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Lanyon series
Doolie Gough - ebook View larger

Doolie Gogh - ebook

A superhero whose reputation is in free-fall after accidentally leveling a bank and a museum, decides to moonlight as a supervillain.



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    Doolie Gogh is your everyday superhero. He can fly, he has super strength, speed and healing. But he also has a huge ego problem. His ego problem is so bad that he only performs heroics because of the public attention he gets from it. The saving people’s lives and stopping criminals is merely a side benefit.

    His reputation bombs after he accidentally destroys an entire bank and a museum while battling supervillians. He is called out by the powerful and no-nonsense Senator White to answer for the damage he has caused to the city.

    What will Doolie do?



Reviews

  • Grade 
    12/12/2014

    Doolie Gogh-ebook

    Very funny...it made my face hurt. A brave look at the world of super-heroes on the job and in their private lives. The insider look, the lowdown on the folks who wear their underwear on the outside of their pants. Very funny.

    Grade 
    08/12/2014

    Doolie Gogh

    Great read! I really enjoyed the main character. I hope there's a sequel!

    Grade 
    07/24/2014

    A great read!!!!

    Ever wonder what 'the public' really thinks of Superman, Batman and all the other Super Heroes?

    Well wonder no more after you have read Steven Ure's fascinating account of the life of Super Hero Dooley Gogh!

    A brand new perspective!

    Hope there will be a sequel!

    Write your review!

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    Doolie Gogh - ebook

    Doolie Gogh - ebook

    A superhero whose reputation is in free-fall after accidentally leveling a bank and a museum, decides to moonlight as a supervillain.



    EXCERPT

     

    “Hey, Arx!”

    Arx beamed his ferocious red eyes at him and snarled.

    “It’s my turn,” Doolie shouted, as he held up everything Arx had thrown at him—lamps, desks, coin rolls, money bags, chairs—and was now holding it directly over Arx.

    He first yanked down the conical crystal chandelier. It plunged to the ground—its bottom center tip, a single foot long Baccarat crystal, now perfectly aligned with Arx’s giant head. The whole chandelier was made into an enormous spear. It brought down a considerable chunk of the ceiling.

    That still wasn’t enough, and before the chandelier reached its target, the unfortunate Arx, Doolie launched all the furniture, currency, and everything else toward the squealing Arx. The five hundred pound, half-man half-machine couldn’t move so well. He’d built himself up for strength not speed, and it showed. He waddled his way from the ever-expanding shadow that marked his defeat. His eyes turned a pure, vibrant green just as he was hit by the chandelier, followed by everything else. It was loud even from Doolie’s vantage, up near the ceiling where he looked down at his sunken foe.

    Doolie shook his head. “About time the chandelier hit the freak.”

    He drifted back down to the lobby floor to check out the new pile of debris. Arx was buried from head to toe under what looked like a brand new landfill that filled up half the bank lobby. There was no way he could’ve survived that—even Doolie would have had a hard time walking after a hit like that. So when he noticed Arx’s fifty foot extendable arm still twitching and undulating up and down, he was a little surprised.

    Doolie cleared away some of the furniture and chandelier pieces from atop the pile and caught sight of Arx at the very bottom. He was out cold. Doolie sighed and forced a grin for anyone who may have been looking. He was happy he’d defeated him, but sad it hadn’t been much of a challenge.

    “It’s safe now,” he yelled to the remaining petrified bank staff and customers, who were still huddled near the lobby corners. “The clunker is out until at least Sunday.”

    He herded the last of the hostages out of the bank and down the grand stairway toward the sirens on the streets. It was a perfect photo op for the news press. The hostages’ faces were stricken with a cautious optimism and emotional exhaustion after being trapped in a bank with a madman for what seemed like a week. White plaster from the ceiling speckled their hair and clothing, and patches of sweat showed under their armpits and on their backs. They looked the part perfectly.

    Doolie led them down the stairs in triumph and stopped on the last step. He asked each of them if they were all right as they passed him by, and, perhaps, if it would be okay, too, if they congratulated him for his show of bravery. If they wanted to.

    They each responded with a muffled yes, nodded their head in appreciation for his service, and made their way onto the street to be greeted by the camera lights and the news reporters, who were throwing out simultaneous questions a mile a minute.

    All of Doolie’s rescues played their part beautifully, making him look good. That was, until he came across a rather disgruntled, droopy old man covered in plaster, who scowled his wrinkled face up at Doolie.

    “Are you okay, sir?” Doolie asked.

    “No, sonny,” he barked. “You spoiled my bank!”

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