How are you? I am fine. Your missus is not dead! She is in Gravelines Prison! Drop by and ask for Prisoner Cole. She is not very happy and missing all of you terribly.
Your good mate, Greg Bray, Esq.
P.S: When you get time, can you find out what’s happened to Trevor?”
Well, thanks to my tip off, the Phantom has finally found his wife. Why this sort of stuff is left up to me, I do not know?
And even though the Phantom has never replied to one of my many letters, I know he reads them because he always acts on my advice. Over the years I’ve helped him bust drug rings, arrest pirates, and bring corrupt politicians to heel. I’ve also supplied him with marital tips, helpful suggestions for looking after his pets, and advice on dealing with uppity pygmies. Sometimes I mail him tinea powder and various creams, to stave off fungal infections and prevent chafing, because anyone dashing about the deep woods while wearing a full body nylon suit is just asking for skin trouble.
In return he’s given me countless hours of reading pleasure. Phantom Phollowing runs in my Phamily. My Phather is also a big Phan. Years ago we all chipped in and paid for Dad’s membership into the Phantom Club. He appeared surprised and delighted with our gift, but for some reason, has been reluctant to put on his purple outfit and patrol the neighbourhood at night beating up baddies.
I would have joined, but the Phantom Phranchise has strict rules about having too many operatives working the same turf. Apparently the wolves don’t get along when they cross paths.
And even though I’ve never been able to locate the Phantoms’ country on a map of the world, I know that it is in the tropics somewhere, possibly in Asia, and peopled by African natives. You’d think that sort of demographic would be relatively simple to find?
I’ve been ridiculed for writing to him, but I still do it, because one day I might need his help and I’m certain he’ll pop by to assist a long term correspondent. Anyway, it’s not as if I’m writing to Santa Claus is it? But I feel sorry for the sad, lonely folk who do. Imagine how gullible you’d have to be to do that!