If you are capable of absorbing pictorial data with appended verbal information, as a kind of Skunkville Saga comic book story, please read the pictorial sidebar, with its helpful captions, to bring yourself up to speed re an older, outdated but perhaps historically interesting version of today's story, which has since been revised extensively but not totally. 

If you are not capable of doing whatever I said above, we are not going to review that pictorial sidebar material tediously in the text, since

a) some have seen the pictures and blurbs as repetitious and boring within a blog that is already exceedingly repetitious and boring to begin with  

b)  it has been repeatedly insinuated by readers that the sidebar pictorial story neverevereven comes close to matching the actual text story... 'The story doesn't deliver what the picture promised' is a common complaint AS WELL AS 'the pictures don't deliver what the prose (or perhaps the pros')  promised'...

c)  and the most serious comment:  'The pictures really told the story, and the story really verbalized the pictures AND THE WHOLE THING TOTALLY SXCKED THE BIG SALAMI!!  

If you want a little more on this angle, you'll have to wait, because I have to go barf again... If only I could remove these words and pictures from my mind forever!!!  Why did I ever, ever, ever come and start building this monstrosity??  I'll never fogive, never FO-GIVE myself for coming, probably at the wrong time too...and what an awful place to come!  Do you have a paper towel or a handky or something???  The keyboard is a mess... I'll never forgive myself....  Wait, I have to go barf some more.  I'm just going to throw this slimy PC out the window into that dumpster below our bus here in Toledo, Spain.'  

Others, more moderate in their commentary and the terrortory they covered, said:  'The block prose story is just a boring regurgitation of the much quicker-to-read pictorial side bar, or 'comic book version'   Also, 'the story left me and the elderly shut-in to whom I was reading it not sure what to believe... what was true.... what really happened...and the shut-in  wouldn't shut up, wouldn't quiet down, making me re-read both versions over and over and over again until the cock croaked...And why would the cock croak anyhow?  I doubt if they could understand most of the stupid, offensive, insulting dialog and pointless rip-off pictures.'

Yes, yes, yes, okay... I think people are taking this frivolous fictional blockburner a lttle too seriously and not understanding that it, like our own reality, where we live and work and shop and try to get some, is a pretty confusing, distracting, wobbly place TOO.... Where we can rarely keep a solid train of thought going for more than a few seconds -- or minutes if we're lucky > we're OCD..... Where much if not all of everything is fun-dementedly inexplicable or contradicktory or obscene, despite our desire to remain clean and uncorrupted and also to wallow up to our necks in filth and even eat the filth with our dirty bare hands, so long as it tastes good and filthy and is hypoallergenic. 

But it is only of late that my lovely travel partner/escapee and myself have realized that somehow, due to our frantic behavior as we anxiously escaped from Skunkville, we have gotten on a bus to Toledo, Spain, rather than Toledo Ohio.  This became clear when the bus was completely smashed up in its rear end -- deliberately hit by a renegade Spanish garbage truck, the soldiers hidden in which wanted to board our mount and take it for theirs... Forcing me right now to be pressed hard against my female travelling partner, as a battle rages in the front of the bus...the woman one whom I hardly know....And not at all in the Biblical sense...But of course with whom I have already fallen deeply, hopelessly in love, as always...During our joint and coincidentally coinciding attempt to escape by passenger bus from Skunkville, O.

Yes, it was true that maybe ten minutes ago, Skunkville time, I was romancing Walt Brown's lovely but ancient but amorous wife... And that was why I was chased out by Mr. Brown hisselfage, who even fired at me his one-shot, slow-loading musket from when he fought in the Crimean War... But fortunately it only winged the driver of the bus that we (me and the purty perky goyl) were on-boarding... The large, heavy cueball-sized rusty jagged metal 'bullet' or 'mini-cannonball' winging the driver's left bxll, leaving a tear in the pants of his Central Ohio & Northern Spain Bus Company uni.

Yep.  This just happened as I boarded the bus, while I was handling the driver my fare.

At first I didn't realize what happened, the driver rolling up in a ball himself, and rolling around on the dirty floor of the smoking-tolerated bus, rolling up on top of my sneakers, then under the big steering wheel of fortune, and over the petals...of the flowery control features -- brake, accel, clutch, cargo, shift, drift, mift, lift, ....

'Sire,' I miscalled him, 'Are ye alright, o driverage man?  It appears ye may have been struck by this ugly thing,' I said grabbing the large bloodied metal ball or bullet that had just rolled back our way, and shoving it in front of his tearing eyes so he could see what had assaulted him, bringing him at least partway back to realite'...

'Well, sonny,' he said to me... 'You done see....It's just that I lost another member of my scrotery putting on a fireworkers display for my granny and granpappy....  They were so far gone that when the accident occurred, they couldn't stop laughing at the lonely detached unshelled nut sitting on the grass.!'

I began gently, motherly stroking of the suffering, injured man -- on his head of course -- the head above his soldiers...I mean above his shoulders... It makes me shudders to think about it now.

I offered without thinking much:  'Hey, do you want me to drive to Toileto for ya?' slightly botching up the destination in my confusion....

Suddenly he rolls his face back to stare in my eyes, as I hoverover him, issuing as much support and caring and upbeat ambience to him as I can with my touch and my eyes and my body english/spanish... While the rest of the passengers seem to be in shock, or laughing hyenically, like hebephenic schizophrenics... people who laugh 24/7...even while sleeping.  It is said that it is hard for them lead normal lives.

'Did you just see someone throw a cannister of laughing gas into the bus as well?' I wonder to my new injured friend.  But when I turn again, no one is laughing...everyone looks funereal and is silent, immobile, staring at me.   I notice that the bus is much quieter now... Yes. it indeed seems as if they are all staring at me, licking their chops, hungrily.

TO BE COTINUED IN OUR NEXT THRILLING EPISODE WHERE WE'LL HEAR ME YELL:

'SANDUSKY....  ALL OUT FOR SANDUSKY OHIO. DON'T FORGET TO TAKE WITH YOU ALL YOUR CARRY-ON ITEMS, LIKE YOUR WIFE OR MATRESS!'

YES, YOU'LL HEAR THAT AND EVEN MORE IN THE NEXT EXCITING EPISODE #1,004 OF THE UNFORGETTABLE.....WHAT'S THE NAME OF THIS THING? 

Yes, so don't forget to tune in for the next thriIiing episode of THE SAGE OF SKUNKVILLA

Oh, yeah.... And I just realized Big Blonde Beautiful Linda just got on the bus, the very latest copy of the thrice-daily newspaper of record of Skunkville, the Skunkville Corn Hxler and Corn Holler Mid-Afternoon Edition under her arm....  Hot diggity doggie!  But what's my other girl going to say?

The Spanish chiquita awakens from the accident just as I think those words: (The Spanish chiquita awakens from the accident).  And the first thing she sez to me is:  'Hey, back off Jack... Gimme some personal space and don't ever let your boddy ever come near touchin' my boddy again!