When my sister and I were young we read all of the Nancy Drew books voraciously. As we got a little bit older, we looked upon Nancy and her old fashioned ideas and friends a little less kindly. In fact, this second look gave way to a whole set of Nancy Drew Parodies, starring Nancy Drool. Consider one of our favorite stories, written by us as a team and illustrated by Diana.
The Clue in the Dog Bone
Nancy Drool galloped down the front staircase, dragging a hairy purple jacket after her."Hannah!" she yelled.
Their housekeeper, Hannah Gruesome, burst through the kitchen door wiping her runny nose on a freshly laundered towel. "You bellowed?"
"Of course!. I'm going to take Pog for a walk. Ned will be here at about 10:00. Try to keep him away from Dad, you know how their personalities clash." Nancy dug a battered silver whistle out of her jacket pocket and blew into it. Drops of spit collected on the edge of the whistle. There was a series of thumps and clicks in
the next room and then the faithful little terrier appeared in the doorway. With a low yelp, he clamped his jaws around Nancy's ankle and hung on for dear life.
"Pog certainly isn't keen on morning walks," observed Nancy, fastening her foot more firmly onto her ankle.
"Come,Poggy, dear!" She gave him a nudging boot in the rear and he sailed out into the onion patch. Nancy followed him into the front yard and sniffed appreciatively. The air was brisk and fragrant, marred only by the odorous black smoke that issued from the toilet plunger factory down the street.
She left Pog to attend to his own affairs while she searched for clues with her handy dandy magnifying glass. Ever since The Secret of the Old Jock, in which she had accidentally blown up an athletic underwear shop, new mysteries had been difficult to come by.
A 15 minute search revealed a couple of sodden matchbooks, a rubber doll with no head, and a rusty soda can. Nancy searched the can for hidden messages but it contained nothing but a dead cricket. She tossed it into her neighbor's yard. Pog trotted up and dropped a humongous soup bone on her left foot.
Nancy was irate. "Pog, will you quit dumping old junk on my feet? Last week it was a stinky used milk carton. Here, take your old bone!" She hurled it and it sailed past
Pog's right ear.Pog keeled over in a faint. Nancy lugged him into the house and deposited him in the middle of the dining room table, right in the middle of the turkey platter.
"You have a visitor," remarked Hannah. Nancy hobbled into the living room, favoring her left ankle.
"Well, if it isn't Ned Tickertape!" she called to the tall athletic figure who was surreptitiously stuffing a silver urn into his coat pocket. Ned whirled around quickly.
"Hello, Nancy Drool!Is your father around, cause if he is, I'm outta here. Ever since I called him 'a chip off the old blockhead' during the Scarlet Skipper Mystery, he's been looking daggers at me."
"Oh, silly Ned. He has not been looking daggers at you. He has been practicing for the annual Sword Swallower's competition next month. Don't worry. He's still at work anyway."
They head toward the kitchen area, discussing Ned's various adventures at Emesis University. By this time, Pog was back to normal and had bitten off Hannah's little finger.
"Hannah!" said Nancy sternly. "How many times have I told you not to bleed on the kitchen carpet? And pick up that finger. It's an eyesore." (to be continued)
So now you see it. The raw and rare rantings of a couple of early writers looking to bring down Nancy Drool and her friends.