The Shadow rears his nosy head again in a new, completely unauthorized adventure of lust, drugs, bizarrely misshapen female consorts...and shipboard romance. Accompanied by Charles P. Loafer, Esq., his always present side-kick, apprentice, gambler, former all-night hat check girl at Booth's Booth, corner Telephone & Telephone, and all around general handyman, master of few, jack of none, Lamont is on his way to the Orient aboard a cruise liner absent the entire crew. Along the way are canoe voyages through Bleak Regions; a ride on Air Force One (morphed into a reconstructed noodle box) navigated by two white-eared snipes, each one laughing hysterically and calling the other "co-pilot"; and a side-step into the Underground of Paranoia University where we meet the president doing unmentionable things to elephants at the St Canasta Zoo. Choleric, crabby, cranky, cross, crotchety, fiery, grouchy, grumpy, irascible, peevish, perverse, pettish, petulant, prickly, quick-tempered, raspy, ratty, short-tempered, snappish, snappy, irritable, snippety, snippy, stuffy, testy, waspish. Also plenty snarky, this satire infringes on the worst of Burroughs, Kerouac, Hunter S. Thompson, ee. cummings, et al., on those guys' really corked-out more than usual days. Readers who thrive on tension and excitement will feel themselves amply baffled; those who tend to question underlying assumptions, amply rewarded. Profusely illustrated, with confusing chapter headings.