This time around, I’m going to do something a little different. Instead of recapping a single story from one issue, I’m doing the entire issue (aside from the letters to the editor bit, of course). Doesn’t that sound like fun? WELL, DOESN’T IT?

Okaybee, let’s get started!

Talk about an occupational hazard. I guess St. Canard newspapers don’t care where or at what time they send their paperboys. This is St. Canard; evil is always afoot. For all we know, the Liquidator could be that stream of trash-soiled water, just waiting to kidnap the poor kid for whatever nefarious plan he’s boiling. Which would have been a far better story than what we’re about to read.

Thanks, Captain Obvious-Exposition. We’d be hopelessly, tragically lost without that kind of input. It’s not like the flu epidemic is making headlines or anything.

But, yes, it’s true. Darkwing Duck, currently in civilian mode, is out of commission because of the flu. What a wuss. “It doesn’t make sense that you’re so sick,” Launchpad says. Why, Drake should be just bouncing off the walls! “Didn’t you just get a flu vaccine shot?” continues LP. “Just last week,” Drake replies, “along with half the people in this burg. Dr. Turnancoff–” ACTUAL NAME. “–was giving out free flu shots at the mall.”

Determined to continue his duty as the city’s defender, Drake climbs out of bed. “But never mind the sniffles, my faithful nursemaid,” he says, fueling at least twelve more Darkwing/Launchpad slashfics. “I have no time to be laid up in bed!” Most of the police is sick, so it’s up to Darkwing and friends to stop a masked marauder terrorizing the city. Just as Drake says he’ll take an “asp… asp… aspa… aspa…” he sneezes himself clear across the room, right into Gosayln. Hey, a twofer: a comedy bit and a saved trip to a dictionary to look up the word aspri… aspi… aspa… headache medicine.

“Just what I need to keep from getting sick,” says LP, assholeishly drinking Drake’s orange juice. As for the chicken noodle soup, it’s all over Drake’s head. “HAH! HAH! … ahum. Just what the doctor ordered,” Gos chuckles. “Maybe next time you’d like a spoon!” LP adds. Maybe Drake should be more concerned about their cannibalistic tendencies. I mean, a duck eating chicken noodle soup. It counts, right?

Early the next morning, Drake is still dead-ass sick. Gos and LP while away the morning watching the news and commenting on how Darkwing Duck is still too sick to do a damn thing to the masked marauder. “DW’d wrap this guy up tighter than a wad of used tissues.” The less we think about that image, the better.

And we’re back to seeing people when there shouldn’t be any. Seriously, didn’t the writers understand that most Disney cartoons featured exclusively anthro animals and not a single human? It’s almost like they didn’t care. (And as my husband pointed out, Dee Dee looks more like a waitress than a news reporter. Well, in the 90s, it was becoming more common for people to work two jobs.)

Anyway, Dee Dee shows off her internal dictionary/lavender prose while describing the scene: “The dastardly fiend had more on his mind than mere money. Not only did he leave in his wake the sad depositors whose cash he pilfered… but, except for these meager crumbs, this vile villain made off with the morning supply of fresh donuts as well!” Gods, Dee Dee, you’re only in seven panels in this comic, but you suck so hard. I’d rather see you show off your word skills down at the local senior citizen’s home and meat packing factory.

Dee Dee goes to interview someone more useful and less show-offy than herself. The baker is more than happy to describe the marauder, or rather, his mask. “It looked like something you’d see on one of those doctor TV shows–it only covers his nose and mouth and ties in the back.” Yeah, that would be a doctor’s mask, sir. Thank you for describing the intricacies to St. Canard’s dumber citizens. “And it’s camouflaged like a soldier’s clothing.” Turns out the marauder’s hair wasn’t even visible; he was wearing a camouflaged cloth cap, too.

“Did he leave any clues?” asks Dee Dee, which is the least dumb thing she’s said so far. “Nope,” says the baker, “not even fingerprints. He was wearing thin rubber gloves.”

Launchpad, you moron.

No clues, it’s all hopeless, so why not have some breakfast? Launchpad goes to make a healthy meal for their breadwinner. Since he needs adult supervision, Gos goes with him. But our brave hero isn’t going to sit down for breakkies. While the others are in the kitchen, he’s going on the case. And since Launchpad will undoubtedly set fire to the entire meal and explode the kitchen sink, Darkwing will have more than enough time to find a lead before Gos brings out a bowl of cold cereal.

To us: an ad for a product that treats a fairly common ailment. To DW: unrefutable evidence of chaos.

I like this story less than getting popcorn hulls stuck between my molars, so I’m going to zip through these two pages. Blah, blah, DW on the trail, going to the busiest part of town except it’s not right now, yadda yadda, nasty sneeze, blahdy blah, finds cellophane lollipop wrappers and comes to the conclusion that the masked marauder must have dropped them during his raid, so he figures the marauder works at a candy factory.

Go ahead and read that last part again. Darkwing actually says that. Of course he’d have to work in the candy factory! It’s not like he could have bought lollipops in bulk or anything, or that the marauder works in a cellophane wrapper factory and decided to take his work home with him the day he became a criminal. If you think that logic is stupid, DW comes to the second conclusion that the thief must be in the factory, and there aren’t too many suspects, because most everyone is out with the flu. Odd this may seem, but evil does occasionally take a day off.

“Show yourself, you candied creep!” DW screams like a dink. “I am the terror that flaps in the night! I am the secret center of a cherry candy-pop! I am Da… Da… Da…”

Who should come by and pull DW out of the orange candy coating vat than Launchpad? No, he didn’t bring DW’s cold breakfast with him, though you’d probably expect this dumber incarnation to do just that. And how did LP find Darkwing, you ask? “I followed the trail of used tissues.” With that, the duo stroll out of the candy factory, with Launchpad telling DW to finally go see the doctor.

HOLY CRAP THERE ARE DOUGHNUTS ON THE DESK IT’S A CLUUUUEEEE. But Drake doesn’t seem to jump to the obvious conclusion, finding the officer more interesting than finding clues. Seriously, check out that expression. I think after this, you need to get home to Launchpad, Drake.

It's funny because it happens for real.

Finally, Dr. Unfortunately-Named sees the officer. Strangely enough, he doesn’t call the officer into the exam room. How else will DW find another clue otherwise? The cop isn’t feeling too well now, so the good doctor gives him an all-day sucker. “I give them to all my flu-shot victims. Heh heh. I mean patients.”

Drake notices. “A lollipop! Perhaps I should find out where he buys them. It might just lead me back to the masked marauder.” Perhaps you should jump the dink and be done with it, Drake.

Now you'll learn why they call him Turnancoff. Heh heh heh...

DW quickly recounts seeing the doctor last week for a flu shot for the benefit of us who have super short-term memories. After another hearty sneeze, the doc comments on it. Maybe he should give Drake another shot, just to be on the safe side…

Yes, it’s finally coming together for Drake. “Yoiks!” he thinks, backing up into the wall. “Have I been barking up the wrong robber-tree? The doc’s flu shots are just that–flu shots! He’s injecting people with a virus to clear the way for his robberies!”

It looks like our hero is done for. But just as the doctor is going to pump another load of sick juice into Drake, what should come up but Chekhov’s sneeze?

(Hold a sec, folks. I’ll be right back. I’ve got some plants to, uh, water.

Well, that was pointless. Better write a note to get the vacuum out later.)

Back at home, Drake is in bed, enjoying a warm dinner. “Let’s see you EAT the soup this time, instead of WEARING it *snicker*!” laughs Gos. Drake is understandably insulted by this display of idiotic humor. “Hardy *sniff* Har. Har. How very DROOL… I mean DROLL.”

While LP hooks up the TV, he informs Drake that he’s now locked in the bedroom until he gets better. Quality health care! On the TV, Drake is interviewed by Dee Dee Downs, who looks like she’s just gotten off her shift at the local eatery. “Mr. Mallard, how’d you do it? What enabled you to bring down a criminal that no law officer has been able to get his hands on?” “Well,” Drake says modestly, “I was just imitating my favorite hero, Darkwing Duck.” God, just plug the hell out of yourself.

One mostly unbearable story down. How about a clickable full-pager?

Click to view full size

I don’t care what anyone else says. Gyro is awesome, and his inventions are pure win.

Let’s get on to another story, this one featuring non-Darkwing characters from an unappreciated Disney Afternoon cartoon for a bloody change. Finally, the potential for real humor.

It's the legendary fridge of King Tutancockmun.
(Oh, don't tell me you didn't notice the nose.)

Only P.J. would have the idea to eat lethal leftovers. But, you know, I remember some documentary I watched years ago (so you know this next bit is ultra reliable) where some kind of food found in a ruler’s ancient tomb was still considered edible. So maybe P.J. is just food conscious and looking at cutting down on wastefulness.

Max has other idea, as you can read. So just how much would something like a fridge full off dusty leftovers be worth? “Around 200 million dollars, give or take a mil!” says the guide. Kind of makes you want to dig around your own backyard for ancient treasures, huh?

The boys have a sweet Alfa-Linguini car in mind, so they have the very same idea, but they’re going to do it in a sort of reversal.

True, everything is a collector’s item. Just like these comics I’m recapping. Following true kid logic, Max and P.J. decide that they’ll bury all their favorite things in the backyard so their collective value will increase over the years. Twelve-year-old Ellie would have considered this a genius idea, but twentysomething Ellie would be content to let the stuff gather dust in a battered box in the attic. Preferably behind the trunk that contains original Superman sketches, Civil War diaries, and the map leading to Jimmy Hoffa’s remains. Use the “boring barrier” to protect the soon-to-be valuable stuff, that’s what I do.

The boys enlist the help of the Pete family’s dog, Chainsaw, to dig a hole for their cardboard time capsule. It will surely last ages, most certainly up to high school, when the boys plan on unearthing the thing. By then, that pizza will have grown enough mold to culture at least a few dollars’ worth of penicillin.

But what’s this? Chainsaw has found something? What is it, girl? A prehistoric skeleton? Another crumpled, moldy cardboard time capsule?

It looks vaguely Egyptian. It must be valuable!

Yep, Goofy has seen the dog before, though he can’t remember where or exactly when. That doesn’t matter to the boys, as they’re too busy figuring out what to do with it. Give it to the Spoonerville Museum? Nah. Give it to P.J.’s mom? No way!

The sad thing is... they're right.

The next afternoon, the boys head off to the Upper Crust Antiques shop to sell their newfound… find. But, no! The sign on the door says “NO Children Allowed.” P.J. goes into mope mode. “Now what do we do? Go home and grow up?” Max spots a store called Grandma’s Attic Vintage Clothes. “We don’t hafta go home, P.J…. just next door!”

And wouldn’t you believe that the ploy actually works? And that the shop owner is willing to give ten thousand dollars for the dirty old thing?

Now the boys are in heaps of trouble. Instead of simply giving the lady the dog, they have to pay for everything they’ve broken. Now what are they going to do? Pressure their dads into paying for everything and sending themselves into debt? (Hey, it was the 90s. Most parents used credit cards like they breathed air. It was the popular way for parents to sacrifice for their children.)

Inspiration comes when Pete drives off to attend one of his own used car auctions. “[They] always bring home the bacon! And the pork chops, too!” No idea what Pete means by that, but that doesn’t matter. The boys are going to hold their own auction to sell the dirty old piece of crap.

Thing is, they can’t afford TV commercials. Back in the 90s, that’s what you did if you wanted to get noticed. That and radio. Seems strange now, what with online advertising and viral marketing. If YouTube had been around then, Max and P.J. would have made a few Flash videos and watched the hits rise, and get offered to put ads on their videos to make money. But they’ll just have to settle for an old-fashioned phone call…

“… gone to the lady with the big, fat bankroll!” Yes, news of the auction has gone 90s-fashion viral, and people from every corner of the world have congregated on the Goof family lawn for their chance to own a piece of history. Max and P.J. have got to get a high bid, or they’ll be spending the rest of their tween years paying back the shop owner through blood and sweat. (Trust me, I’ve worked for an independent business owner. They’re not the folksy, simple, kindhearted folks movies always make them out to be.)

A crazy bidding war erupts! Tenthousand tenthousand do I hear a twenty? Twenty! Twentythousand twentythousand do I hear a thirty? Thirty! Do I hear a one million? One million! And on it goes up to four million and ten, going once, going twi–

No, no, NO, YOU DINK. With a puff across the dog’s plate, we finally learn of its true form…

The crowd is livid! And just like any civil gathering that learns that it’s been swindled, they start to throw shit on the boys. It’s the perfectly grown-up thing to do.

Welp, the auction was a bust. Max and P.J. have accepted their fate. Sigh.

All in all, that wasn’t too bad. Everyone was in character, the plot moved smoothly, and it had the comedy of a genuine Goof Troop story. Plus, the sentimental bit at the end tied everything up nicely. Sure, the old couple swooping in to buy a cruddy old artifact from their first meeting place has been done, but it’s sweet. My husband and I managed to save the milk crates we used as chairs from the restaurant where he worked. It’s not the sign, but if I had to spend money to keep those warped and broken plastic boxes, I would have. So, hooray for old-timer romance!

I think it’s time I took a break from Disney Afternoon stuff. Sure, I only visit these, like, two times a month, but some of this stuff is really inane. Like eye-rolling-until-you-get-a-migraine-ly inane. I needs me another kind of classic. So I’ll dig through my box o’ comics for next month’s venture. Stay tuned!

Remember when I said last time that I’ll be posting full-page examples from this issue? Turns out I’ll only be doing one or two more. Saves me some scanning time and webspace, and lessens the chance of legal trouble, right? Oh, quit complaining. You’re not missing much.

Like with this Talespin comic. Kit’s been hard at work repainting the Seaduck. Apparently, his method includes slapping the brush around willy-nilly and hoping that a gob of paint lands on its intended surface. And it doesn’t help that he can’t get the right equipment to continue the job.

Fortunately, Baloo’s got a smart idea…

So, were they both too lazy to look for a ladder? Couldn’t Baloo have just held Kit up? Well, no, he probably would have been painted over. Hope burning the fuel for that stunt was worth it, Papa Bear.

Next up, the antics of Pete, Honest Salesguy! (Click for larger image.)

Admit it. You enjoy seeing karma give him what for. Frankly, I enjoyed this comic the first time around when I read it in Disney Adventures Magazine… when it was published in March 1995. (Click for larger image.)

Yep, same writers, different artists, different publications. To be honest, the TDA version looks better. (And as a DAM fan, that smarts.)

Ohhh. Does this really need a setup? Well, I guess. Turns out the Thunderquack’s canopy blocks out all sound, so DW can’t hear Launchpad ask him if it’s “left to loosen, or right?” No wonder Scrooge McDuck fired his incompetent ass. Still a wonder why DW kept him on. (Yeah, yeah, I know they were a big mismatched family in the cartoon.)

Impatient, bullheaded hero that he is, Darkwing searches in vain for the canopy switch. “DW, don’t try the ejector seat yet! I’m still having some trouble…” Comedy awaits.

Yes, Darkwing. It does help if you can read the labels.

That’s it for the February ’95 issue of TDA. Next month, I’ll begin issue #5, an installment surely packed with more Darkwing Duck than you can stomach!

I was the tender age of 12 when this series came out, so I was the target audience. Preteen Ellie might have been thrilled with all the wacky hijinx and daring goings-on simply because they included some of her favorite characters. But she would have been sorely disappointed in the way one character got shafted. You’ll see in part two of this article.

It says fun-filled, but I’m not optimistic.

We open the first issue to the legendary terror that flaps in the night as he prides himself on being St. Canard’s savior of slumber. If there’s anything Darkwing is famous for–besides crime fighting and an impeccable taste in fashion, of course–it’s his galaxy-sized ego.

Strangely, Launchpad is no where to be seen, as he is probably repairing the last craft he crashed. But our favorite plucky tomboy, Gosalyn Mallard, is by DW’s side, as snarky and petulant as ever.

DW gets onto Gos for calling him “Dad” while he’s in costume. Gos says that they’re in his “ultra-super-secret headquarters” if you can call one of the St. Canard towers ultra-super-secret. DW reprimands Gos once again, who just pouts: “Aw… What good is a juicy secret if you hafta keep it secret?” Everything, you ignorant dink.

It’s been years since I’ve watched the show, so I can’t really remember too much of Gos’s personality, though a reliable source (AKA my husband) tells me that Gos was pretty bratty and prided herself on being the adopted daughter of a masked hero. He says she was probably just funning DW, but her expression here says otherwise:

Petulant Snot Mode activated.

Anywhoodle, DW goes on about how privacy is important–no, necessary–to the survival and well-being of heroes and their families. Why, if every hero had their secret identity revealed, they’d be spending the rest of their days swatting away raving fans. And knowing how the Darkwing Duck fanbase fared among the fangirls, I can understand DW’s concern.

Just then, a helicopter flies up to the tower. Special delivery! But why would Darkwing have something sent to the headquarters and not his suburban home? Is it something the neighbors shouldn’t know about?

FredEx: When you absolutely need to have Disney Princess porn
discreetely delivered to your secret hideout.

Thing is, Darkwing doesn’t even know what it is. He didn’t order anything. And when he shakes the box, it makes a funny sound. HEEE HEEE HEEE. That wasn’t me being deliberately lame. The box actually makes that sound.

DW thinks they should detonate it from a distance. Wise choice, my man. That’s what I do with all the letters from churches advertising their holy get-togethers. But Gos, being Gos, tears right into the package. And what does she find?

• A canister of peanuts (DW: “Well, whoever sent this certainly knows my weakness!”)
• A jug of water (Gos: “This looks like plain water! But I guess that goes with peanuts!”)
• A flowerpot full of dirt (Gos says the exact same thing)
• A light bulb (DW: “Hmmm… This should give me an idea…”)
• And a mirror (gets no comment)

Our heroes are baffled. Darkwing sets a fist on a tabletop muttering about how there MUST be a clue in the package somewhere. There must be!

Water. Dirt. Light bulb. Peanuts. Mirror. GO EVIL!

By their oddness combined they are THE PHANTASMIC FOUR!

And here’s our first evildoer, straight from the peanut gallery: Quackerjack!

Can you spot the inappropriate touch?

Next up is my personal favorite, that head-bangingly, teeth-gnashingly obnoxious shill: The Liquidator!

After a long dirt nap, he’s turned over a new leaf–say hello to Dr. Bushroot!

Would it have been that hard to make sure DW was the correct color?

And he’ll put the spark back in your life: Megavolt!

Don’t mind the Liquidator. He’s just weird like that.

You done with the puns? So am I. Ugh.

But we’re not through yet. Someone had to bring these frazzled felons together and organize the hell out of them. Because, let’s face it, these four clashed constantly, and they needed some sort of glue to keep them focused on their task of destroying Darkwing Duck…

EEEEVVVVIIIIIIIILLLLLL!

Negaduck! Possibly one of Disney’s most popular, most evil characters ever. And a renewable source of fetish fuel, if that mind-scarring fanart was any indication. (No, don’t ask me where to find it. You don’t want to see it.)

Darkwing is outraged! How could his arch-nemesis discover his super-duper-ultra-mega top secret hideaway? It’s only the most top secret thing, right behind the Kentucky Fried Chicken seven herb recipe. Not as highly desired, but it’s still pretty damn secret. Or it used to be, before Negaduck started hanging around the schoolyard and eavesdropping on a certain girl… which, these days, would land him in prison quicker than he can blink.

What dastardly plan do these five have for our not-at-the-moment intrepid hero and his adopted tax deduction? A sinister scheme which Negaduck refers to as “Plan W,” which involves the Four scattering to the four corners of the hideout, with Bushroot quickly returning to scatter seeds at DW and Gos’s feet while the Liquidator rains himself all over them. “Think it’ll rain, beau?” he asks.

Even for the Liquidator, that’s pretty damn lame.

But, oh–horrors!

I posted the whole page, because this can only be appreciated in all its dumbness. I mean, a fucking bush? Okay, there are thorns on those branches… but a fucking bush? C’mon! This is the Phantasmic Four, led by Negaduck. There should be more deadly awesomeness involved here! Didn’t the writer watch any of the cartoons?

The Liquidator’s comment about real estate gets a grimace, considering the state of the housing market these days. (That’s what we Tropers like to call a Funny Aneurysm Moment.)

Also, I love how Bushroot looks like he’s going gay for Negaduck. He sprouts a little heart and everything!

Despite the incredibly shoddy trap, Darkwing and Gos are hopelessly stuck. Guess they’re afraid of a few scratches and rips in their clothes. Nevertheless, DW has a plan, and it calls for “subtlety.”

He yells that he and his kid can’t be left alone in the bush–they’ll starve! Gos gets into the act, screaming that she gets hyper when she doesn’t eat. Naturally, the villains take delight in this. It just makes me cringe, because I know that something really stupid is going to happen.

DW laments how they’ll waste away, just mere feet away from a fridge just packed with all sorts of goodies.

The Four spaz out at hearing this. What villain doesn’t enjoy a tasty treat every now and again? But the way they’re reacting, you’d think that they hadn’t eaten in days. (Well, Megavolt only had juice that morning, but that doesn’t excuse his suddenly wimpy ass… Wait, juice? Oh, hell, I just got it.)

Then DW recites a list of all the wonderful edible delights just waiting to be devoured. Since I’m in a wall of text kind of mood, I’ll list ‘em all: pate de frog grass, gnu stew with truffles, stuffed mongoose with all the trimmings, pickled persimmons, raspberry cream torte, enriched mono and di-glycerides, marinated mango parfait, eel en brochette, cold pimento pizza, marshmallow surprise delight, barbecued blowfish… damn, now I’m craving popcorn ice cream with a side of clams.

The Four must be on some sort of starvation diet, because they totally ignore their wise leader’s demands that they leave the fridge alone. No such luck, Negs. There’s probably some newt bladder pudding to be eaten. But just as Negs starts to get through to his minions, DW agrees with him. “Maybe he’s right, guys, it might be a bad idea to open the fridge!”

Like a typical two-bit villain, Negaduck falls for it. “Stop that! How dare you say the same thing as me??!!” He’s got a point; it’s not often that a mirror version of you from an alternate dimension would say the same thing. Enraged by this, Negaduck tells his henchmen to open the fridge…

I know it was done for laughs–I’m guessing–but would Darkwing actually let his fridge get that bad?

With the villains so originally disposed of, Darkwing produces a pair of hedge clippers and snips himself and Gos out of their botanical prison. When Gos asks why he didn’t free them earlier, his response his quite simple: “Two birds in the bush are worth more than in the hands of those clowns!” Such wisdom.

Gos gets the Burperware containers (GET IT?) and DW shovels all the crap into them. With everyone nicely sealed away, DW throws the containers into the package, writes “Return to Sender” on the side, and chucks it into a mailbox, conveniently located inside the hideout.

With that, I leave you this final image, because I can’t think of another way to wrap up this first story:

Hyuk!

Speaking of which, here’s a shortie, presented in all its one-page entirety:

It doesn’t surprise me that Pete might have kids just so he could sit on his morbidly obese ass all day and think of ways to scam people into buying his crappy cars–though in the cartoon, he actually pushed PJ into doing most of the chores while Pistol was spoiled endlessly. Still, it makes it all sweeter when Goofy does him in… in his adorably ignorant way, of course.

That’s all for this installment. Tune in next Tuesday for part two, which will be uploaded on time, dammit.