Walt: 'You know, Edna... I think this linoleum kitchen floor may need a bit of repair and freshening up...It must be over 60 years since we layed it down with our own four hands..!'
Edna's inadvertently evil ('Stare into my eyes... You must stare into my eyes...', it hypnotically whispers to all kitchen visitors) giant-watch-like clock, purchased at a Haloween Fair, on the far wall as you enter the kitchen unfortunately tends to be the visual focal point of the room....as visitors nervously want to 'keep an eye on the daxned thing!'
'Son, there's something wrong or missing concerning your head. You need to have a doctor look at you, really!'
'You senile old loser... You mean you haven't seen the wave of the future yet in head design?'
And of course, one shady aspect of the Browns, supposedly the near-perfect archetypes of the wholesome people who have characterized Skunkville over the years, is the decades-long presence (imprisonment?) of elderly but spry Uncle Leonard in the Brown's dark, depressing back hallway...
'Uncle Leonard.... Is it true that you have been held hostage here since 19 and 17?'
Uncle Leonard puts down yesterday's edition of the highly popular Skunkville Corn Holler and Corn Hxler, which Walt & Edna generously let him borrow before it is put beneath sloppy-eating Fiddles' dog bowl in the kitchen the townspeople's favorite newsrag.
'Huh?' he replies evasively. 'My hearing ain't so hot any more, sonny.... And, I'm never much been one for conversationing anywho. So why don't you be a good boy and go back and study the famous owners of this home.... No one's interested in me. Time has proven that. There is something incredibly boring and forgettable about me...'
Huh? What am I doing out in this back hallway for.... Not my blackouts again! Those really make it hard on a narrator.... I've only had a couple of pints of my favorite dirt cheap Tombstone Gin today.... that's pretty good for me.... Maybe not for someone else. I mean, its the boredom of the narrating business... I probably should have kept my Humps, rather than pick up the Tombstone, like this old loser is suggesting!