Queen Of The Jungle Quotes

I’m the king of the jungle. I’m the predator.” “Does that make me your prey?” “That makes you my queen.

Oh, a sleeping drunkard Up in Central Park, And a lion-hunter In the jungle dark, And a Chinese dentist, And a British queen-- All fit together In the same machine. Nice, nice, very nice; Nice, nice, very nice; Nice, nice, very nice-- So many different people In the same device.

She was mine. She was all fucking mine.I was the king of the jungle, and the woman beside me was my queen.

Oh, a lion hunter in the jungle dark, And a sleeping drunkard up in central park, and a Chinese dentist and a British queen All fit together in the same machine. Nice, nice, such very different people in the same device!

Nawat grinned. “I was helping to steal soldiers who couldn't keep up.” “What do you do with them?” she asked, curious. “I haven't heard of bodies being found.” “Nor will you,” Nawat informed her, sitting on a corner of the worktable. “They were still alive when we gave them to my warriors at the edge of the jungle.” He picked up Aly's hand and laced his fingers with hers. “My warriors will be able to say they last saw the missing soldiers alive, when the troops went on a visit to the jungle.” Aly walked her free fingers over their entwined hands. “But why would Crown soldiers visit the jungle?” “They didn't think they would at first,” Nawat admitted. “So my warriors show them the beauties of the deep jungle. They take away all the things the soldiers have of the civilized world, such as clothes and weapons and armor, so the soldiers will appreciate the jungle with their entire bodies. But my warriors have seen jungle before, so they get bored and leave. The soldiers stay longer.” “Like the tax collectors,” Aly whispered, awed by the beauty of what he described. “Take away all they have and leave them to survive the jungle. If you're questioned under truthspell, you can say they were alive when you left them. And the only way they could survive naked out there . . .” Nawat was shaking his head. Aly nodded. “I take it you don't leave them near any trails.” “They are there to appreciate the jungle that has been untouched by humans,” Nawat told her, a teacher to a student who did not quite understand. Aly sighed. “I am limp with envy,” she told him. “Simply limp.

You may growl, and hiss, and meow, and maybe sometimes you bring out those claws, but I know how to make you purr. I'm the king of the jungle. I'm the predator." "Does that make me your prey?" He shakes his head. "That makes you my queen.

Ah, what sights and sounds and pain lie beneath that mist. And we had thought that our hard climb out of that cruel valley led to some cool, green and peaceful, sunlit place---but it's all jungle here, a wild and savage wilderness that's overrun with ruins. But put on your crown, my Queen, and we will build a New City on these ruins.

draw a woman who’s as powerful as Superman, as sexy as Miss Fury, as scantily clad as Sheena the jungle queen, and as patriotic as Captain America.

Oh, a sleeping drunkard Up in Central Park, And a lion-hunter In the jungle dark, And a Chinese dentist, And a British queen-- All fit together In the same machine. Nice, nice, very nice; Nice, nice, very nice; Nice, nice, very nice-- So many different people In the same device.

I especially treasured my glimpses of Mother, Queen Cleopatra VII. She sat on a golden throne, looking as resplendent as one of the giant marble statues guarding the tombs of the Old Ones. Diamonds twinkled in a jungle of black braids on her ceremonial wig. She wore a diadem with three rearing snakes and a golden broad collar, shining with lapis lazuli, carnelian, and emeralds, over her golden, form-fitting pleated gown. In one hand, she held a golden ankh of life, while the other clasped the striped crook and flail of her divine rulership. Her stillness radiated power, like a lioness pausing before the pounce. It left me breathless with awe.

The country is like a great sponge—it finally absorbs you. Eventually you will get malaria or you will get dysentery and whatever you do, if you don't keep doing it, the jungle will grow over you. Black or white, you've got to fight it every minute of the day.

We lived only to dance. What was the true characteristic of a queen, I wondered later on; and you could argue that forever. “What do we all have in common in this group?” I once asked a friend seriously, when it occurred to me how slender, how immaterial, how ephemeral the bond was that joined us; and he responded, “We all have lips.” Perhaps that is what we all had in common: no one was allowed to be serious, except about the importance of music, the glory of faces seen in the crowd. We had our songs, we had our faces! We had our web belts and painter’s jeans, our dyed tank tops and haircuts, the plaid shirts, bomber jackets, jungle fatigues, the all-important shoes.

That I belonged to him, and always have. That we are bound to one another, and to this place, and that running is no longer an option. For either of us.

Gliana," he says. "You are mine now.

One good look at her and I’m purring like a fucking pussy cat? No. Hell, no.

V. R. Lang You are so serious, as if a glacier spoke in your ear or you had to walk through the great gate of Kiev to get to the living room. I worry about this because I love you. As if it weren't grotesque enough that we live in hydrogen and breathe like atomizers, you have to think I'm a great architect! and you float regally by on your incessant escalator, calm, a jungle queen. Thinking it a steam shovel. Looking a little uneasy. But you are yourself again, yanking silver beads off your neck. Remember, the Russian Easter Overture is full of bunnies. Be always high, full of regard and honor and lanolin. Oh ride horseback in pink linen, be happy! and ride with your beads on, because it rains.

At first, I was scared to be alone. No routines. No rules. Just me. But I think..." Taylor wiped a tear away. "I think I was always in the jungle. Before. It was always there. I think I had to come out here to find the answer." "And what did you find?" "I love myself. They make it so hard for us to love ourselves." Taylor stared off into the dark. Her face gleamed with tears. Snot ran over her lips. "The judges won't like that answer." "Nobody's judging you." Taylor choked on a sob. "Always," she whispered.

Oh, a sleeping drunkard Up in Central Park, And a lion-hunter In the jungle dark, And a Chinese dentist, And a British queen— All fit together In the same machine. Nice, nice, very nice; Nice, nice, very nice; Nice, nice, very nice— So many different people In the same device.

Whatever you wish, you shall have it. Whatever you desire, it shall be yours. I shall take or spare the lives of anyone you want. I will remake this world into a jungle oasis, if it would make you smile but once. I will wear that oafish and childish mask, wear a suit of wool and sculpt for you a home of ostentatious pride and glowing blinking lights if that is for what you yearn.” She called his bluff. “Then do it.” “I have made my fee known. Only if you agree to become my queen. Stand at my side. If you think I am such a vicious mongrel, then temper me. Show me how to better wield my power, if you think my ego is so insufferable.

When we pull back into the castle courtyard, James is waiting. And he does not look happy. Actually he looks like a blond Hulk . . . right before he goes smash. Sarah sees it too. “He’s miffed.” “Yep.” We get out of the car and she turns so fast there’s a breeze. “I should go find Penny. ’Bye.” I call after her. “Chicken!” She just waves her hand over her shoulder. Slowly, I approach him. Like an explorer, deep in the jungles of the Amazon, making first contact with a tribe that has never seen the outside world. And I hold out my peace offering. It’s a Mega Pounder with cheese. “I got you a burger.” James snatches it from my hand angrily. But . . . he doesn’t throw it away. He turns to one of the men behind him. “Mick, bring it here.” Mick—a big, truck-size bloke—brings him a brown paper bag. And James’s cold blue eyes turn back to me. “After speaking with your former security team, I had an audience with Her Majesty the Queen last year when you were named heir. Given your history of slipping your detail, I asked her permission to ensure your safety by any means necessary, including this.” He reaches into the bag and pulls out a children’s leash—the type you see on ankle-biters at amusement parks, with a deranged-looking monkey sticking its head out of a backpack, his mouth wide and gaping, like he’s about to eat whoever’s wearing it. And James smiles. “Queen Lenora said yes.” I suspected Granny didn’t like me anymore; now I’m certain of it. “If I have to,” James warns, “I’ll connect this to you and the other end to old Mick here.” Mick doesn’t look any happier about the fucking prospect than I am. “I don’t want to do that, but . . .” He shrugs, no further explanation needed. “So the next time you feel like ditching? Remember the monkey, Your Grace.” He puts the revolting thing back in its bag. And I wonder if fire would kill it. “Are we good, Prince Henry?” James asks. I respect a man willing to go balls-to-the-wall for his job. I don’t like the monkey . . . but I respect it. I flash him the okay sign with my fingers. “Golden.

Isis in Darkness, he writes. The Genesis. It exalts him simply to form the words. He will exist for her at last, he will be created by her, he will have a place in her mythology after all. It will not be what he once wanted: not Osiris, not a blue-eyed god with burning wings. His are humbler metaphors. He will only be the archaeologist; not part of the main story, but the one who stumbles upon it afterwards, making his way for his own obscure and battered reasons through the jungle, over the mountains, across the desert, until he discovers at last the pillaged and abandoned temple. In the ruined sanctuary, in the moonlight, he will find the Queen of Heaven and Earth and the Underworld lying in shattered white marble on the floor. He is the one who will sift through the rubble, groping for the shape of the past. He is the one who will say it has meaning. That too is a calling, that also can be a fate. He picks up a filing-card, jots a small footnote on it in his careful writing, and replaces it neatly in the mosaic of paper he is making across his desk. His eyes hurt. He closes them and rests his forehead on his two fisted hands, summoning up whatever is left of his knowledge and skill, kneeling beside her in the darkness, fitting her broken pieces back together.

A soldier’s hand grasped for me, but Amar pulled me away. Arrows zoomed past, but each time one came near, he would whirl me out of the way. Amar never shouted. He didn’t even speak. He moved fluidly, dodging javelins, always a few steps behind me, a living shield. His hood never budged and revealed nothing more than the bottom half of his face. The doors began to open, creaking like broken bones. Blinding light spilled into the room. I squinted against the brightness, but my feet never stopped. Hot, dry air filled my lungs and left them aching. The second I slowed, I felt a cool hand on my wrist-- “My mount is this way,” said Amar, pulling me away from the road. I was too out of breath to protest as his hands circled my waist and lifted me onto the richly outfitted saddle of a water buffalo. The moment I found my grip, Amar leapt onto the animal’s back and, with a sharp whistle, sent dust flying around us. The water buffalo charged through the jungle. Sounds bled one into the other--crashing iron to thundering hooves, gurgling fountains to colliding branches. At first, I sat still, not wanting to disturb a thing in case this was a death-dream, some final taunt of escape. But then I saw the jungle arcing above me. My nose filled with the musk of damp, alive things. The numb evanesced. I was free.

I’ll tell you what,” she said, prepared to make a deal. “Let’s see how your ‘diplomacy’ would profit us. If you can give me a decent solution to a pretend situation, I’ll agree to have you accompany me instead of Shanks. Although, I don’t know how wise it is to leave a Viidun captain on the Kemeniroc in your absence.” Derian agreed to the test. “Okay, what’s your question?” She thought hard for a moment; her eyes scrunching in concentration, lips pulled down to one side. Then, as a crooked grin spread across her lips, she set up an imagined scenario. “Pretend we’re down on the planet with this King Wennergren when he graciously offers to walk us through his cherished garden. While we’re there he begs me to touch his favorite, award-winning flower, hoping my powers will make it thrive and blossom. But for some strange reason it doesn’t respond to me the way plants do on our world. Instead of thriving, the flower withers and dies right before his shocked and furious eyes. Now pretend he’s easily offended and has a horrible temper…” Derian cut it. “You have no idea what his temperament is like.” “I know. That’s not the point.” Her eyes scolded him for interrupting. “Just pretend that he becomes outraged by my actions, assuming that I purposefully destroyed his prized plant. The angry king orders both of us to be seized and thrown into his deep, dark, inescapable dungeon. But, somehow we manage to dodge his line of soldiers and run into a nearby congested jungle, hiding beneath the foliage from our determined pursuers. “Finally, pretend that we trudge along for hours, so deep within the trees that we begin to hear howling in the distance from dangerous, hungry beasts. They seem to sound off all around us. Every now and then we hear weapon’s fire as King Wennergren’s men fend off these wild animals. This only reminds us that the soldiers are still in pursuit. Far, far buried within the dark jungle we spot a clearing and head for it. Unfortunately, once we reach it we come across an entire pack of ferocious animals who begin to stalk us. So we turn around, only to face a line of soldiers from behind, pointing their weapons our direction. We’re surrounded by danger on both sides, Derian! Now, what do you do?” She looked at him, wide-eyed and expectant. “Eena, you have a terribly overactive imagination,” he said flatly. She rolled her eyes, then impatiently asked him again, “Well? What would you do?” “I’d stop pretending." She fell back in her chair, groaning. “You’re still not going.” “Try and stop me,” he dared. “You know I can,” she reminded him. He glared at her. “When the time comes, we’ll see.

The evolutionary landscape of the city is now nearly completely revealed to us. There are close encounters of the first kind—the tough but static physical and chemical structure of the city (heat, light, pollution, impenetrable surfaces and all the other urban features we saw in Section II of this book). Evolution as a result of such encounters may come to a standstill when the perfect adaptation is reached. Then there are the even more exciting close encounters of the second kind. These happen where urban animals and plants interact with aspects of the city that are not static, namely where they involve other animals and plants, including humans—all of which could, in principle, respond by changing themselves. This kind of encounter is all the more exciting because it may lead to “Red Queen” evolution: evolutionary arms races where both partners keep finding new ways to gain the upper hand. In theory, such evolution never stops. Yet there is one final part of this urban evolutionary landscape that we have so far skirted around. In the previous chapters, we have seen close encounters of the second kind involving interactions between species. But what about that particularly close encounter within a species? Males and females of the same species also evolve to adapt to each other—we call this sexual selection. It would be naïve to think that there is no urban impact on the amorous animal.

The thunder howled and the rain splashed, the leaves played with the breeze and the lightning flashed, and the tigress growled at last. She looked here and she looked there, she hadn't seen so much rain anywhere, a desire suddenly came in her heart, a mad longing that had to start, she felt deep love in the rain, looking at her cubs all over again But two years ago she had been wounded, By cowardly men who wanted her grounded, They were afraid of her power, they wanted to capture her and to enslave her in their tower They laid traps and they waited in the trees, The jungle was full of birds and the bees, The tigress was out hunting for meat, her cubs awaiting in the cave for their treat There was something missing in the air, the fragrance of jasmine was not there, The tigress looked up into the trees and saw the men's faces painted in grease, She challenged them looking into their eyes, And saw fear, fright , and faces full of lies! She roared with all her might, This was her land, She had all the right! The cowardly men crouching behind the trees, Fired their guns in twos and threes, The brave Tigress looked them in the eye, She was the fire and she was the sky, Indomitable force, invincible power, She was the Tigress, The Queen in her Empire None of the bullets could break her Spirit, Only one could graze her right leg a bit, She roared with all her heart's might, For she was the Queen for all to sight! The guns emptied and no more bullets to shoot, The cowardly men jumped from the trees and ran away in two hoots! The Tigress laughed and loudly roared, For she was the power and her Spirit soared She is the Tigress inside every Woman, She has the Power to defeat any Man, Love her and she would love you back, Respect her and she would respect you back, Dare to harm her and she would defeat you till the Last!

THE DEMANDS MADE by a work of this nature upon the generosity of specialists are very numerous, and the Editor would be wanting in all title to the generous treatment he has received were he not willing to make the fullest possible acknowledgment of his indebtedness. His thanks are due in the first place to the scholarly and accomplished Bahadur Shah, baggage elephant 174 on the Indian Register, who, with his amiable sister Pudmini, most courteously supplied the history of ‘Toomai of the Elephants’ and much of the information contained in ‘Servants of the Queen’. The adventures of Mowgli were collected at various times and in various places from a multitude of informants, most of whom desire to preserve the strictest anonymity. Yet, at this distance, the Editor feels at liberty to thank a Hindu gentleman of the old rock, an esteemed resident of the upper slopes of Jakko, for his convincing if somewhat caustic estimate of the national characteristics of his caste–the Presbytes. Sahi, a savant of infinite research and industry, a member of the recently disbanded Seeonee Pack, and an artist well known at most of the local fairs of Southern India, where his muzzled dance with his master attracts the youth, beauty, and culture of many villages, have contributed most valuable data on people, manners, and customs. These have been freely drawn upon, in the stories of ‘Tiger-Tiger!’ ‘Kaa’s Hunting’, and ‘Mowgli’s Brothers’. For the outlines of ‘Rikki-tikki-tavi’ the Editor stands indebted to one of the leading herpetologists of Upper India, a fearless and independent investigator who, resolving ‘not to live but know’, lately sacrificed his life through over-application to the study of our Eastern Thanatophidia. A happy accident of travel enabled the Editor, when a passenger on the Empress of India, to be of some slight assistance to a fellow-voyager. How richly his poor services were repaid, readers of the ‘White Seal’ may judge for themselves.

One can take the ape out of the jungle, but not the jungle out of the ape. This also applies to us, bipedal apes. Ever since our ancestors swung from tree to tree, life in small groups has been an obsession of ours. We can’t get enough of politicians thumping their chests on television, soap opera stars who swing from tryst to tryst, and reality shows about who’s in and who’s out. It would be easy to make fun of all this primate behavior if not for the fact that our fellow simians take the pursuit of power and sex just as seriously as we do. We share more with them than power and sex, though. Fellow-feeling and empathy are equally important, but they’re rarely mentioned as part of our biological heritage. We would much rather blame nature for what we don’t like in ourselves than credit it for what we do like. As Katharine Hepburn famously put it in The African Queen, ”Nature, Mr. Allnut, is what we are put in this world to rise above.” This opinion is still very much with us. Of the millions of pages written over the centuries about human nature, none are as bleak as those of the last three decades, and none as wrong. We hear that we have selfish genes, that human goodness is a sham, and that we act morally only to impress others. But if all that people care about is their own good, why does a day-old baby cry when it hears another baby cry? This is how empathy starts. Not very sophisticated perhaps, but we can be sure that a newborn doesn’t try to impress. We are born with impulses that draw us to others and that later in life make us care about them. The possibility that empathy is part of our primate heritage ought to make us happy, but we’re not in the habit of embracing our nature. When people commit genocide, we call them ”animals”. But when they give to the poor, we praise them for being ”humane”. We like to claim the latter behavior for ourselves. It wasn’t until an ape saved a member of our own species that there was a public awakening to the possibility of nonhuman humaneness. This happened on August 16, 1996, when an eight-year-old female gorilla named Binti Jua helped a three-year-old boy who had fallen eighteen feet into the primate exhibit at Chicago’s Brookfield Zoo. Reacting immediately, Binti scooped up the boy and carried him to safety. She sat down on a log in a stream, cradling the boy in her lap, giving him a few gentle back pats before taking him to the waiting zoo staff. This simple act of sympathy, captured on video and shown around the world, touched many hearts, and Binti was hailed as a heroine. It was the first time in U.S. history that an ape figured in the speeches of leading politicians, who held her up as a model of compassion. That Binti’s behavior caused such surprise among humans says a lot about the way animals are depicted in the media. She really did nothing unusual, or at least nothing an ape wouldn’t do for any juvenile of her own species. While recent nature documentaries focus on ferocious beasts (or the macho men who wrestle them to the ground), I think it’s vital to convey the true breadth and depth of our connection with nature. This book explores the fascinating and frightening parallels between primate behavior and our own, with equal regard for the good, the bad, and the ugly.

Elizabeth was so sweet this afternoon trying to show P.B. his sitting room. He became absorbed in some jungle prints along the passage and would not come. The corners of her mouth went down after the third attempt & putting both hands on his shoulders she said angelically: ‘Bertie do listen to me.’ He kissed her and came at once.

The boundaries of her prior life were gone. Here now was an incredible vastness of jungle. She was alone among sounds that were alien.

I am not your mother. “No one in this world can love that girl like her mother,” they told me, the day I tore out my hair to hold you. My hair, the raft lashed with pitch darts that kept you. My hair, the mantle against less honourable creatures who blow kisses with crusted lips. They measure you for marvelous coffins. My dead hair was never your shroud.   My hair is the hundred thousand wires of my love and it holds you safe. In its jungle, you are queen. In it, you learned that ink and blood and salt, these three, grow the truest trees.   I

There were crooked photos on the wall of Della Lee as a child, with dark hair and eyes. Josey wondered when she started dyeing her hair blond. In one photo she was standing on top of a jungle gym. In another she was diving not the public pool from the high dive. She looked like she was daring the world to hurt her.

Technically, Sheena predates even Superman, having first appeared in the primordial dawn of comic books in 1937. But her true origins are older than that. Sheena is often described as the female version of Edgar Rice Burroughs’ 1912 creation, Tarzan. The majority of Burroughs’ popular works revolves around a tension between the savage and the civilized, also seen in Sheena’s adventures. Burroughs’ work, like that of fellow adventure writer H. Rider Haggard, came out of the colonial era, and was written for men and boys who yearned for an escape from stifling modern life, through tales of dangerous worlds and exotic women. The common theme of these stories is that a man from the civilized world finds his way to a fantastic, often barbaric, world of adventure, where he falls in love with an intoxicating savage princess. While most of Burroughs’ heroines, like Dejah Thoris or Dian the Beautiful, were in need of rescuing, Haggard’s 1886 novel She introduced a stronger heroine. The novel’s English protagonist encounters the beautiful queen Ayesha, the ruler of a lost city in Africa. Ayesha is referred to as “she who must be obeyed,” and is a creature that provokes both fear and lust. Ayesha was the ultimate fantasy of civilized man: the beautiful, savage white queen, ruling a kingdom unhindered by the laws of modern morality. This brand of men’s fiction produced the swirling foam of exotic and erotic fantasy from which rose the jungle Venus known as Sheena. (...) Now that we have some historical context on these female monarchs, let’s talk about their specific origins. In the 1930s, there were several studios that produced art and stories for the various publishers who were getting into the new field of comic books. One of the most successful and prolific was the Universal Phoenix Studio, operated by two young artists named Will Eisner and Jerry Iger. In 1937, they created a female Tarzan-type character named Sheena for the British tabloid Wags. The strip was credited to the pseudonym W. Morgan Thomas, and the heroine’s name was meant to remind readers of H. Rider Haggard’s She. Demand for new comic book material was growing in the United States, and American pulp magazine publisher Fiction House was looking for material for a new comic book. Sheena made her American debut in 1938’s Jumbo Comics #1, just three months after Superman’s now legendary first appearance. She was the first female adventure character in comic books. This would be just one of her claims to fame.

...it was Sheena, Queen of the Jungle, who released the most issues. Appearing in two of the top five most prolific comics (Jumbo Comics as well as her own title) Sheena was also Queen of the Comics. (...) The publisher of Sheena, Fiction House, was a fascinating company. Because of a shortage of male creatives caused by World War II, Fiction House hired women for all creative roles. Artist Murphy Anderson (Superman, Hawkman), who worked for Fiction House as a teenager, remembered that only a few men were present in the office. Notable artists in the company’s bullpen include Lily Renée, who had escaped from Nazi-occupied Austria, and Marcia Snyder, a queer artist who lived with her girlfriend in Greenwich Village. Perhaps hiring so many women explains why Fiction House produced an abundance of female-centric stories.

Isabella’s legacy was visible everywhere in Panama, once the hub of Spain’s colonnial empire, where tons of gold and silver were transported to Europe so that the queen’s descendants could expand their power and dominion in the Old World. There were dozens of sites, mostly crumbling, abandoned ruins, covered in jungle vines, where the Spaniards had lived and worked when they ruled the planet. The derelict Castilla de San Lorenzo and the tumbled-down walls of Panama Viejo were evidence that even awesome political power can be fleeting. This made a vivid impression on me, a child of American empire overseas, then at the apex of its strength, both admired and resented around the world.

There were crooked photos on the wall of Della Lee as a child, with dark hair and eyes. Josey wondered when she started dyeing her hair blond. In one photo she was standing on top of a jungle gym. In another she was diving into the public pool from the high dive. She looked like she was daring the world to hurt her. Della Lee's bedroom at the end of the hall looked like something out of Josey's teenage dreams. Back then Josey had politely asked her mother if she could hang a poster or two, if she could have some colorful curtains or a bedspread with hearts on it. Her mother had responded with disappointment. Why would Josey ask for something else, as if what she had wasn't good enough? The heavy oak bed, the antique desk and the sueded chaise in Josey's room were all Very Nice Things. Josey obviously did not appreciate Very Nice Things. The walls in Della Lee's room were painted purple and there were sheet lavender curtains on the single window. A poster of a white Himalayan cat was taped on one wall, along with some pages torn out of fashion magazines. There was a white mirrored dresser that had makeup tubes and bottles littered across the surface. Some tote bags with names of cosmetic companies, like department store gifts with purchase, were stashed in the corner near the dresser.

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A hero sometimes faces danger," I said. "Like a dragon-slayer or a nurse in a jungle hospital. But don't you think a hero might also be a person who does what no one else wants to do?

may have felt older than my years before, pretending I stood a chance in the urban jungle that was Tanglewood, lifting my chin to the black jaguar that was Damon Scott. Only coming here showed me what a wide world waits outside the city limits. Only here did I learn that not every man wants you as his prey.

It’s like a lion whispering in the jungle.

The 68-page first issue of Calling All Girls contained four comic stories—an 8-pager on Queen Elizabeth (the mother of the current queen); a 9-pager on famed author Osa Johnson, “the famed jungle adventuress,” as the story so quaintly dubbed her; a fictional 7-pager on Judy Wing, Air Hostess No. 1 (aviation themes were huge in the early years of comics, just as they were in all of popular culture); and a fictional 8-pager on the teenage adventures of the Yorktown Younger Set, which “lives in a town like yours. The other half of the first issue contained text stories of a wide variety, with an astonishing amount of reading material for the teen girl’s dime. There was a 4-page story devoted to Connie Martin, a Nancy Drew knockoff; a 4-pager devoted to circus girls; a 3-pager on Gloria Jean herself; a 3-pager by publisher George Hecht on “13 ways girls can help in the national defense”; a 2-pager on manners; a 3-pager by best-selling sports novelist John R. Tunis on women in sports; a 2-pager on grooming; a 4-pager on a fictional female boater; a 2-pager on films; a 2-pager on fashion, with delightful drawings; a page on fashion accessories; and a 2-pager on cooking, by the famed food writer Cecily Brownstone. This issue gave girls an awful lot of reading, some of it inspirational and showing they could be more than “just a girl,” as the boys in Tubby’s clubhouse used to call Little Lulu and her friends a decade later in their Dell Comics adventures. The most intriguing aspect of Calling All Girls is that it approached schoolgirls not as boy-crazy or male-dependent, but as interesting individuals in their own right. The ensuing issues of Calling All Girls expanded on this theme. This was definitely a mini “feminist manifesto” for teens!

Golden Egg Pets · Golden Dragon · Golden Griffin · Golden Unicorn Diamond Egg Pets · Diamond Dragon · Diamond Griffin · Diamond Unicorn Common Pets · Bandicoot (Aussie Egg) · Buffalo (Cracked Egg or Pet Egg) · Cat (Starter Egg, Cracked Egg, or Pet Egg) · Chicken (Farm Egg) · Dog (Starter Egg, Cracked Egg, or Pet Egg) · Otter (Cracked Egg or Pet Egg) · Robin (Christmas Egg) Uncommon Pets · Black Panther (Jungle Egg) · Blue Dog (Blue Egg) · Capybara (Jungle Egg) · Chocolate Labrador (Cracked Egg, Pet Egg, or Royal Egg) · Dingo (Aussie Egg) · Drake (Farm Egg) · Fennec Fox (Cracked Egg, Pet Egg, or Royal Egg) · Meerkat (Safari Egg) · Pink Cat (Pink Egg) · Puma (Cracked Egg, Pet Egg, or Royal Egg) · Silly Duck (Farm Egg) · Snow Cat (Cracked Egg, Pet Egg, or Royal Egg) · Wild Boar (Safari Egg) · Wolf (Christmas Egg) Rare Pets · Australian Kelpie (Aussie Egg) · Beaver (Cracked Egg, Pet Egg, or Royal Egg) · Brown Bear (Jungle Egg) · Bunny (Cracked Egg, Pet Egg, or Royal Egg) · Cow (Farm Egg) · Elephant (Safari Egg) · Elf Shrew (Christmas Event: 23,000 Gingerbread) · Emu (Aussie Egg) · Hyena (Safari Egg) · Pig (Farm Egg) · Polar Bear (Christmas Egg) · Rabbit (Cracked Egg, Pet Egg, or Royal Egg) · Rat (Lunar New Year Event 2020 - Rat Box - 14 in 15 Chance) · Reindeer (Christmas Egg) · Rhino (Jungle Egg) · Snow Puma (Cracked Egg, Pet Egg, or Royal Egg) · Swan (Christmas Egg) Ultra-Rare Pets · Arctic Fox (Christmas Egg) · Bee (Coffee Shop - Honey: 199 Robux - 35 in 40 Chance) · Crocodile (Jungle Egg) · Elf Hedgehog (Christmas Event: eighty,500 Gingerbread) · Flamingo (Safari Egg) · Frog (Aussie Egg) · Horse (Pet Shop: 300 Robux) · Koala (Aussie Egg) · Lion (Safari Egg) · Llama (Farm Egg) · Panda (Lunar New Year Event - Game Pass: 249 Robux) · Penguin (Throw a Golden Goldfish (225 Robux) to a Penguin on the Ice Cream Parlor) · Platypus (Jungle Egg) · Red Panda (Cracked Egg, Pet Egg, or Royal Egg) · Santa Dog (Christmas Event: 250 Robux) · Shiba Inu (Cracked Egg, Pet Egg, or Royal Egg) · Sloth (Pet Shop: 199 Robux) · Turkey (Farm Egg) · Zombie Buffalo (Halloween Event) Legendary Pets · Arctic Reindeer (Christmas Egg) · Bat Dragon (Halloween Event 2019: a hundred and eighty,000 Candies) · Crow (Farm Egg) · Dragon (Cracked Egg, Pet Egg, or Royal Egg) · Evil Unicorn (Halloween Event 2019: 108,000 Candies) · Frost Dragon (Christmas Event 2019: 1,000 Robux) · Giraffe (Safari Egg) · Golden Penguin (Throw a Golden Goldfish (225 Robux) to a Penguin at the Ice Cream Parlor) · Golden Rat (Lunar New Year Event 2020 - Rat Box - 1 in 15 Chance) · Griffin (Gamepass or six hundred Robux) · Kangaroo (Aussie Egg) · King Bee (Coffee Shop - Honey: 199 Robux - 4 in 40 Chance) · Owl (Farm Egg) · Parrot (Jungle Egg) · Queen Bee (Coffee Shop - Honey: 199 Robux - 1 in 40 Chance) · Shadow Dragon (Halloween Event 2019: 1,000 Robux) · Turtle (Aussie Egg) · Unicorn (Cracked Egg, Pet Egg, or Royal Egg)

Our days will pass in singing songs. We will roam the jungles and I will teach you the language of all animals. You will fear them no more and will pick flowers instead after you have tired of gazing at the beauty that would surround us. During the day I will turn the wheel and make pots and you will string flowers together and make garlands for gods and men. We will sell them at the temple in the evening and by nights you will cradle in my arms and listen to a new story every night before shutting your eyes to the long beautiful day. And when all my stories are exhausted we will together make new ones. This is the way queens must live