression brightened.  Maybe the night wasn’t a total loss.
“Perhaps, after we do our surveillance at the old Pendleton place, maybe you could….you know….model it for me?” Fred offered.  He twirled the stockings absent-mindedly between his hands.  
Oh yeah…no loss at all, Daphne thought as she grinned.  She stuffed the torn piece of her lingerie under her pillow…for later.
Another great story from Barney Brazil read on iff you dare lol.
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