A mind trip unlike any other. The wild adventures of a humble, easy-going couple in a small, nondescript American town, including those of a diverse, ever-changing, weird cast of friends & acquaintances, young and old. This amiably outlandish, often irreverent, R-rated tale IS NOW APPROACHING THE 1,100 episode MILESTONE, each of the 1,100+ mini-epics each enjoyable on a stand-alone basis. Just in its five years of existence, at this hard-to-find, off-the-beaten-path site and a few no-longer-existant Skunkville threads on a few message boards  , the Saga has received hundreds of thousands of reader visits. Kirkus Reviews says of Skunkville Saga, 'A relentless, bizarre phantasmagoria', 'Few reading experiences match this one', 'Totally unpredictable', 'otherworldly', 'madcap', 'flippant', 'continue(s), endlessly, down a rabbit hole of absurdity....' 'will appeal to.... most adventurous readers' These are hard times for books/novels, yet Skunkville, by redefining and re-engineering the novel from scratch, flourishes on its own tireless, restless, bizarre, inquisitive energy despite lack of any publisher or other backing/funding! judged most similar to Skunkville according to Kirkus critics....both among the greatest novels of all time!
Walt, as he guides Cult 45 over to Edna's stone bed: 'Now, note that -- like everything else herein -- Edna's bedna is made of solid 100% authentic hard rock.
Cult 45, dazzled: 'Yeah, Big Daddy... You mean hard rock just like at the Hard Rock Cafe Teria!'
Walt steps in front of Cult 45, who now has Edna adoringly in his strong arms, a few steps from her volcanic rock bed.
Walt, a bit officiously: 'Hand her to me, Cult, please, dear young pal... She's something very precious to me, and if her head were hurt, she might forget who she is and leave me like 99.9% of sensible women would!!'
After Cult passes her gently into Walt's arms, the old geezer ever so gently lowers her centimeter by millimeter down towards the surface of her bed, whispering: 'Cult, would you mind puffing up her pillow before I lay her head down??'
Cult moves towards the bed but seems confused: 'But Walt, her pillow is made of rock-hard rock as well... I might break my hand doing what you say, and no longer be able to whizzz my 45's with impeckable accuracy at do-badders and questionable-looking 'customers'!'
Walt, his back holding up surprisingly well as he manfully, genteelly lowers her onto her queen size rock... 'OMG! I've really gotta put her on a diet for her own good...as well as mine!'
Cult, shaking his head: 'That's where I think you're way wrong, Walt... She looks as pretty as ever... maybe moreso from her tan and from sleeping on that inpenetrable bed -- it seems to have straightened her out -- and yer posture too -- so I can see she's really as tall as you were before you got stritched!'
Walt: 'Yep. You're right there son.... The staff down here recommends a large bowl of rock pebbles every day to help with your regularity and motelity... as well as to give us the 'rocks' to face all the healthy daily misery -- the climbing up and down the of 1,000' high rock face to reach the little kiosk where we can get a copy of Teotihuacan Titterer newsrag... It's got a great gossip section.... Even covers sleazy things going right here in out own Elder Hostel in the Thursday edition of The Titterer!'
Walt responding to the picture of Harry shown above: 'Oh: him! Sure I remember that wiseacre... But he was not our child of joint procreation, or the result of our bedly recreation... He was an adoptee pushed on us by the Man Made Reform School... 'We can make a man from anyone' was their motto...but they gave up on him!
You know, Edna, I always windered if that 'We can make a man from anyone' promise included women, par exemple....or, taking it probably too far, say making a man out of a gorilla?'
Edna, looking at Walt, surprised: 'But you forget, Mr. Muddled Mind, that probably the finest, kindest, most intelligent mayor Skunkville ever had was a reformed fierce gorilla... Don't you remember the great Mayor Sweetassel...??!! How would this town ever have made it through the Great Depression and World War 2 without the leadership of reformed gorila Mayor Sweetassel, probably the best, most honest, most sensitive, and most down-to-earth mayor we ever have had... Not a crook or a lazy empty promiser like most of the rest!
Walt, shaking his head: 'Yeah, you say that... But he had such a hard time talking through those false teeth of his, that were engineered so that he would be able to make human-like, understandable words!'
Edna: 'Yes... And he became so good at it, that he was given the honor of reading the Gettysburger Address at a Presidential Cookout in Washington D.C. one year, where the Prez promised to feed everyone in town a juicy burger made by him!!... The Washington Post even commented regarding Mayor Sweettassel's reading: A far better, more persuasive and nuanced and genuinely impassioned reading of the Address than ever provided by any of our current human leaders!!'
Walt scratching his head, as Edna hurries over with an open plastic bag to catch as much of the dandruff as possible so that their breathing and health isn't affected by malignant second hand dandruff!
Walt seeing what she is doing, immediately stops scratching: 'Okay.. okay, dear. I'm stopping... I know your and the Surgeon General's concern about 2nd hand dandruff.. But saying that it's right up there in danger with second hand cigar smoke....or heavy industry smokestack polution... I feel he's gone a little too far, that's all!'
Edna, shaking her head at Walt's 'attitude': 'Yes, but in this confined Elder Space, with recooperating Ejemplo, and our poor old breathing-impaired 20+ year old loving, pain-in-the-you-know-what daschhund Fiddles...We all have to be especially careful!! It's what simian Mayor Sweetassel and all of our Skunkville betters....simian, human, or autre.. who have passed on would want!'
Walt: 'But are you saying that anyone who's passed on is our better?? What about Machine Gun Gerney, who shot up every woman's flowerbed in one extremely noisy, sleepless night in 19 and 37??'
Edna: 'Well... Has she or he passed on?'
Walt, looking upward, hand on chin, trying to come up with a plausible answer...even the true answer -- if it supports his POV...more or less. 'No, I have to admit I saw her -- or him, I was never really sure -- in town shopping for groceries the day that we left on the endless, terrible journey that brought us here...'
Edna, looking upward, hand on chin, trying to come up with a plausible response that would still make her look a lot better than Walt...in the eyes and ears of handsome young Mexican boy Ejemplo, who of course did not understand most of what they were saying...or in the eyes and ears and nose of Fiddles, who was perhaps everyones' toughest critic... Relentless in his skepticism and his questioning of motives and possible selfish payoffs for any POV.
Walt continues: 'But she did contribute the proceeds from her sale of all her machine guns and rifles and pistols and other weapons of small-scale destruction and retribution to the incredibly corrupt Skunkville Mayor and his Police Force... An understandable faux pas, but still one that may have led to better-funded, more troublesome trouble around town rather than less...'
Edna, smacking her fist down on their unlevel stone table, one of the main pieces of furniture in their Elder Cave, along with their genuine stone beds, as well as their terribly slanting stone table and hxllish stone adjustable 'lounge chairs'.
'OH SUGAR!! I shouldn't have done that, Walt dear... I believe I may have broken my fist!!'
Walt, quickly suppressing a quick flash of relief that appeared like a ghost on his face and then was gone practically before it arrived, gently puts one arm around Edna, and then slowly...slowly...ever so slowly raises her fist towards his eyes to inspect it,,,'
Edna: 'You numbskull... That's the wrong fist... I oughta smack you fer.... Ooooh.... Never mind. Here...' Edna nods at her left fist at the end of her limp, painful left arm, resting against her well-padded thigh...
As we return to our friends the Browns for today's episode, we note that their cave-unit, for some reason designated 23G, 1,000 feet above the rocky rubble of the rundown pyramid that serves as the American Elder Hostel, has now four perhaps permanento occupants: Walt Brown, bungling old geezer originally from Skunkville N.J., Edna Brown, attractive elderly wife of the haggard, ugly Walt, supposedly a veteran of the Crimean War, from which the great show tune, 'Crimean River', was one result.... Walt having purportedly lost his left nipple during a charge of his light brigade through an open field, where he was nicked in the chest and thus denippled by a Russian sharpshooter.... other 23G occupants being in alpahbetical order, Fiddles, the Browns' elderly daschund, who followed his 'parents' all the way from Skunkville Ohio to the Elder Hostel in a once-mighty, but half collapsed Anca or Iztec pyramid, which we are not sure.... And their newest best friend whom they just met Ejemplo, the Western Union bicycle delivery boy for this 20 mile by 20 mile zone of Mexico/USA....
After Walt checks out Ejemplo one more time, taking his pulse, checking his breathing using a small mirror from Edna's purse, and testing his reflexes with a small knee hammer..
The kid murmurs after the foot tap: 'Hey, you old bxstxrd...I'm trying to rest... You know it's twenty miles as the crow circles, from the beginning of the ledge to the 234th 'floor', where yer shxtbxll cave is??'
Edna, hurrying to Walt's side and then leaning and kissing the grimy, hard-working boy, who gags at the touch of her lips... Edna then hugging Walt in celebration of Ejemplo's ejemplary survival: 'Oh Walt.... He's so cute... Let's adopt him... and take him home to Skunkville as our beloved long lost son... We'll call him Harry, just like our long lost son!'
Walt, scratching his head: 'Harry? Long lost son? I thought the doctors said you were barren....That we need not worry about burf controls even?'
Edna, glowing: 'Yes, but in my dream, it was told to me that the real truth is that we are both Mejican and that we have a little boy who for some raison debtra has aged very slowly, like we have... I mean, how many friends do we have who are still alive and were born like us in 1814... or was it 1914??'
Walt: 'By friends do you mean live ones or dead ones or ones somewhere in between?? And, to my recollection, we've never had any friends anyway, except for Fiddles and Central Ohio Indian Chief Weenipoopoo, who has recently changed his name to Chief Soaring Gull since there were so many jokes about his authentic name...'
Walt, hanging around like many of the Elder Guests at the opening of he and Edna's and Fiddles' Elder Cave a thousand feet above the rocky detritus below, suddenly comments... 'OMG! There's an exhausted Telegraph Delivery Boy trying to ride his beat-up bike up the ledge coming up towards our unit.... But he's exhausted.... he looks delirious....His bike is wobbling and wandering back and forth....some times just inches, maybe just centipedelers from the edge.....I've gotta run down the ledge and grab him off that bike before it's too late!!'
Edna: 'WHAAAAAAT???? Come back here R I G H T N O W D E A R, you foolish hero without a chance!! Besides, knowing you, you're more likely to knock the poor kid over the precipuss than save him!'
And then the blur going past Edna and out down the ledge path is noneother than Walt's elderly daschund Fiddles, racing to stop Walt before his owner expires with no issues left!?!@
Handsome French-Spanish sightseer on ground, shaking his mane... 'Oy.... C'est une autre exemple pouvre la hospitalite' d' Mexicano....'
When Walt has carried the lightweight young fellow inside, he is only semiconscious -- semi-delirious from the long, ever circular, wobbling, terrifyingly dangerous 2-wheeler ride up the ledgendary Elder Mountain Ledge of Death.
Walt, quietly to the boy once they have he resting peacefully on soft blankets in their cave 23G: 'What is yer name, per ejemplo Calixto? Candido? Cezar? Conrado?'
Edna, pushing Walt away from the suffering Mexican boy, who then murmurs weakly: Ej em plo
Edna, horning in, pushing Walt back out of the way: 'While you've been worrying about that ledge day and night, I've used my time more fruitfully, learning the Mexican language. 'Ejemplo means example... He's asking for more examples of names so he can tell us which one is his...'
Walt, shaking his head, 'No, I think his name IS Ejemplo!!'
Ejemplo turns his head weakly towards Walt and offers him a wan smile....
Walt: 'See that, Edna.... Ejemplo just nodded in agreement with my theory!!'
Edna, looking over at Ejemplo, who is now fallen sound asleep again, and snoring in Spanish...'Sure Walt.... You've got some imagination, don't you?? Who would name their kid Example in the U.S.? If they did, they might be sent to jail!!'
Walt: 'But what about freedom of speech.... Look, if I want to rename myself Dogshxthead, America the Land of the Free will fully back my right to do that!!'
Edna: 'And what a perfect name 'twould be for you, too.... Just perfect!!'
Ejemplo mumbles softly using the little English he knows: 'Thank mucho.... dear Walt....'
As all of the members of our last ensemble scene are still in a state of shock after Walt tried to help out the great reincarnationed young Incan ruler, Irakar Iraform, who now exclaims, seeing Walt quickly dwindling in size as he plummets away from them: 'Intip Churl! Kinsua Intikuna Machu Waltu Picchu Good As Deadhiporuru!!'
Carter, a huge beast of burden, whom upon his back tenants may safely ride up and down the treacherous trail from the ground to the Elder Cave Units, most of them hundreds if not thousands of feet above the ground....And you need a Carter down below where the ground surface at the base of Elder Mountain is sun-baked, boulder-strewn and hazardous.... With these itinerant monsterous dinahshore-like sweet-singing, carnivorous throwbacks constantly milling around outside the lofty Elder Mountain Retirement Catacombs looking for some 'action', mainly of the devouring sort.
Low to the ground prehistoric giant retpile-like Carter, shaking his head about Walt's 1,000' fall caused by the Huge, armored Incan War God or War God Impersonator: 'Gee..... He seemed to me like such a swell, down-to-earth guy...!'
While Edna and Fiddles and the other stoppers-by drawn by the 'accident' try to hold it in, a few can't help but burst out in laughter at Carter's inadvertent verbal faux pas. Carter: 'You know... I don't get you Elder Residents -- or the ancient Aztecs and Incans and Mayans and Piltdown Men and so on that hang out around this dangerous, inhumane resort.... It tears my hearts out -- I have three hearts like most prehistoric carter megalizardsours, and have already torn out two of them in my dejection -- from things like this happening far more often than I would want, one of my hearts them has a knock, worse than than in an old jalopy, and another has a ring around the engine collar.... and the third is nearly broken from all of the heartaches of living here. And my resolve to find a way to get to the World Elder Living Conscience Committee in Stockholm Sweden is strong and true... Yet I am afraid to waddle off on that long, hazardous travail knowing that the remaining functionaries who actually give a hoot or a toot about these Elders is, as they would say in Set Theory, nearly an Empty Set.... When we need a full set of executives, preferably of the more caring female persuasion with large, full, soft, perky-looking, Set of caring breasts.... A Set that can be squeezed into affirmative action in favor of our endangered residents at any time!!
Just at this moment, an apparently uninjured Walt comes around the five foot wide, uneven path that circles the stark mountain development and reaches an altitude of thousands of feet above the low-lying boulder-strewn plain where the entrance to Elder Mountain Mini-Estates is.
Walt: 'Look, Carter... You need to break up this meeting right away!! There's ten times too many people here to fit in Fiddles', Edna's, and my little unit to have a discussion, and when I was walking up the trail, I saw at least ten oldsters plummetting towards the ground, probably forced off the edge of the ledge here into the abyss by the simple effect of crowd size. I know that you're a very decent guy, but you love to pontificate -- whoops --- there goes another suddent departure over the edge! ....at least he still had his cane in his hand, for whatever good that may do him on the way down....LOOK!!! BY THE AUTHORITY OF THE SKUNKVILLE SAGA AND ITS VERIFIED 1.5 MILLION WORDS OF NONSENSE, I INSIST THAT EVERYONE S-L-O-W-L-Y DISPERSE FROM THIS IMPROMPTO and INPROPERTOO SITE RIGHT NOW>>>> IMMEDIATELY BEGIN DISPERSING -- THIS IS URGENT!! -- GOING AS S-L-O-W-L-Y AS YOU CAN....AND REMEMBER, WHEN THERE'S A JAM-UP THAT IS LEADING TO A SUREFIRE 'PERSON OVERBROAD!!' IT'S ALWAYS LADIES FIRST!!
Several hands are immeditely raised: Walt nods at one elder person at random, who then asks him: 'Do you mean Ladies first in terms of letting them by safely, OR Ladies First in terms of the ones who should be accidentally forced over the edge first, e.g., to eliminate the crowding and lines at the facility??'
Fans, we'll pick up the action verbally as opposed to pictorially here in the bottom of the 4th inning, right after the events described in the accompanying pictures have all occurred....
Incan godlike figure, hanging on to the cave edge by his strong metallic beautifully designed finger claws...'Carter... you hopeless buffoon... You almost knocked me clear off the edge.. and the catchment ledges may not be strong enough to hold my huge powerful life-throbbing body!!'
Walt, always a quick responder, hurrying out to give the Incan 'god' a hand...although, he is thinking: 'If he's really a god, what would he need a hand for??'
'Hurry, man...' the great Incan warrior begs: 'I have a phobiall about heights!!'
Walt, leaning over, clutching the giant's incredibly huge, strong right hand, whiie the Incan's left hand grip allows to not fall for now...
(Walt thinking: 'You know,,, There's something fishy here, besides Edna's... nevermind...Anywhere, there's something fishy here...This being is so powerful: yet he is begging for my help in a situation where he should be easily able to 'save' himself ...Oh well...But I am a member of the Good Fellow Society, so I have to risk doing this perhaps unwise good deed or lose my GFS membership card, and the 2 cent a gallon discount it provides on Marathon Unleaded Gasoline and CrxpMart 'Watch Yourself' One-Ply Stylish UltraThin Toilet Paper...
Walt, lowering his torso over the ledge: 'Okay, huge fellow.... Just grab hard onto my right hand, and then I'll slowly inch backward if my strength holds up...thereby raising you closer and closer to the ledge... But, looking down at you, you look so mighty, I can't understand....'
The mighty one's hand connects and wraps around Walt's shaking paw....And in a second, the Incan icon has used this leverage to flip himself, beaming, 'on deck', up with the others outside Edna & Walt's 'front door'....while Walt is plummeting at the speed of unencumbered plummet right towards the boulder-covered ground below!!
Edna: 'OMG!!! Incan, please save him RIGHT NOW!!'
The Incan shrugs, as if 'Why Bother?' or 'Save HIM???' and then shouts into the void. 'Don't forget the Barrel Roll -- immediately -- when you splatter all over the -- (Edna kicks him hard) No, no I mean slam into -- (Edna adds a vicous bite to her hard kicking) -- Heyyy... ease up, babe.... No, I mean DO the Barrel Roll the instant, maybe a split second before you 'hit' the ground!'
Then the Incan turns to the others, laughing, 'What a hoot! That guy doesn't have a chance...'
Fiddles, sinking his vicious daschund teeth deep into the Incan's right leg, growls: 'SAVE HIM: NOW!!'
Walt, running his fingers over the top of his helmet, so nice and smooth. 'I feel like nothing can hurt me once I put this on...'
Edna, sweaty but beautiful, who's been working all day on improving the interior of their high-altitude scum-cave. 'Then try diving off the ledge outside our unit and see if you still feel the same way!'
Walt, turning decisively and walking towards their front door, or 'cave mouth', that opens onto the five-foot-wide, unprotected ledge -- the distance over a thousand feet to the rocky ground below!!
'You flakin' axle!' growls loyal, protective Fiddles, the now-talking daschund, as he races snarling towards the 'mouth' of their cave to stop or at least slow Walt down!
But Walt is tired of the mental battering he is getting from what he perceives is the 'team' of Edna and Fiddles, and he quickly turns left and then leans against the wall, so that when Fiddles comes out, he will think Walt has finally 'gone over the edge'!
Instead, though, the loyal and loving Fiddles sees open space outside thecavemouth, and immune to any fear but that about his longtime owner and caretaker, poises to himself leap over the edge!
Walt, in terror at this development, dives across the ledge, snatching Fiddles by his hind legs... But his momentum carries both of them OVER THE EDGE!!!!
Immediately, though, they hit a solid surface a few feet below the ledge... An automatic catchment ledge fashioned without any kind of electrical or chemical power by the ancient Aztecs, they learn later!...
Luscious revitalized Edna appears casually at the cave door: 'Hey, boys... In what kind of dangerous tomfoolery are you two tangled??'
Walt, sore despite the fact his fall was only a couple of feet: 'Tomfoolery?? I need someone to cart me to this resort's Infirmity to get myself checked out... You too, Fids!'
Immediately, an ancient carter appears around the curve in the ledge near their unit's 'door'...really just a curtain.
'Do either of you need a ride to the Infirmity? I'll be glad to oblige: But it will have to be one at a time...'
Edna steps out of the doorway, as the carter cries "Va-va-voooooooooooom!!' to himself.
Carter: 'I'm the carter, fellows... But Ladies first... You two males look fine to me... Just a little bruised.'
Edna: 'Huh? But I'm not even hurt?'
Carter: 'I don't care who you are: Climb in and enjoy the ride
Having purchased a beat-up, slanting old collapsible card-table from the management for $115 American and a deck of what turns out to be 49 greasy cards, including three 4's of diamonds instead of the aces of each suit and two Old Maids, the threesome, sitting around the card table, are trying decide what to play....while a very pleasant dry clean breeze steadily keeps the air fresh and dry in their cave perhaps 700 feet above the Mexican ground.
Walt keeps shuffling the cards as they try to decide which game, if any, to play....
Fiddles, winking lewdly at Edna: 'What about strip poker?'
Edna, annoyed: 'Sure... You're already naked... What have you got to lose?'
Walt, eyeing his adversaries: 'Well, all you have on is your bra and a pair of air-conditioned panties... While I am also featuring my air-conditioned Jockies....'
Fiddles, squinting, and growling a bit: 'Air-conditioned? I would say things down there are half in and half out, given the size of the holes in that sad pair of undies!!'
Edna, primly: 'I agree with Fiddles, Walt... Find something you can place on your lap, even if it is only Fiddles himself... The view is kind of seedy, not very scenic at all.'
Fiddles yaps angrily at Edna's suggestion: 'Why not lend him a pair of your panties... I sniffed -- no, I mean I saw you had quite a few panties, Edna, that looked pretty serviceable...Your waist measurements are about the same as Walts, I would say...' Fiddles finishes, eyeing Edna's groin and then Walt's, and then back and forth again, his head dipped under the table for the best view, as Edna's eyes flash and she again begins to raise her hand in a threatening way towards Fiddles....
When Fiddles finally returns 'above deck' again: 'Phewie!! We need to point the fan under the table, I think! Blow some of that fetid air back out at the Mexicans... as well of course as our other neighbors from the U.S. and supposedly a dozen other countries including Atlantis!'
Edna, raising her hand, as if he was still a mischievous pet rather than simply another intelligent, communicative animal like her and Walt.
Walt, jumping up and grabbing her hand in mid-air...'I think NOT! I know it's perpetually hot, and we all are frequently dripping sweat unless we're Fiddles who somehow has his armpits in his mouth... Let's accept among ourselves that we will each make a daily effort to become at least semi-clean and semi-decent-smelling, and leave it like that for now!'
Fiddles: 'Look, let's just start with something simple like War. Walt, deal us out three equal size piles of cards and then we'll start simultaneously each flipping over the top card, the highest card defeating -- and thereby capturing -- the other two, lesser cards!!'
Edna, dazed: 'What? In this uncertain, unfamilar environment, it may take Walt and I weeks to learn complex rules like that!!'
Fiddles, shaking his head: 'Okay. We'll flip one card up apiece and I'll tell you which one wins.... You should get the drift after just watching the flow of play for a couple days...'
Walt, concerned: 'Say... If what you describe is really a game, it sounds like someone might run out of cards after a while... What then?'
Fiddles: 'Well, of course, they lose. and have to be the gofer or servant for the other two players until one of them runs out of cards....'
Walt: 'Okay, but then what happens?'
Fiddles: 'Game over. I win.... I mean, the last person will own all the cards, Thus, they can decide which game to play next. Or, we could add kookie rules, like the losers have to lick the winners xxxxxxxx sparkling clean, or give them a nice cool bath, or a bone to chew on...!!'
Yes, as the sidebar indicates, the Browns have begun to settle into their unique new home, and have begun to experience the joy and contentment to which they are used, even though they are jonesing off their ungratified Ovaltine habit and finding the cave floor somewhat hard and uneven to sleep on.... And then Fiddles arrives, angry at their betrayal, their abandonment of him!
As Fiddles alternatively growls and whines and then suddenly seems peaceful and even a little playful, only to grown and whine and growl and snap again, Edna says: 'It has to be the rigors of his incredible journey....He's likely half out of his mind from the sun beating down on his thin fur....Then the frigid, windy, rainy nights. The experience may make him stronger in the long run... if a daschound could be said to have a 'long run' at 20+ years of age....But in the meantime, it has been very stressful and has lefted him in a weakened, emotionally unstable state!'
Just as if to dramatize his 'Mom's' POV, Fiddles approaches Walt snarling and gnashing his teeth and foaming sporadically at the mouth.... But then as Walt reaches gently out to calm him, he bites Walt's hand hard -- well, as hard as a dog with very few teeth and not much remaining vigor can...
Walt, rubbing his hand, reaches out again, ready to retract it...but really, it's only bleeding a bloody little bit....
And now Fiddles, those thousands of miles of following their scent to this hellish region having made him feel quite an adventurer and quite brave as well as weak and sick as a dog, a dog perhaps literally on its last legs....
'I'm all mixed up, guys.... I'm double-dog-tired from that seemingly endless four-legged death march... The heat, the sun on my tender, sensitive skin 'neath my thin covering of dark brown hair.... And worse yet on my bald spots....'
Walt nods, rubbing his still overly dry, sunburned bald area on his noggin. 'Tell me about it, pal... But, not to interrupt: Are you now finally capable to speaking our language, as it seems from your last comments... I mean, I always felt I knew you were saying the things like you just said, by your expression, and the tone and timbre and speed or leisureliness of your yips and yaps...and by your body language....and the smell and direction of your breath as well as that of your xarts.'
Edna, wild-eyed, looking back and forth at the two as they banter. 'Hey... Have you guys had this secret society all along.... But what about me.... What about my love and caring.... My special treats, like dog bisquites a la Ovaltinie....?'
Walt: Look.... I think we're all overwrought.... Let's just chill and accept things as they're happening.... This is the way it is and probably the way it's supposed to be....If there even is a 'supposed to be' in this crazy universe we call the Skunkville Sogga...'
Fiddles, nodding slightly, shuffles over, obviously in some pain from walking thousands of miles at his age, and shakily raises a paw for a 'high five'.... But instead, Walt gently holds it, using his other hand to support Fiddles' shaky body, and leans over and gives Fiddles a big sloppy kiss on the forehead.... Then backs away, nodding to Edna to complete the new ritual with her smooch.
Edna: 'No way, Jose....I'm not kissing that spot where there's all o' yer slobber.... But I will pick out my own spot to smooch him....'
Fiddles tilts and turns his head, trying to watch both at once, muttering 'I really need a split screen here...', studying Walt's reaction to this compromise. Walt shrugs, then thinks some more, and slowly nods. 'So be it...' he pronounces. 'We are a new family now in a new land. So it is also appropriate for new rituals to emerge...'
Edna, her old head shaking a bit, seems lost in thought, or caught in an impossible dilemma... Then she darts forward and gives him her big smacker right on his snout....Was there even some tongue to tongue action there for a second??? We'll have to check the slo-mo video replay for that.... And the engineer, cracking up, has just given me a thumbs up yes to photo-documented tongue tangling in the smooch!! As a surprised Fiddles swoons, rolling over on his back his paws in the air....his mouth drooling...his eyes bugged, looking at the roof of the cave!
Now that they have completed their terrifying, death-defying trip to their Unit 23G, they relax across from each other, Walt sitting against one curved cave wall, and Edna sitting in 'her' cavehole, similar to Walt's across the small, rather dark cave from him.
Walt: 'I wish we had thought to bring some furniture....Like your sewing chair and my easy chair... And a fan for Goodness sakes as well!!'
Edna, looking especially peaked: 'Well, you can stop beating yourself about that.... There's no electricity in this unit. We could only afford the cheapest unit, remember, and the man we were talking to did not speak or understand English, so we were unable to clarify much more than that if we assign our Social Security checks to them forever, there 'weel be nice scenic place for us two... where you can leeve till end of yer days....wheech blessedly may nots be too far awaist for yer sakeys, bless you both!''
Walt: 'Well, I'm glad to find out that the people who seem like they may be in charge have assured us that those hundreds and hundreds of elder skeletons and ruined, rusted elder carts at the bottom of the cliff are fake or 'borrowed' and were just put there to make sure the elders were careful when navigating their way up and down the narrow, sloping (in all directions), rock-strewn, half-broken-off cliff path that leads up to our high altitude location...'
Edna, a bit out of breath: 'Yes..... Walt.....isn't it......wonder......ful ....that we've.....pant pant! pant.....finally ....pant pant!. .. made......it to the.....pant! pant!.... pant...(Edna shaking her head... unable to finish).....
Walt beaming: 'I guess the secret word is....pant! pant! pant......TOP for $50...FINAL ANSWER! You want say 'Isn't it......wonderful we've finally made it to the TOP!! Well, babe, don't ever forget.... It's what I always promised you.... pant! pant! pant......To take you all the way....pant! pant! pant......up the ladder of downhome Midwestern society....pant! pant! pant......to the very TOP!!'
Walt wondering why he's momentarily thinking he's live on a widely-watched Mexican game show... Then he remembers how the government warned them that the first week or two at 10,000 feet would be experienced as physically coolish and also as somewhat pant! pant! pant. gee. I'm even panting in my thoughts now.....pant! pant! pant...... the first week or two at 10,000 feet would (GASP!!!) be experienced as short of oxygen....But that we....pant pant skirt!...... would adjust just as old....pant pant.... mountain goats inevitably do.....pant! pant! pant......GASP!!!)!!'
Then they both lose consciousness...and when they 'come to' several days later, they are thankful for the Elder Mountain workers who put them on and off oxygen during the intervening days, trying to wean the Browns -- not OFF oxygen entirely, but -- off the wasteful, overdone, spoiled brat oxygen addiction they had to a overdose of excessively good quality oxygen in the U.S.!!