Captain Blue and Queen Bee: The Continuing Adventures

By Jim Jackson

Back in 1968, Captain Blue was a high-flying, psychedelic commando battling a scourge of B-Movie monsters left over from 50s experiments. He even had his own cartoon! Now, he's an old man making his living off the convention circuit, the creatures he used to fight protected by human rights laws and the citizens he swore to help thinking he's par

• Language: English
• Publisher: Prairie Soul, Inc.
• Release date: Nov 9, 2021
• ISBN: 9781777129378

Book preview

advance praise

Jim Jackson is a modern day 1960's Historian and innovator the way he moves around several genres with utter ease and just perfect timing.

Joe Compton, Go Indie Now

book soundtrack

This book has a bip-bopping, psychedelic soundtrack to go with it! To listen while you read, scan either code below, or search Captain Blue and Queen Bee wherever you get your music.

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Episode 1

Superhero Blues

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1

1968

Ext. cityscape. A giant tree walks on its crabbed roots, twisting branches raised as angry arms and a contorted face formed of bark, lurches at a crowd of cowering citizens.

Tabonga, the Tree Monster: Your land will pay for what you did to my people. I, Tabonga, swear it!

Innocent Bystander #1: It’s Tabonga―murdered prince chief of a Pacific Island, reanimated by US atomic testing after he was entombed in an ancient tree!

The rest of the crowd stare at her.

Innocent Bystander #1: What? Don’t you watch the news?

Tabonga croaks out a creaking roar, and the crowd goes back to cowering.

Tabonga: Show me your nation’s champion, that I may defeat him in single combat and take my place on your throne.

From high above enters Captain Blue, hovering on hazy halos of blue light emanating from his palms, his hair waving above the mask that covers his eyes.

Captain Blue: You’re looking for a champion, my woody friend? I could tell you weren’t here for cookies and lemonade. (He hovers down to street level.) I just might fit the bill, hm, bucko?

Tabonga: You? A man who flies on light? You’re no champion. A real man is a creature of darkness. (He looks with bark-formed eyes at his tree body.) As I am.

Captain Blue: Now, now. That’s decidedly un-groovy. Let’s keep our insults above the belt, my good man. What will it take for you to stop wreaking havoc among these law-abiding citizens?

Tabonga: Ha! Nothing will stop me until I sit upon your nation’s throne, subjecting your citizens to the same death plague your people unleashed upon my island. And you will not stop me, man of light.

The center of the metal bandolier strapped across Captain Blue’s chest flashes.

Beauregard Bluebot (as metallic voice from the centre of the Blue Bandolier): Sir? I have calculated the strength of Tabonga’s outer bark, and I’m afraid the force needed to penetrate it will also reduce the body inside to pulp. There does not seem to be a way to subdue him without using … lethal force.

Captain Blue: That’s not going to happen, Beauregard. We harm no one who isn’t harming others. This poor guy’s suffered enough―he didn’t ask for bombs to go off on his island. Or to be turned into a tree. There has to be another way.

Beauregard Bluebot: If there is, sir, I’m afraid it isn’t in the realm of science.

Captain Blue (to Tabonga): Look, my good man―why don’t we talk about what I can do to make this right? What happened to your people was decidedly un-groovy, but that’s no reason to do the same to the law-abiding citizens of this fair city.

Tabonga: You cannot bring my father back from the fiery grave you bestowed upon him.

Captain Blue: That’s true, my good man. But maybe I can―

Tabonga reaches out his branch arms, and tendrils of wood and leaf fly from them. Captain Blue shoots into the air on his rings of light, but he’s too slow. The tendrils twist around his ankles and hurl him back to the street, ever closer to Tabonga’s gaping maw.

Captain Blue: It doesn’t have to be this way. We can make this right, hm? Let’s take those blues and make them groovy.

Tabonga: Never! Nothing is right with this world.

Beauregard Bluebot: Sir? I’ve calculated the chances of this plan working, and might I suggest once again the use of lethal force?

Captain Blue grits his teeth as probing, prehensile branches pull him to Tabonga’s snapping tree mouth.

2

Modern Day

Minutes before a chapter of his life began that he didn’t know would be his last, the man the world knew as Captain Blue, famed psychedelic commando and scourge of the late-sixties Monster Menace, zipped up his worn leather jacket, his no-longer-youthful physique straining against the aging zipper.

Getting smaller on me, eh? he said to his dressing room mirror. Typical.

The rectangle of plastic, metal and glass they told him was a telephone whirred and chugged on the dressing table, and his gloved fingers swiped at it, failing to unlock its urgent mysteries.

I probably didn’t want to talk to them anyway. He sucked in his belly and struck a mirror pose. Give me Beauregard Bluebot over these modern gadgets any day.

The blue light flared in the metal crossbelt tossed over a chair. And I would hope so, sir, a metallic voice said. I can do far more than those ridiculous contraptions ever could. And with considerably more panache. For example, I can tell you there’s a fan approaching the door. Five foot two, female, and between the ages of eighteen and twenty-five, judging by her pulse.

Captain Blue tossed his talking crossbelt onto his torso and buckled it. Well? Let her in, Beauregard.

The blue light dimmed. I’m afraid my powers do not extend to opening doors, sir.

Blue smiled. Then what good are you?

I’ll have you note that your telephonic contraption is also incapable of opening doors.

You’ve got it there, Beauregard. You’ve totally outsmarted an inanimate device. Is it time for a cookie?

A metallic sigh, and the light dimmed further. How many times do we need to go over this, sir? I require no sustenance, either for nourishment or for emotional encouragement.

I’ll stop saying it when you stop reacting that way. He looked to the closed door. Is she still there?

Yes, sir. Her hand is raised. I don’t believe it is in aggression.

A knock, tentative and probing, sounded on the dressing room door.

Blue opened it.

She stood there, her knuckles hanging in the air where the door had been.

Blue flashed his fan-convention grin. Can I help you, my good woman?

She stared without seeming to see him. It’s you. Her face darkened. "Is it you? She looked him up and down. I mean, you look …"

His grin slipped to a genuine smile. I know what I look like, my good woman. The years always take their due. He patted his gut. And leave a little behind, too.

What? No! Her dark skin reddened. No, I mean you look like a million bucks. It’s not that. It’s just that I expected something … more … less …

You’ve got to be careful, my good woman―I might develop a complex.

She shot out a slender hand. Skye Guzman. I’m a big fan. I’ve heard stories of you since I can remember stories.

Blue took her hand. All good, I hope.

Well, I say stories. It’s more one story. My grampa was downtown back in sixty-eight. He saw you with the Man-Beast of Og. I’ve heard that one quite a bit. But I’ve watched the cartoon, of course.

Blue’s smile rose back to his fan-convention grin. Oh, that thing. You know every episode was more than a bit exaggerated, hm? Not to downplay the real threat of the Monster Menace back in those days. But … well, think of the audience for a kiddie cartoon.

But the cartoon is what most people know you from, Captain.

All traces of a smile bled from his face. And what can I help you with, Skye?

What? Oh, right. I just wanted to meet you. I talked to your publicist―she tried to call you, and when there was no answer, she just sent me back here.

I see. He looked down at the Blue Bandolier. It seems that telephone thing can also tell me when there’s a fan coming.

A metallic hmph rang from Beauregard Bluebot.

Skye rummaged in her bag. "Yeah, I wanted