Calvin and Hobbes Tracer Bullet 2

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Anand S

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Jul 14, 2026, 6:00:49 AM (7 days ago) Jul 14
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In 2007, I extracted the first arc of the Tracer Bullet strips. I didn't realize I never shared the second arc. So, 19 years later, here it is. It remains my all-time favourite series from Calvin and Hobbes.

AUGH! Who did this? The Dame's scream hit an octave usually reserved for calling dogs, but it meant I had a case, and the sound of greenbacks slapping across my palm is music to my ears any day. After all, I'm not an opera critic. I'm a private eye.

I keep two magnum's in my desk. One's a gun, and I keep it loaded. The other's a bottle and it keeps ME loaded. I'm Tracer Bullet. I'm a professional snoop. It's a tough job, but then, I'm a tough guy. Some people don't like an audience when they work. Enough of them have told me so with blunt instruments that I'm a phrenologist's dream come true. Snooping pays the bills, though. Especially Bill, my bookie, and Bill, my probation officer. So when a tall brunette opened my door with a case for me, my heart did a few calisthenics and I took the job.

The dame said she had a case. She sounded like a case herself, but I can't choose my clients. She was the pushy type, the kind who'd break your heart, or maybe your arms. I hurried over. Either she had a psychotic decorator, or her place had been ransacked by someone in a big hurry. WELL?! How do you explain this? The dame was hysterical. Dames usually are.

What have you got to say for yourself? Don't touch anything. I'm looking for clues. The click of a hammer being cocked behind my head focused my thoughts like only a loaded .38 can. The dame had set me up! She didn't want me to solve the case at all! She just wanted a patsy to pin the crime on! Well? I didn't like the way this story was shaping up, so I decided to write a new ending with my .45 automatic as co-author.

I introduced the dame to a friend who's very close to my heart. Just a little down and left, to be specific. My friend is an eloquent speaker. He made three profound arguments, while I excused myself from the room. I always leave when the talk gets philosophical. You're in REAL trouble NOW, young man!!

I'd just finished putting the puzzle pieces together when the dame's hired goon jumped out of nowhere and practiced for his chiropractic degree. When the discussion was done, an all-percussion symphony was playing in my head, and the accoustics were incredible. The orchestra went on a ten-city tour of my brain. And I had a season pass with front row seats. I had figured out who trashed the dame's living room, but since she wasn't my client any more, I felt no need to divulge that information. Besides, the culprit happened to be a buddy of mine. I closed the case. I guess we should've played outside, huh?

This is funny at so many levels, but the wordplay is what sticks with me.

"I keep two magnum's in my desk. One's a gun, and I keep it loaded. The other's a bottle and it keeps ME loaded."

"Snooping pays the bills, though. Especially Bill, my bookie, and Bill, my probation officer."

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