Dick Tracy by Mike Curtis and Charles Ettinger for May 25, 2014

Tabby hoofed it on horseback, shady past had caught up to himSunny day, he rode away, once bright future now dark and grim.Clark had done the unthinkable: he squealed like a pig and turned ratTabby loaded his pipe bowl full, his threats weren’t meant to cause that.Danger now at every turn: Blackhearts and the DetectivesEvery threat could not be killed, he’d have to be selective.An indignity to be forced to flee, last ride on his trusty SparkplugNo time to plan, now a hunted man, climbing out of the hole he’d dug.Ahead a small radio station: WDQPA truck parked there might prove to be his exit strategy.Knocking out Joe and Carl, things were going his wayWhen in burst Sam and Tracy: a kybosh on his play.The Banshee’s face could stop a clock, it made his stomach churnShe clobbered him with the mic stand, now it was Tracy’s turn.Tabby a cat nearly declawed, neutered as it wereWere he genuine feline, he’d cough up a ball of fur.