A night on the town

I think I shall name him Pepito, after my cousin Pepe from Madrid. They have a similar hairstyle, and share a fondness for sausage. Conrad has been complaining about this hunger, but there is simply no help for it. He should be glad it is a Gigantopithecus americanus rather than Gigantopithecus giganticus or we should have been forced to ship full-grown African wildebeest in from Rhodesia at great expense, and feeding would have been a much more unpleasant affair.

I suspect you have gathered that I have had a strange night. Well I will admit that we did not find the poker game of Boss Aprile. It is very frustrating, and now my friend Randolph is dead. He was to meet me at the Emerald Palace (this was already late in the night), but was very late. The Palace is a, how you say, a talkeasy with fine brandy and excellent gin. It was a favorite place for Randolph, who always said the singer was the finest in town. He was not far wrong – she was remarkably beautiful, an ivory rose with a voice like the weeping of angels. Nick as well thought she was a sight (this is the reason that he has gotten even less sleep last night than I!), and he played very well on his particular form of, what is the word, brooding charm. Of course, it was probably no hindrance that she had already consumed several glasses of the Nuage d'Or I had delivered to the table.

I am not ashamed to lose a woman to a friend like Nick. And in truth, an American Swamp Stomper is a much more rare thing to have kissed than even a woman as exquisite as Miss Cardinal the singer, though I concede that this is probably not without reason. Pepito is a handsome specimen, but his breath was quite terrible. Ah, I apologize, I am getting ahead of myself.

Well what happened was that Randolph was dead. They found him just outside the back entrance to the Palace and his neck had been cut. Forgive me, but this was a difficult sight. Randolph was my friend since my first tour of America with Señor del Torro, and we had lost much money to each other over the years – in fact, I believe I still owe him some several hundred American dollars. Well, I can at least buy my friend a stone for his grave, and his wife a fine dress for mourning.

It was Nick who found Pepito's hair on Randolph's body. I of course recognized the hair of the sasquatch immediately, and together Nick and I determined he would be in the butchery area near the train depot. When we arrived Pepito had been making a big mess and was running very fast. Ignacio was understandably frightened, but composed himself admirably. Unfortunately Nick was overcome by the spirit of Hannibal, which is my least favorite of his moods. Ignacio nearly got us killed by crashing into a pole where the beast flipped us, but it was my fault for having him drive in such a crowd.

I am very irritated at Nick for wounding Pepito. He simply will not listen when the angry ghost is within him. It is lucky he did eventually throw down his knives like I suggested, otherwise he would have been stomped by a Swamp Stomper (which I must admit would have been very amusing in retrospect). We were able to charm the creature briefly, but I made a mistake and when Nick began gyrating Pepito took grave offense and grabbed him by the neck. I remembered something very important however, which is why I gave the sasquatch a kiss and he set down my friend (Hannibal had left by this time).

We led Pepito back to the apartment I am renting, which I have decided to purchase outright. I have already begun to send for my books to establish my permanent library here. I enjoy the penthouse view, and I suppose I could grow used to the excitement of New York. Oh, and I did a bit of reading to refresh my memory, and I now believe that Pepito is under the impression that I am his mother. I am not sure what to make of this, but I have grown fond of the hairy creature. Perhaps he may live with me here in New York. I worry that this will upset Conrad, but he is being paid a sum that is at least fair for his troubles.

Well, I must be going. I have decided to draw out Boss Aprile with a game of my own, and must go meet with Mr. Thorn the painter at noon. I will ask to wager his painting, and I hope he will understand.


- Carlos Guillermo M.R.T.F.H. del Sol

El Diamante

The rainy afternoons in New York

Another ruined collar. I seem to go through so many. Perhaps I should be investing in the, how are they called, the coveralls that I see these Americans wearing. That ugly blue canvas they are made of would surely support the weight of a man without a tear!

I jest, of course, I jest. I suppose my abuela would say the problem is not my collars, but my habit for being dangled by them. I admit this is a problem. At least this time it was for a woman, and not...well okay it is always a woman, but this one was particularly lovely. The men here in America look very ridiculous, but this woman, she was truly a wonderful sight – nearly as beautiful as her husband was ugly. Of course a flash of the del Sol jewels convinced him to set me down (but it did not save my collar!), and I was able to leap down into the sculpture garden below. This is a maneuver that I have been practicing against just such a scenario, and I think it went very well.

Oh, I have forgotten to tell why I am in New York! Well I had come to visit my friend Nick of the Century Club (this is the one with the monkey of jade) and then we were invited to see these arts – it was a painting, but I was distracted and then found myself being dangled. I don't know how it happened, but the painted was stolen and the building was lit on fire. In the end we saved the painting, however.

There was much mystery around this attempt of theft, but it seems like there will be adventure. Mr. Thorn the painter was a very strange man who I liked. I will be meeting him at his home tomorrow, but right now Nick and I are soon going to "hit the town" as they say here in New York. These thieves with guns had been hypnotized, it seems, playing a game of poker – and of course I must try to find this game and the man who is running it. His name is Boss Aprile, and I think he is important (and Mr. Thorn thinks so as well). Perhaps when I win his game I may buy some new collars! Hahah, joking again. I brought two dozens of spares.

Oh, Nick has finished his bathing. Wish me luck tonight!


- Carlos Guillermo M.R.T.F.H. del Sol

El Diamante