The Invisible Man

The Invisible Man

Is he real or is it mass hysteria?
Jewelers, traders and bank tellers
claim to have seen him in the area.
Beware you buyers and sellers.

Sixteen banks were robbed at gunpoint
all by a nobody, wearing a moustache.
Jewelers say he was casing the joint,
then thieving gold, silver and cash.

One has to wonder when your name implies,
that you are indeed, actually transparent
why you would have to wear a disguise.
That just seems incoherent.

Is it then fair, for one to conclude,
aside from the furry nose glass
that you rob the banks in the nude?
Sure a good thing we can’t see your….

I’m not sure which is better
for the front page fodder:
Are you The Invisible Swindler
or the Full Moon Marauder?

For Illustration Friday’s Topic: Moustache

Lew Gordon

Lew Gordon: Private Eye
(In the style of a film noir limerick)

He hides behind the tree in the park,
lurks in the shadows and the dark,
following at night,
he stays out of sight,
and he never even leaves a mark.

He’s become the master of disguise,
the privatest of private eyes.
Quick-change like chameleon,
speaks Italian and Korean.
The silent, slickest spy of spies.

Sewing trenchcoats to fit in,
of wallpaper, wood or tin,
hides in the fog,
or dressed as a dog
he has even painted his skin.

So when you feel someone’s  in your midst
know that Lew Gordon exists.
It’s not a mirage,
he’s in camouflage,
And now you’re on his watch list.

Dinah Mite

Dinah Mite

(In the style of a commercial jingle)

Pop, pop, bang, bang!
The loudest member of the gang.

When the vault needs opening,
just give her a shout.
When you see her spark the string,
everyone get out!

Pop, pop, bang, bang!
The fiery lady in the gang.

A distraction from the cops,
up in flames and smoke.
The cops, they drop, when they hear the pops,
it’s the perfect hiding cloak.

Pop, pop, bang, bang!
The loose cannon in the gang.

But once she fought with the boss,
he told her what to do.
Dinah is no the one to cross,
their relationship is through.

Pop, pop, bang, bang!
Boss will never again harangue.
Pop, pop, bang, bang!
The loudest member of the gang.

For Illustration Friday: Spark

Frau Katze

Frau Katze
(In the style of a Hogan’s Hero)

As ze mob takes over ze city,
up pops a defense committee.
in spite of ze smite, zey take up ze fight,
und vow to show zem no pity.

Hauser Street is ze old lady’s club,
Watch out! Get down! Hind ze shrub!
She’s a pouncing cougar, ready with her Luger,
find another way home from ze pub.

Ze members of ze group all have cats,
wartime weapons, outfits und hats.
Dressed to ze nines, on ze front lines,
defending zeir houses und flats.

Ze Katze Club moves in on ze land,
it’s going according to plan.
When no one is home, zey sack it like Rome,
Six blocks are back in command.

When mobsters just can’t be coerced,
zey know how to make zem disperse.
Zey get zem all sick, brats laced with arsenic,
death by sausage, oh, it’s ze wurst.

Zey won’t rest till ze town is at ease,
and ze city is ridded of sleaze.
Till zen zey strap on ze heat, and hit ze street,
a new meaning to crazy cat ladies.

The Operator

The Operator

(In the eye-rolling style of one-liners)

Just remember, she knows everyone’s business
Even if there is a busy-ness signal.

She once butted in on Judge Atticus‘ secret Birthday.
She used the party line.

The Operator has known the Judge’s schemes for a long time.
He’s a real phone-y.

The Mayor called from bed, under his sheets, to connect to his lawyer!
She thought it was a real cover up.

She’s been hearing the butcher, Little Bobby‘s voice for so long,
It was good to finally meat him.

Sometimes they struggle to repair the lines that Sue Spence damages,
it really gets down to the wire.

She even knew what kind of pants “Legs” LaVine wore,
Bell-bottoms, oh, but of course.

She hates calls from the barbers, Barry, Benny and Timmy,
They always cut her short.

Don’t get a snappy tone with her like “Snappy” Walker,
or you just might get a dial tone.

Guest Artist: Monster Mobster

Hey look, we have another guest artist! It has been ages since we last had Carlos R Gomez do Fish-Eyed Willie but now we are pleased to welcome Joshua Rhodes to the guest list!  He is a carpenter, furniture maker, painter, geometric genius and all around creative mind.

Monster Mobster

Working, smirking, always lurking

The Monster hides not far from sight.

Sneaking, creaking, sometimes peeking,

gives children and men, quite a fright.

He comes at night with a naughty plan,

the elusive, furry monster man,

 of robbing children of their dreams.

 thieving thoughts and scamming schemes.

Prying, spying, children crying,

he comes when all are asleep.

Suited, looted, the undisputed

fuzzy, dapper, nighttime thief.

He blends right in with teddy bears,

even with the three piece suit he wears.

Never seen and never caught,

in and out just like a thought.

Present, silent, but never violent,

he hides under the bed.

Calling, bawling, children stalling,

parents check the closet instead.

Writing by The Daily Mobster

Illustration and background wallpaper by Joshua Rhodes

Are you interested in submitting as a Guest Artist

or perhaps just some fan art? Please do so here!

Robot Scott

Robot Scott

The mob has gotten rather bright,
enlisting androids to fight their fight.
Made in secret warehouses, all homegrown,
the most dapper, dashing, deviant drone.

Robot Scott comes fully equipped,
nothing skimped and nothing skipped.
A suit and hat make a clever disguise,
hiding in plain sight, like one of the guys.

Should someone notice his metal face,
he’s the fastest runner, just in case.
Sonar, radar, gadgets galore,
the perfect machine to fight the war.

Robot Scott leaves no hints,
no hair, no blood, no fingerprints.
Running, hiding, fighting police,
brings a new meaning to elbow grease.

It seems that the losers are The Brass,
that is until he runs out of gas.
It’s times like that he’s a piece of junk,
they should have chosen steam, punk.

Check out Illustration Friday’s: The Future

Pierre “Pie” Pierce

Happy Pi Day

Pierre “Pie” Pierce

Sing a song of sixpence,
a pocket full of rye.
three point one four inch saw,
baked in a pie.

When the pie was opened,
Inmates began to shout;
hacking at the jail bars,
sawing, breaking out.

The warden, in his office,
sleeping all the day;
till alarms went ringing,
they ran to get away.

Sing a song of six men,
running for their lives,
with the help from a baker,
who sent them several knives.

The baker is off baking,
a P.I. showed at his door,
asking lots of questions,
on and on, forever more.

Packing up the truck,
apple, plum and grape
off to county prison,
to plan the next escape.

Carry pies carefully,
wipes his glasses clear.
Stands up straight and tall,
and puts on his face of cheer.

The baker meets the guard,
with a glimmer in his eye,
I’ll ask you once again, Sir,
What is in the pie?

Illustration Friday: “Eye Glasses”

Edgar “The Egg” Egmond

Edgar “Egg” Egmond

(In the alliterative key of E)

Every evil event expects exoneration.

Enter: Edgar “Egg” Egmond.

Exactingly, elegantly, erasing evidence,

evaluating, expunging every entry,

Edgar elicits eventual extenuation.

Escaping extraditions, eschewing edicts,

even evading examining experts.

Effectively, efficiently, expertly,

“Egghead Edgar” exempts everyone.

Ex-cons, evildoers, enduring endless

exposition, eventually evade enforcement,

egregiously eluding examination.

Exit: Edgar, effortlessly.

“Crow” McCay

“Crow” McCay

Perched up on the telephone pole,

sits a quiet, lonely soul.

Waiting, watching silently,

before swooping down violently.

In this town, there’s no lost-and-found

“Crow” picks up goodies dropped on the ground.

Coins, and jewels that folks may drop,

he can see it all from way up top.

Collecting and scavenging, keeping a stash

then off to the “Crow Bar” to spend his cash.

Just a common thief, a lonely birder,

working alone, avoiding things like murder.

First to the street before the sweepers,

finders keepers, losers weepers.

Illustration Friday: “Lonely”