Guest Writer: Magnum P.I.

Well! At long last, a brave soul heeded the call for decent (at last!) writing on MK Tales. And a celebrity no less! He often gets confused with that guy from Blue Bloods. Magnum P.I., take it away…

A rare photo taken of me without my custom-ordered "Roy Ban" sunglasses.

I see you have been compiling stories of some truth about me without revealing my true identity. That’s good ’cause if you ever told I’d have to visit you (I know where you are) and …. …!  As you may well assume, I still exist and am living a life of retirement in the South Seas, destination top secret for security reasons!  I never give away my intentions to travel but  do occasionally make covert missions abroad, though never seen by those I pursue. In fact I am rarely seen by anyone except my wife and of course my Doctor. However I digress. I do keep a very close eye on you and your network of scheming photo providers! Beware I am watching (did I already say that?)
Since you are so interested in my life I thought I’d share a few thoughts with you of the adventure and dangers I endured during those years in South America. Now for a start I don’t assume to be as funny as you, but who knows how people will interpret my adventures!

It’s been awhile since my last mission in South America but the adventures still linger in my mind (pushing most of reality out).  It was back in the day around 2009 when I was last there. Yes… extreme heat from the jungle, tropical rains from the typhoons and pestilent bats from the hidden undiscovered caves. Ah, hang on a minute that was a different country, different mission. South America. Yes. The end of 1984.  I arrived with my adoring wife and three young children. I worked and lived at that school you so longingly tell stories of, you see I was also there when you were there and I saw what you saw. Yes of course you knew that cause you were there when I was there and saw what I saw (this is getting very confusing), and of course you know who I am really, no really!

Well I remember one trip into the campo (the Bolivian wilderness) to find one of my favourite foods, trout! Three of us started out early one morning in a green Toyota twin cab pickup owned by my trusted American side-kick and another American (heavily bearded) who was his trusted side-kick. Now this second side-kick was a mountain man with three daughters and a wife, but he knew how to survive in the mountains.  It was a long and arduous trip into the high Andes mountains, after many hours I asked my first side kick to stop the Toyota, I got out and sniffed the air searching for the lake that was surly nearby. In fact it was just around the corner, love that nose!   Anyhow, on arriving I stealthily crept up to the lake edge and cast my line into the water, yes many trout were caught that day. However on the last cast or there-abouts, number one side-kick drew back his line and cast forward with all his might…. whoosh! The lure flew through the air and then wham! It struck number one side-kick in the back of the head imbedding itself deep into the skull. Magnum P.I. (that’s me) swung into action and drew out his newly acquired Swiss Army knife with all the bells and whistles. Once I had removed the bells and whistles I opened the short blade and looked at number one side kick, he was very pale (ashen) as the blood was draining from his face, of course it was leaking out of the back of his head! (head wounds leak profusely). As number two side-kick held number one down I prepared to draw on my training, I had read a story once about a surgeon who… I digress again!  I proceeded to cut and dig deep into the skull with no antiseptic or anaesthetic, using all my skill and training,  eventually the lure came free, it was great to get the lure out as it was expensive and hard to come by in those days! With no way of stitching up the wound I carefully shaved all around it with the now blunted blade of my newly acquired Swiss Army Knife and stuck a plaster over the wound. Leaving number one side-kick faint and delirious, to recover in the tray of the pickup. With the light fading and having lost valuable time, I resumed the hunt for my favourite food: trout.

Signed, Magnum P.I.

One thought on “Guest Writer: Magnum P.I.

Leave a Reply