The Correspondence of Howard Hughes and Cobra Commander
Collected and Edited by
Steven Mangold
Dear
Cobra Commander,
I
realized that it has been awhile since we spoke last. Even longer since we last
have seen each other. I hope that soon we can get together and play some more
golf.
I
have recently taken up residence in the penthouse of the Sands Hotel. Drop by
sometime; Vegas is a fun place. I’ll show you around, introduce you to some
dancing girls. Major Bludd is welcome too, as long as he promises not to drink.
Your
friend,
Howard
--
Dear Howard,
Vegas! You’ve outdone yourself! It would certainly be a pleasure to
come and visit. Looking forward to meeting some dancing girls. I guess you’ll
have to make sure the wife isn’t around that night, eh?
I’ve set up shop in an abandoned zeppelin factory, just east of
some jungle in Costa Rica. Things are good here, but the mosquitoes are a
nuisance, and malaria has taken a number of my soldiers. I developed an
anti-mosquito turret gun with the help of Destro, but it seems to be shooting
far more of my men than it has mosquitoes. We might need to make it laser
guided.
Yours truly,
Cobra Commander
--
Dear
Cobra Commander,
Unfortunately,
Jean has decided not to accompany me to Vegas. I cannot tell you how much this
disturbs me. I have tried everything I can to entice her to come. Her excuse is
that she does not feel Vegas will be a permanent change for us or that our
relationship will get any better here. To be honest, I think she may be
cheating on me.
You
aren’t using the turret guns you stole from my warehouse about 5 years ago, are
you? That may be your problem. Aim is less precise on a rapid fire machine gun.
I fear even laser guidance would be of little use in improving their accuracy.
I
still have not seen much of Vegas. By the time I get done with business here,
all I have the energy for is to lay down in bed and watch some TV.
Best,
Howard
--
Howard, my friend,
I have been thinking about your situation with your wife. I have
consulted Dr. Mindbender, and he has a prototype chip that can control the
emotions of the average human brain. I think that if we were to train some
spider monkeys, we could send them into your wife’s room at night, where they
could surgically implant the chip into her medulla oblongata. Let me know,
because I have some spider monkeys that are going to waste here.
Mosquitoes are no longer a concern for me. My latest plans have
been foiled, and I am now living deep underneath New Hampshire. Destro and the
Baroness are having a difficult time in negotiations with molemen.
Make sure you get out and around town, Howard. People might think
you don’t exist. Make sure you catch Sinatra at the Sands before you leave
Vegas. I hear he’s fantastic.
Friends forever,
Cobra Commander
--
Dear
Cobra Commander,
Thank
you for your concern about my wife. Extend my thanks to Dr. Minderbender as
well. But, I have already taken care of the situation. I have her on
round-the-clock surveillance—the same surveillance teams I use on my dozen or
so mistresses. Now I know why they call them mistresses: you MISS-trust them,
almost as much as you MISS them!
I
plan to see Vegas soon, don’t worry. I look outside at the flashing neon, and I
can't wait to rouse some rabble. The papers here in Vegas mention me A LOT.
I’ve started a stack and plan to make some clippings later. You’ll have to
check it out and help me put together a scrapbook.
Privacy
is becoming pressing, so I’ve decided to purchase the whole damn hotel. I paid
twice what it was worth, but what the hell, I’m Howard Hughes.
If
you think dealing with mole people is tough, think about having to deal with
the mob types out here!
Best
wishes,
Howard
--
Dear Howard,
Forget the mole people! I’m tired of them. I’ll take the mob any
day. I think Destro was right, but I’m afraid to admit it. I think he knows
that I’m afraid to admit it.
We’ve currently set up base in Angkor Wat. It’s scenic, but kind of
creepy. Sometimes it’s hard to sleep when you have many-faced demon-looking
gods carved into every wall.
What do you know about sonar? What about the capacity for dolphins to use some sort of poison dart air guns? Destro is being totally uncooperative about this.
Sincerely,
Cobra Commander
--
Dear
Cobra Commander,
I
know what it’s like to have uncooperative underlings. Feels like I have to
watch every move my underlings make. At this point I’ve almost given up ever
enjoying Vegas. I don’t even have time to get a haircut. Work work work.
I’ve
sent a team of sonar specialists, as well as a few marine biologists to you
there in Angkor Wat. They should be there by the time you receive this letter.
Hope that helps!
I
have trouble sleeping too. Vegas never seems to stop. I hadn’t counted on how
light from the neon signs would shine through my windows. The constant blinking
and changes of color keep me up at night. Curtains don’t seem to help. I’m
thinking of temporarily covering the windows with black duct tape.
Your
Friend,
Howard
--
Dear Howard,
Have you considered attaching giant boosters to the sides of your
hotel? You could launch into a near earth orbit each night or whenever you
decide to sleep, returning to earth in the morning and saving you the hassle of
duct taping your windows shut.
I wish you had sent the letter before sending the specialist. I
believed them to be spies and they were slowly cut to pieces until they died
from the shock. Torturing wasn’t my idea, but the spider monkeys needed
something to do.
I’m in Antarctica now, looking for the hidden prehistoric lands. If
I can find some dinosaurs with psychic abilities, I’ll surely have the Joes in
my grasp.
Truly,
Cobra Commander
--
Dear
Cobra Commander,
The
booster idea is a good one, but it has some flaws. For one thing, I’d be closer
to the sun and its light. Even if I managed to stay in an orbit slow enough to
keep me on the side of the earth opposite from the sun, I’d have the reflected
light of the sun bouncing off the moon and into my windows.
Also,
it would cut down on the profits of the casino downstairs, since walk-in
traffic at night would be a virtual impossibility. Duct tape seems to work
well, as a semi-temporary solution.
Work
is horrendous. I’ve parsed out certain responsibilities, but keeping the big
picture in mind is exhausting. Seems like I don’t even have time to bathe
anymore.
I’m
getting impatient with the way politics are going in America. The things you
have to do to buy off a politician are ridiculous nowadays. Then they act like
it’s all the struggle in the world to keep you from being indicted for
monopolistic practices.
Frustrated,
Howard
Hughes
--
Howard,
Bribery? Wouldn’t it be easier to create some sort of underground
drilling device and threaten to rip the ground out from under New Hampshire?
Eventually the government would comply with your whims. Why waste money on
bribes?
I’m in Finland now. I PROMISE, my next stop is Vegas. I don’t care
how much work you have to do, I’m going to get you out of that room and we are
going to tear the city apart (winky-smiley).
First, I have to finish up here. The sentient robots I’ve hired to
do my bidding are proving to be more trouble than they are worth. I keep having
to use Zartan to masquerade as Steve McQueen (the only human that the robots
respect).
Always,
Cobra Commander
P.S. Make a space elevator for walk in traffic and you can still
send the hotel into orbit. Just an idea.
---
Dear
Cobra Commander,
Respect
is an issue I am constantly dealing with. Respect and germs. The germs seem to
be everywhere, even on the small group of Mormons whom I have hired to wait on
me.
They
are learning respect, though, and they have finally stopped insisting that I have
to wear clothes or that I should bathe at least once a month. I do place
a linen cloth over my genitals when they bring me my meal or correspondence.
But this is for my privacy, not because they have “won” the clothing battle.
My
bedsores sometimes make it uncomfortable for me to get a decent night's sleep,
but sleep is beyond me now anyway. I bought a TV station to play old movies all
night for my entertainment. Pretty neato!
I
was wondering if you could ask Dr. Mindbender for some advice on my behalf. I
seem to be growing a tumor on the left side of my forehead. It’s about golf
ball-sized, and it hasn’t really bothered me until now. But I’ve developed the
habit of poking it with my pencil. It’s a compulsion that I have trouble
breaking, and I would like to make the tumor go away as quickly as possible.
Since I don’t trust standard sterilization techniques, is there some form of
rudimentary surgery I could perform on myself?
I
have about 8 dozen ceiling-high piles of newspapers for us to go through when
you get here, it’s going to be a hell of a scrap book!
You’re
the only one I’d trust to come near me, other than the Mormons. I secretly long
for human contact that I don’t control, and whatever can be said about you,
you’re always your own man.
I
warn you though, I cannot shake hands with you, for my fingernails are many
inches in length, and will soon be curling in under themselves.
I
can’t wait to enjoy your company.
With
great affection,
Howard.
P.S.
I have even requested a brand new loin cloth to be placed over my genitals for
your arrival!
--
To Howie,
I won’t be able to make it to Vegas after all. Turns out Destro had
an idea about using some middle eastern dictators as puppet rulers under our
command. It’s just crazy enough to work.
I talked to Dr. Mindbender about the tumor, among other things. He
suggests that you take the black tape off one of your windows, open said
window, and plunge to your death on the concrete below. I’m inclined to agree.
I told Destro about your current situation, he laughed and said it
would work perfectly for his plans, then corrected himself by saying “our
plans.” That guy scares me sometimes.
Anyway, I think it’s best if you never write me again. You’re a
nice guy and all, but we don’t have that much in common anymore. If you ever
decide to shower again, drop me a line.
Adios,
Cobra Commander.