Skunkville Saga Rumination

Unusual adventures & awkward situations & miscommunications seem to plague and/or delight an elderly couple who seem to know how to roll with the punches

The later lives of iconic residents in a nondescript American town. This blog novel currently has 2 MILLION words served up as 2,000 nail-biting quick-reading hard-laffing episodes, its 2,000,000 words more than ANY OTHER easily-obtainable novel. KIRKUS REVIEWS (see review on Kirkus site) compares SKUNKVILLE to the works of literary geniuses James Joyce, Thomas Pynchon, and John Barth. SKV Has attracted ~110,000 reader visits to date just on Delphi, plus an equally large number of additional readers on a diversity of other sites now no longer relied on by Skunkville.
7/1/14

GRAVE VISIT, GRAVE FINISH more updates!

Gravedigger Graves as he stood on the front door that that day -- the day that Edna complained that their 26 year old daschhund was starting to disappear little by little...
Walt: 'Hmmmm.... You say you're the town gravedigger.... I think that means you drive your Grave Digger Monster Truck every Saturday frrom April to September at Skunkville Super Speedway! May I have your AUTO graph??!' Grave Digger: 'Sorry son, the Grave Digger's made for speed, nothing else... He can't even spell, as far as I knowet.'
A perch
Edna: 'We have a bit of an emergency here.' Walt, turned away from the door with Graves now out of his sight (and mind) finishes by saying: 'I am dying for that great perch dinner dish that you prepare... I'm gonna run right down to smelly ~Fish~Mart~ right now and buy a big, juicy perch!'
Walt runs to get his latest copies of Fate Magazine to see what their chances are given all the ungodly trouble they've gotten into!!
Walt: 'Edna... There's a story in this issue which seems similar to what we've just experienced!'
 
 
 
Walt: 'Yes...He did fall awkwardly,,,But I've given the Gravedigger something to read, and he seems to becoming more comfortable!'
The ever-so-lovely Theda Bara

 

Briefly recapping yesterday's episode before we move into new, unknown territory.... 

Gravedigger Graves, gravely leaning on his rusty grave shovel, commenting on what he perceived as our friend ,Walt Brown's, bungling, circuitous style of talking:  'Oh shutup, Brown, you driveling old townfool.  I just happened to be out your way, taking my old shovel, 'Six Feet Wunder' out for a walk, just to give her some exercise and TLC, some quality time, so she doesn't get rusty or fusty... 

'Anyhow, I realized I was walking in circles and had a queasy feeling when I passed yer house... My upset, nervous stomach seemed to be telling me a) that I had walked in too many circles, or b) that you might need -- or that Edner in perticuler might soon be 'digging' ( Brown, that's a hip new word for being really interested in, or excited by something) -- like Edna suddenly 'digging' my experienced excavationary services, par exemple..' .Graves says, at least somewhat gravely, hands on hips, the long shovel now invisible to Walt, as Graves has it positioned so he is casually leaning against it....probably a common practice among the older or lazier grave diggers.  

Then, after Graves is finished watching a flock of those noisy renegade hairpieces that have been troubling Skunkville fly gracefully over them, with a only a few negligible slimy hairballs striking near them,  Graves continues, somewhat more gravely: 

'Like, dig it Brown, old boy, you might be digging needing to plant some new flowers, or digging excavating a new swimming pool, or digging burying some treasure or valuables designated in your hot-wax-sealed will -- or even digging burying the corpse of some past enemy whom you've 'taken care of' oncet and for all' in a way that 'no one will ever find the slightest trace of him' --  , or a guy who was digging burying YOU Brown, stiff as a bored skeleton with that stupid smile on your skull...And please, clarify to Edna that I'm 'le jit' (as they say in gay Paree'),  not the famous Gravedigger who also races the Gravedigger vehicle every Saturday night at Skunkville Raceway!  And that I'm NOT that rip-off Gravedicker -- the sound-a-like who does a lousy job after he allows the bereaved to cut his prices to the bone...a corner of his coffin or even sometimes the bony corpses themselves resurfacing in a matter of years or decades after he does his sloppy work and cheap, shallow (six inches under) burials, with sometimes the dearly departed's lonely nose or the lonely top of his or her hairy pot belly still sticking up out of the ground because he was too cheap or lazy to 'box 'im up' -- or because he's obsessed with getting back to his prime interest, driving his Grave Dicker race car!! 

'Or, thinking again of your your hot-wax-sealed will, your wife might want a hot wax job on her legs so she looks hot at the funeral, her first moments of being available after scads of dull decades with you...You know what I mean, Brown...??

'So when I was stopped by my sixth or possibly even my seventh sense telling me I needed to rap and rap hard, even relentlessly, on your shabby door (you're also in great need of door renovations, another feature of my more broad-based Grave Digger Home Improvements Corporation)....

'So, while my infallable telepathic senses weren't telling exactly WHAT you wanted... But your NEED for it WUZZZZzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz...

...zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz...!!'

Apparently tired from his long spiel, as well as -- before this bitter lemon harangue verbal pie -- walking all around and over town and surrounding environs to exercise his old shovel, 'Six Feet Wunder', Gravedigger Graves dozes off at the end of his shpiel, sound asleep, his trusty old shovel keeping a close watch on him and not allowing him to fall. 

Walt, unnecessarily panicking about the remote possibility of Gravedigger Graves falling over as he sleeps, since his only support currently is his leaning against his shovel, 'Six Feet Wunder', he turns to ask Edna for some help in bringing the exhausted gravedigger inside.  But, seeing Edna isn't right there, and not sure whether she had been with him while he chew the graveside fat with Graves, Walt doesn't want to call for her, thereby startling  Graves and perhaps causing him to fall from his precarious perch.

**************************

It isn't until Walt daintily wipes the grease off his mouth area, including the end of his nose, of course his slimy chin, and even one of his cheeks (Edna commenting: 'But how could the perch grease gotten in yer underwear???') after consuming a giant perch dinner, expertly prepared by Edna..... that he thinks and actually says as he thinks, lost in his world of contentment and perfect satiation '...MMMMmmmm!!!.....What a great, uplifting ('I feel like I'm now high on a perch, unapproachable by any problems, like the ones I was troubled by before my perch!') way to end my day, with that perch mellowly being divested in my stomach and lower organs...The taste still strong in my mouth, nearly as strong as it was at the climax of the meal, when I chewed and swallowed the very biggest and last forkful of perch I had.... the coupe de grace....the pinnacle, the barnacle of your beautifully fashioned fishy meal...the knockout pernch!!'

Edna, annoyed at how he seems more in love with and on Cloud Nine with the dumb perch dinner, than with her as a living person with many aspects other than cooking tasty fish.....walks towards the front door for a breath of fresh air, away from the fish smell and Walt's overwhleming perch breath....And as she steps out on their front perch, she is amazed to see Gravedigger Graves still gravely standing there, still leaning with his back against his shovel, and still sound asleep!!

*************

But when the Gravedigger awakens, after Edna has lightly splashed him with some ice water, worried about his circulation were he to stand in one position for too long....

He cries an agonizing, disoriented'Awwarrrrrgghhhkkkkkhhhuhhhh!!!', then makes a powerful mystical gravedigger hex sign at Edna and the Brown's house as well...before repeating:  'Awwarrrrrgghhhkkkkkhhhuhhhhhhhnnnnnngggggg!!!'

And keeling over his shovel, Mr. Graves himself staggers and then, like a drunken seagrave shoveler tumbles backwards through the Brown's front door -- landing hard on the Browns' threadbare carpet, a scary cracking sound occurring when Graves' head hardly hits the floor............. 

Walt:  'I don't get it...his head hardly hit the floor, Edna??  How did he manage that??'

Edna, about ready to choke her life companion:  'Of course he's going to hit hard-ly, Walt...He's a tall, strong man and he fell straight backword onto a rock-hard floor that's not cushioned at all by those 100+ year old carpets that were like threada bare-a when we bought them!!'

Edna, her hanky over her mouth and nose in distress over the fall and the crack! on top the overwhelming and nauseating fish smell that Walt, perched on the ground by the old gravedigger,  is now exuding:

Edna:  'I think that crack! was his neck, Walt....Look how odd the angle of the dangle his neck is.....He's actually lying on his back, but with his shoulders resting back peacefully, even comfortably on top of his own head, which is twisted upside down and now is underneath his shoulders -- and those beady open unblinking eyes with a look of insane, piercing  anger -- of heated, certain promise of grave vengeance... Walt, I'm afraid he's fit to be tied about this whole incident!'

Walt, wincing and gagging a little as he looks at the uncomfortable if not fatally unnatural position of the gravedigger's head and neck:  'Well, Edna.... While we hurry and call 9-1-1, let's think of the bright side:  Mebbe he's a contortionist!... In fact, I think I read somewhere that gravediggers for some strange reason also tend to be contortionists, giving free, humor-oriented contortionism shows in the wake of the grave ceremony -- You know: to cheer every one up in the house, or the graveyard (get it, Edna: grave yard: a place where people are grave...) so they don't brood or mope all day about  poor xxxxx P. xxxxxxx Jr.... And isn't it awful that he's dead, and how in hell's bells can I help the remainders out without exerting myself too much or cioughing up much more $dough than we already clanked into the collection platter.????.....'

The gravely injured Mr. Graves mutters sarcastically:  'Contor......tionist.... but.......sorry.......not.... in my... case...Brown....you bun....gling......murd....er....er....whom I will haunt...down....and bring to Just....ice!  Those..... who cause.......... a gravedigger to......... pass on.............. tend to pass on themsefs......within se.........ven day.....sel.......v.....e.....n....day .....s!  Urghk.'

Edna:  'Yes....He's right!  I just read that myself in the latest issue of Fate Magazine!!'

Walt, pulling out of his hands.  'Okay, well let's see:  Today is the 3rd of July....OMG!!....  The county 4th of July fireworks display is in our own downward sloping back lawn, Edna!!  The peeple sits at the top, the fireworkers run back and forth at the bottom of our hill...nears the toxic dump...'

'Yes, Walt, and remember the year when they accidentally ignited the Fireworks Display volatile and nuclear substances in the toxic dump???'

'Yes.  The headlines read:  'WHO EVER THOUGHT WORLD WAR 3 WOULD BEGIN IN THE SKUNKVILLE DUMP??'

Walt, shaking his head good-naturedly at the remembrance:  'Yes...That was quite a Night....'

The feeble voice of Gravedigger Graves from where he lies near their rather sweaty smelling 'dogs' croaks hoarsely:  Have you completely fergotten about me....The man you badly injured...:Rather than getting any help from you... It was I who had to grab my own head and jerk it out from under my shoulders where it was trapped, breathless, and my twisted neck screaming in pain... '

Walt:  'Honestly, did you hear his back screaming in pain??  heh heh heh?'

Edna, rushing to the side of Gravedigger Graves to comfort him,

   

 
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