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 RECENTLY PASSED THE 1,000 episode MILESTONE, each of the 1,050+ mini-epics each enjoyable on a stand-alone basis. Just in its three -plus years of existence, at this hard-to-find, off-the-beaten-path site and the even more obscure hard to find Skunkville threads on a few message boards  , the Saga has received many hundreds of thousands of reader visits, with a million visits not remote. Almost inevitably, as Skunkville continues to surge so far in virtual anonymity, it will eventually be 'discovered' by BIG interests and sold to them...AND IN THE PROCESS WILL LIKELY BE DRASTICALLY EDITED/REVISED/CONDENSED, MAKING IT LESS BIZARRE AND UNPREDICTABLE, MUCH MORE 'READER-FRIENDLY' AND 'SOCIALLY ACCEPTABLE'. THIS SITE WILL BE GONE AND ALSO MY RIGHTS TO PUBLISH THIS IN ITS PURE, ORIGINAL STATE. 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 energy and endless charm...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!
Yes, as you probably have heard through the grapevine -- or maybe even the picklevine -- Walt & Edna are now serving their sentences for not putting in periods on them here on a sharecropper prison farm in remote South Jersey, which the author is telling the dumbkov as well as the savoir faire is everywhere Skunkville readers is South Ohio, and surrounded by tall mountains that makes escape impossible. Walt and Edna have been working harvesting pickles in the hot Jersey sun, under the ruthless oversight of brusque Russki military guards...slaving in the hot sun with other people who are serving time for some kind of improper behavior: a parole violation, a payroll violation (repeatedly accidentally taking someone else's cash pay as well as your own for a business that doesn't want to do anything above the table, or even at the same level as the table), a pantyroll violation, a prole violation, a prowl violation, etc.
Given Walt's cantankerous personality and his hatred of illegality or cruelty -- even to people who have simply made a mild faux pas -- so, he has been giving the Russian guards and their alien overseers a hard time of it in any way he can to protest against all the unkindnesses.
Edna, ready to strangle the courageous but foolish man, who has now had to work naked in the hot sun, then work with a heavy greatcoat for the depths of Russian winter on his sweltering back -- until he became delirious and collapsed... Which the campleaders simply considered another black mark for Walt, and reason to mistreat the hardy but not invulnerable centenarian some more!
Edna: 'I'm telling you all... When I am free....You will all pay and pay dearly for all the pointless pain and trouble you are causing! Mark my warts!!'
For some unfathomable reason, they did not torture Edna for her forthrightness and courage in the face of the widespread mistreatment, but instead brought her a big sun umbrella beneath which she could do her pickle picking and planting, albeit having to go through the onerous task of uprooting the huge umberella and then 'replanting it' every few minutes as a result of her progress along the two mile row of pickles she was harvesting... And they even served her an ice cold Colt 45 in a bucket if ice along with a huge bowl of lowsalt pretzels... But she saw the Colt 45 was fired off in the air until all the bullets were exhausted from flying into the hot sky....
'Hmmm...' Edna thinks as she leans back on the nice lawn chair she was given as well,,,'I really should have asked them to give me regular high-salt pretzels, shouldn't I have, rather than the low-salt, low-fat kind Dr. Billes always warns me to use to keep my blood pressure from going ballistic? Or is it the other way around...low salt is good for when yer sweating like a pig in an endless pickle field...No: that hardly makes sense...I guess they should tell us to eat one of every ten pickles we harvest...But they're probably too greedy and would just as soon watch us slowing fade into a state of death for their own sick enjoyment...'
Of course the other workers are so exhausted they are hardly more than automatons now, and none of them gave Edna any input, and the overseers were not so nice now as to actually indulge her with legitimate replies to her many questions, so she just has to struggle along as best she can, making her own canned decisions, offering to freely share her loot with anyone nearby, even the guards -- who for some reason seem afraid of the sustenance she has been given... But then when one of the prisoners takes her up on her offer and quickly sucks down an ice cold Colt 45, she notes that he is beaten medium-hard with nightsticks and hung upside down from a tree branch for about half an hour, bruised and broken of spirits.... So she becomes very careful that no one receives any more of her pleasant loot, even though in her heart she wants to share with everyone, even her mean captors!!
The sun blazes down on the endless flat pickle field, nested and hidden away from citizen or government scrutiny between two huge forested mountains here in South Ohio...mountains that appear frosty at the top, and cool all down the side as Walt & Edna longingly stare at them, the mountains' shoulders funneling the power of the sun's molten leaden rays on Walt & Edna and the other Pickle Farming Slaves.
Although new to indentured servancy -- Walt's poorly fitted slave plate slipping around on the roof of his mouth -- he's going to have to complain to the slave farm's sloppy indenturist! -- ....The elderly have been kidnapped and abandoned here long enough to realize the importance of keeping a good hymn going along with the rest of the enslaved white and oriental people who do the backbreaking slavery. The slavery? Yes, of caring for the seemingly infinite number of rows and rows of near endless amount of greedy, parched, constantly begging for more water, evil-mannered, selfish pickles.... 'What? You think I'm a cucumber of something? I'm a freakin' pickle that is half-dead already from the high salt diet they forced on me!! And begging of course for Evian brand water in particular -- FAT CHANCE!! -- to feed their own raging need fiven their inherent saltiness and the misery of the roaring sunlight and screaming heat of noon in July.
Walt, a whip cracking across his back about mid-sentence: 'I guess the Afro-Americans were far too smart about stuff like this, and maybe in general ........
HEY XXXHOLE; Don't ye know what
It means I'm hurt: ease upski!!
You xxxkin' xxxxard!!.......
Thanksalot for doing that encore --
eggsactly the opposite of what I politely requested!!!!....'
CRACK! CRACK!! CRACK!!! SMASH!!
Walt: 'AAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHH!!!.... okay, alright already, mister!!............aaaarrrrrrgggghhhhhh!!.....Thank you so much kind sir for lightening up a....
Walt, writhing in pain, whispers to Edna: 'I guess you're damned if you do and damned if you don't!!'
AAAAAAAAAAAAARR (tbc) RRRRRRRGGGGGGGG tbc
Edna, whispering: 'You were trying to say that our Afro-American friends are far too clued in about these things in general, from their unwarranted and cruel treatment in the earlier days of the U.S....and even now to a lesser degree...for any of them to be dragged into something like this deadly scam. So, do you think they might help us out??'
Walt says nothing, just keeps bent over, picking the pickles that are ready for consumption in the consumer market, and shaking a teaspoon's worth of dried fishhead powder, an apparent miracle pickle fertilizer, on the smaller, 'cadet', or 'not quite ready for prime time pickles.
Edna: 'Strange, though, how many of the Pickle Military enforcers here -- our slave drivers -- have Russian accents.'
The nearest Russian guard cries out: '3amo^4n!'
Walt, thinking out loud, as he walks along bent over, checking each pickle plant and treating it according to the rules they have been taught while standing in ice water, to better improve their memory and alertness: 'Gee, did you catch that, Edna? Whatever he said, he really sounded like he meant it!'
Edna, agitated, whispering in the dry wind: 'Why don't you just shut up for a while and do yer frxxkin' job, like it or no...He probably was saying something like 'shut up or I will kill you right here and now... You're a really shxtty worker and probably will die from heat by the afternoon anyway!''
Walt, shakes his head and replies argumentively, and not very quietly: 'Was that what you think or a translation of what the guard was sayin'?? Look, how can this kind of scam exist in our own homeland?? This is an outrage! I'm going to write my congr....'
The Russian guard then cries out, raising his bullwhip in one hand and his Taser in the uther:
'I saids '3amo^4n!' you dumbcov!'
Walt: 'Yes, kind sir... But could you explain to me exactly what '3amo^4n!' might mea.......'
Tune in next episode, when we'll hear widow Edna say to their Russian guard: 'Hey Mr. '3amo^4n!', you hunky honeychild from the frozen North....How about we meet after our fireside dinner tonight, before the Russian military music sing-a-long???'
Russian Guard: 'Perhaps. Perhaps not. I do not like the way your blog perpetuates an outdated view of the kindly, ultra-modern Russian people...'
Edna, thinking about it: 'Yes, you're right. I'm sure this Pickle Farming assignment in uniform in 100 degree heat is not one you volunteered for... And I know the Russian people themselves are inherently goodniks as wellski....'
Anonymous person on Skunkville set....how did this unknown person get clearance...OH NO: This is usually a bad thing!!
Attractive, determined young female: ''Wait a second, let me speak!!!...and then I will depart quietly. So, are you the writer or notski?'
Writer on set: 'Yes, I am the writer and of course I know that pickles come from treatments of cucumbers, and cannot be grown straight out of the ground and be ready to popped into a pickle bottle and sold to numbnut consumers like you... We're not completely stupid here you know?!? It's just the story that's deliberately being stupid...Our classic, winning strategy... But how come you're poking your nose in here anyway, toots? And speaking of noses htat's a pretty long snottinger that you got, babe -- if we're talking about problems on the set... Our readers don't like us if they visualize our writers or romantic actors as being disfigured, out of shape, smelly, or wearing the same clothing they wore yesterday and the day before -- even if it's three different copies of the same outfit!'
'Hey, you're pretty sensitive about me picking up on the glitch in yer story, aren't you, big boy?'
'Glitch?? Are you out of yer mind... That's classic Skunkville humor: where something that couldn't really happen (e.g., slimy, salty pickles growing out of the ground rather than through the realworld process.
He continues: 'Stage Detective... What in hell's bells are you doing, letting this annoying bxtch on our set??... Geeze: I thought you valued yer job in today's tough business market: but I guess not... It's hot enuff and miserable enuff without having that dumb broad badgering me on my integrity and intelligence and worldy knowledge -- especially after a long day of directing this foul story in the terrific heat and humidity! I didn't get straight A's in Harvard from being a uninformed jerkhammer bonehead...like she is...'
WHACK!! Having enough of this, the director's critic goes into action with a real hard blow to the chin with her forearm. A forearm smash: just like in professional wrestling... Might she possibly be.....
'Suckority coad rett...' The director screams, having a hard time speaking properly from his newly-delivered injury and feeling panicked because of the tiny rivulet of blood inching down from one side of his mouth -- As the lovely attacker stands there, now relaxed, calm and cool in the South Jersey heat (the scene not really shot in Southern Ohio) not smiling, but seemingly admiring her right cross with handbag!
So plenty of things to look forward to -- if the writer remembers to address them -- in the next exciting episode of Skunkville, the blog-novel that EVERYONE who's ANYONE just can't stop talking about!!!
'Yes, I tried it and it was awful!'
'That Skunukville is the one kind of trash that SHOULD be banned, not only on the Web, but in any format or medium!!'
'I heard Brown has been safely locked away and there are only four more years worth of stockpiled episodes left to run...'
'I'm as open-minded as a person with the top of his skull blown completely off, but this blog really stinks!!'
'I caught my 32 year-old son reading it hidden away in his room, and have kept him locked up in the basement with no PC and just bread & water rations ever since!'
Walt, his eyes sparkling after the departure of Del Philips Forumszynski, the head mogul of Delphi Forums, including their small but growing Blaaaahhhgggggg Divizion, to which Edna and Walt have enjoyed contributing heavily....1.5 million King William wordsworth to date, with another rush of uncontrollable mental expulsion probably due at any moment... Oh wait... Thiz very document might be repository of such! Will wanderers ever cease? They must become tired. Yes, how about that! Winders never seize.
Edna, sitting curled up on Walt's soft lap...well except for one troublesome bony spot...that Walt says is from an old 'war' (at least what the word sounded like to me) injury....that gave him a lifetime bonus, so to speak....
'Delphi Farms and Workhouse were the fine places Del Phi mentioned... And he did say Texas Panhandle... But one time he said, 'You know, where the Panhandle is bent a bit and winds just a smidgen into what is technically and politically speaking Mexican territory!'
Walt, hugging Edna greedily: 'This new adventure makes me feel like YKW.'
Edna: 'What the devil is YKW?'
Walt: 'Oh, never mind, I'll show you in action...'
Edna: 'Oooooooooh oooooooh OOOO!! Oooooooooooooh oooooooooooooh OOOO!!ooooooooPPPSSS! HEY, GET YER HANDS OFF ME....Especially GET THEM RIGHT NOW out of the Texas Panhandle down there!!'
Walt, relaxing back: 'Yes, so it sounds, deeeaaar, reading betweeeeeen the lines, that we are to be disguised as Mexican sl-a-a-a-a-ves, perhaps working (as spies) for OR AGAINST some of the i-l-l-i-c-i-t g-a-n-g-s down there...!'
Edna: 'I - l - l - i - c - i - t......G a n g s!! W O W!!! I bet very few people in SkunkHill or whatever the name of this place is where we live have ever done anything as edgy and exciting as THIS... All we can lose is our lives, in the liverwurst case! AND my experience with Mexicanos is THAT THEY ARE ALL VERY NICE....so maybe this whole thing is a misunderstanding...or they are being manipulated by some evil force like aliens or some big bully country.'
Walt, shaking his head: 'Wow, Edna, you are really some kinda woman... At yer age, to be facing the brief, and becoming briefer with every new piece of information, remainder of yer life with such peace and enchantment and wild expectations!!'
Edna, frowning at Walt: 'I never was a coward, you know thet!... I mean, I married you, knowing all the trouble and heartbreak that you represented.... Guaranteed misery of unknown proportions. And see how well it's all werked out, at least maybe 30%-40% of the time... With all those long stretches of hopeless misery as well... But knowing another 30%-40% stretch of relative good times may be coming up again soon.... Maybe, if I can wait unother decade. No guarantees in life. And knowing that all you would probably be is dust in the wind centuries ago if I hadn't stepped into yer life....'
Walt, nodding: 'Yes, all we were is dust in the wind anyway...That's what they say in Kansas, where the wind is always blowing... They don't even need to own hair dryers or even towels in Kansas...And Kansas you know is just a short Kan's as from Mejico....So everything you say is true... No bout adoubt it!'
Edna: 'Okay, so: Should I pack a suitcase? You'll need to take plenty of your rectumeral creem, that's the one thing I know fer sure. You will be out of yer friggin' mind and drivin' me crazy without that creem... You know, I don't think I have anything like that where I go crazy without it.... You're more the addicktive type...You know, I gotta watch you more carefully and to see if yer eating the RECTUMERALTM or sticking it up yer nose or something!'
Walt, pulling Edna further onto his lap and starting to shower her with affection...
'Tee hee tee hee tee hee tee hee tee hee tee hee tee hee tee hee tee hee tee hee tee hee tee hee tee hee HEY!!@ STOP THAT RIIIGGGGHHHHTT NOW!!!'
Walt, impatiently waiting: 'When did you say that bus would be stopping to take us over to visit Senior Citizen World?'
Edna, still putting the final touches on her makeup in the living room mirror: 'Yes..Just think: A world just for people like us....Just like those playgrounds or amusement parks they used to have for us when we wuz chillen!'
Walt: 'I'll never forget the Exposition Universelle in Paris in -- oh I would take a stab -- and say the 1860's!'
Edna, shaking her head in disapproval. 'I don't like you talking about 'taking a stab' right around the time that President Lincoln was shot at the theatre by John Waxed Boot!!'
Walt, nodding: 'I catch your sentiment and feel the same... But don't ever expect a knife to shoot a bullet, or a gun to shoot a knife...And I don't think the villain's name was John Waxed Boot, either.... Maybe John Bilks Woof.... No, that's not right either. Let's face it, Edna, the security for our important government people just wasn't good enough back then. Why, you could even be one of those magazine subscription salespeople, and the Lincolns would have to open the door and be bored with your pitch for at least a polite while, so as not to lose any votes from stories about them being rudenecks.'
Edna, rubbing her chin in thought: 'But what about us now, Walt... We are celebrities of a sordid sort...I mean, that blog person, that peeping tom....'
Walt adds: '...and pooping Tom, too, don't forget... Using our bathroom for his smelly desposits while he hides in our house taking pictures of us when we aren't looking, and recording and altering our conversations on that new-fangled tape recorder of his. Then he goes and become famous and probably a millionaire from all that Internet posting he does of OUR PRIVATE LIVES of all sacred things...And the way he twists and turns everything to make us seem dumb and also demented, like sex addicts!'
Edna, trying to SHUSSH him so she can add her two centavos: 'Yes, but on the other hand, he has made us quasi-celebrities, albeit everyone in town knows about even our dirtiest, most soiled, most smelly laundry!'
Walt, perusing the subject, trying to loft it up to a higher plane: 'Yes... If we only knew who was behind him and what his or their End Game was...What is the payoff, the loadstone that they are seeking from all this intrustion of our lives.... Albeit, it has made us minor celebrities, and we sometimes get better seats in restuarants or freebies because people like to rub shoulders with famous people, even if they are repulsive, or just plain boring and unexceptional like us! I mean, after thay ask us a few questions, they usually start making wisecracks so that we'll get angry and then their photographer will have a story and maybe they will have a lawsuit against us!'
Edna: 'Wouldn't it be great if they actually paid us something for all this exposure -- and general work in terms of always playing to whatever the audience is, trying to be funny and stupid.... Someone our readers or really any normal person can feel superiority to...'
Walt nods: 'Yes, I know what you mean. We are kind of like the lowest possible grade of people, leading pointless lives in a boring, stupid community. But why did they pick Ohio then? Wouldn't West Virginny be just as good?'
Edna nods, then suggests: 'Yes, but the roads are so hilly down there... They might have some logistical problems, tire and brake problems.
Walt: 'Well, and I refuse to ever read that Bllaaaggggghhhhh thing that is published with all the lurid stories and pictures... I'm glad we gave away all of our PC's and are now leading a cheerful, naive, Internet-free existence!'
Edna: 'Yes, remember our goal is to regress back to illiterate, non-communicative simple 'cave-people-like beings before we part ways with Earth and head on to our great reward -- or roaring, redhot penalty for being so ordinary or so sinful in ways we didn't know were real taboo-boos!'
Walt, shaking his head: 'No, Edna, I think you're wrong there. Ordinary is good. Standout and prideful is where the risks begin to mount. That's why we have to get back to church real soon... Our time may soon be coming, and we want to quick catch up on all the latest angles and tricks and gimmicks and proper attitudes and behaviors that will guarantee us a nice berth in the next world.'
Edna, shaking her head at Walt's nonsense: 'You make it sound like we can really fool and fake our way in.... Don't you remember: It's the pureness in our heart that matters most, you numbskull! and the Power knows the troof...there's no fooling that will ever werk!'
Walt: 'Hey, that sounds like a real racket to me for some reason...I'm more of a weasler who weasles his way in and out of trouble... If I have to be a fine, upstanding citizen FOR REAL 24/7....Edna, I think you're going to be alone in Paradise...'
Edna nodding: 'Yes, I am expecting that to be the case. But there probably be some nicer, handsomer, more intelligent, more interesting, more upstanding surplus men up there whose wives had some weighty flaws and therefore didn't accompany them....'
Edna, taking off her Mrs. Clause bonnet and scritching her hare wi' vigger: 'O my, Santer...This swiltering bonnett will be th deeth of me. Mr. Prod-us-sir, kin me liten and kul me hed fer a m'munt if yer doan mined?'
Porducer, loudilly thru his meggyphone: ''Grenny..Git thet het bek on yer het if'n ye kno whutz guud fer ye!'
Sweltering Santa/Walt: 'Ye kno Edner... I herd TV wuz lick thiz...My temperCheer wints 'bov 101 jess from me outfet. let aloney the litts... I bet itz arund 106 1/2 dungarees ret noo.'
Edner: 'What kinda a Santa Clawz acksent is thet yer tryin to eexactucute? It rally stenks reel bad!!!''
Porducer, loudilly thru his meggyphone: ''Grenny..I culdnt agreet wid yu merr: Wultz Santa Clawz jacksent rally stenks reel bad!!!''
Santer/Wult: 'But wize weez all tilkin lick idjuts? Whuts yer plant hurr??'
Porducer, loudilly thru his meggyphone: ''Wult..I culdnt agreet wid yu merr: Letz stupp th' dialerkt ret nuw!!'
Edner: 'Oh my, what a relief... I felt as if I were going insane...'
Santer/Wult: 'Well, for my purt, I was enjoyin' it quiyte a bet!'
Perducer: 'Well, I think this whole thing sxcks to high hivin....You two both sxcks to high hivin, whoever write-in this sxcks to high hivin, and I doan wan no perts of it enny mor.'
Edner, shaking her head in confusion: 'Yit yer stills dwan it: I doon waent no perts of et enney moor...'
Preducster: 'Thets nut exerctally wet aye sid, ladey!!'
Just at this moment, the no-ninsense $backer$ urrives: 'Whut kinda a shxtenyermuthtilkisthet?? Let's make this a professional, serious production, without the heavy, affected diallylogs!!'
Producer: 'Right-O bissman, I'm gladdy yer 'rived!'
Edner: 'Yer still talkin like ye hav shet en yer mout! Just a warning, not a criticism. I doan wanta nice boy like you t'get in truBBle, with a capital B!!'
More thrilling, realistic, inside-view backstage action to cum sune,,,mebbe eben an eddition onto thess eppysode!
'Why dadblast it, Edna... You have just been so difficult with me lately!' Walt comments with hostility as he struts towards the bathroom to retrieve his copy of The Daily Telegraph, a British publication popular in London, and read around the world in sophisticated circles.
'OMG! Edna!!! It's fallen into the toilet... And I forgot to flush! What a horrid mess... I've never seen -- or smelt -- anything quite this bad before! What am I to do? Call the plumber? The potter? The police?'
Edna continues her sewing work for the needy, not altering her pace one bit: 'That kind of talk speaks to the degree with which you have led a pampered, selfish life!'
Walt staggers out of the powder room, holding onto the walls of their Skunkville home, in a daze: 'OMG!! Now not only do I have the world's biggest mess to face alone, with no one by my side for support, but now you are accusing me of utter vileness and worthlessness!'
Edna, sewing on, a small smile cracking her beautiful face: 'As these American's cry: 'Yay!!' You got my message for once!'
At this moment. there is a polite rapping on their door, and Walt staggers unevenly towards the door, more traumatized than he can ever remember being in his admittedly sheltered, pampered, protected life...'Yes, what are you delivering, man?' He says when he opens the door and sees trillionaire Don Del Phillippe Forumszynski, humble but extremely wealthy communications genius.
Don Del: 'I couldn't help but hear your cries of anguish, well-known gentleman of the high life, Walt Brownini....as well as your lovely and much-admired maternal partner's sighs of exasperation at your distress... It was a situation that seemed to be spiralling out of control --'
'Yes!' Walt interjects, nodding: 'Much like a nuclear meltdown... In my towne houses own powder room!!' I had warned Edna that this place, at only $100,000 a month in rent, was probably not a safe, reliable place to live -- that undue disasters were probably the norm here... Or whatever... You catch my drift... I can see that in your intellgent, genetically blessed eyes!'
Don Del, rolling up his sleeves, and turning towards the powder room as Walt looks on in amazement... 'Don Del! Don Del!! Please! Your life and health are too valued, too valuable...'
But the cowardly Walterio is afraid to follow him into the disaster site... Plus, his sensitive stomach and bowels would no doubt rebel in such a venue, leading to even a larger, mor personal disaster from which he might never recover!!'
In a second, Don Del is out of the bathroom, his sleeves still rolled up, but a smile on his face...
Walt scurries over to him and embraces him, and then, in a sign of utter awe at Don Del, falls to knees and kisses and licks his hands -- the hands of a great, courageous, infinitely resourceful man!!!'
When things have calmed down a bit... mainly Walterio's enxiety, distress, and worshipfulness of Dom Del, Walt humbly asks him: 'How....how....how....how....'
Don Del, now throughly washing the hands Walt had repeatedly kissed and slurped and worshiped like a common street dog: 'Well, I just rolled up my sleeves and reached into the mess and tore the thick newspaper up into maybe a hundred small pieces... It didn't take long, really... The paper was very weak from all the saturation. Then I was able to flush the disgusting, smelly, thickish brown water, now much more uniform in consistency and color and content -- In just one quick flush!! Mr. Brown? Mr. Brown?? Oh my... Lovely Mrs. Brown' (he says softly, because she is right at his side, pressing herself against his manly physique...'Where..............is.....Mister.....'
Edna giggles: 'Oh, he became so upset when you told him about what was on the hands he had just kissed and slurped that he jumped out the window -- right through the glass -- Feel the kindly, lovely breeze... What a lovely day.... And what a lovely man....you are!!'
As Skunkville continues its drive to 'clean up its act' and 'become more high class' and 'more dramatically thrilling!'
Edna pointing out through the open space where the window was: 'See, Don Del Phi Forums Zynski, see that man that everyone is chasing after out there in the park across the street? Everyone loves to chase a madman!'
The doorbell of the Brown's house, just recently replaced with the cheapest model at CrxpMart, a loud, jarring buzzerd, always stands the shocked Browns' hair on end when some quiet visitor fires it off by pushing the button without warning -- the visitor often running away and never returning, scared xxxxless themselves -- And of course, being trapped inside at its mercy, its sound immediately puts the Browns' nerves on the jagged edge... Not because they are afraid of who might be at the door, but because the loud, obnoxious sound itself stimulates an immediate response of terror in almost anyone.
Walt, wiping his brow: 'My heart practically jumps out of my chest when that implement of aural and psychological torture is 'fired off'' by someone with a heavy finger on the button!!'
Edna, pale, holding her breast, trying to resume breathing after the sudden shock of the horrid sound. 'Y-yes W-Walt... Why not invest an-another $8.99 to replace it...???'
Walt: 'That's the problem, Edna... The next step up was all the way to $11.49!! That's quite a high hurdle for someone our age, who was brought up when a gizmo like that would maybe cost $0.29 cents if that, fully installed! Except, of course, in those days, the visitor would have to crank up the doorbell with dozens of rotations of the hard-to-turn outside crank in order to make the thing go in the first place...thus discouraging loud rings! But now that we recently entered this electrical age...'
Edna, still twitching and jumping as the loud, machine-shop-style buzzing and screeching continues intermitently, 'Yes, and I guess most visitors were too lazy to make it really loud if they had to supply the power...BUT WHY DON'T YOU ANSWER THE XXXX DOOR NOWWW!!!!????'
Walt, nodding knowingly,still thinking of a prior statement of his beloved Edna's: 'Yes, all except the bill collector... By his doorbell cranking and repeated harrowing buzzes, he soon had debtors at the door of their own house, begging him to come in for coffee and dessert while they paid the bill in cold U.S. cash... If he accepted thaaahhhhht...!' finishes Walt, convulsing at the end of his comment when the horrid door noise in the hear and now begins again like a last warning air raid siren!
In a moment of bravery and self-abandonment in the face of torture, Edna dashes to the front door and throws it open... and is amazed to find that it is Del Phillipe Forumsynzki, the most powerful man now in the trillion-dollar Delphi Forums & Subsidiaries aka DLFX on the New York Stock Exchange!!
The debonair billionaire enters saying: 'You can just call me Delphi Forums for short...I've come to introduce you to your less expensive replacements. They will need briefing on exactly what's happened so far since the tale began back in September of 2010, over 1,000 episodes ago. Not that we really want them to be like you... You're canned because you could never consistently hold the 1st place position in the Delphi Forums visitation standings, even though you were competing against talented, motivated amateurs who were being paid nothing for their fine work!!'
Edna, sidling closer, can't resist now in his presence: 'How do you feel about seeing me again, Delly.... Remember the last time you came...when Walt was away?????'
Walt turns white, Del turns kind of reddish grey: 'Surely, you're mistaken in whatever outlandish, incriminating events you have fooled yourself into remembering as true. I've never ahem (looking down at his hands to see if he has his fingers perfectly crossed for maximum forgiveness) been here before....that I recall...never....now I might be wrong about that...I make many visits to our staff and contributors... I try to visit each blog writer personally every six months of so...We absorb the travel cost....You know, the Delphi Forums private Leer Jet....
Edna: 'Yes, I do remember your leering style... But you were quite charming too,,, and Walt was away...And, as I recall, you pushed a drink or two on me...maybe slipped a little pill in one...and then**....?'
** See ~March 15, 2013 episodes in Archive on this very site
Walt, reddening: 'Hey, I'm right here guys! Don't be so rude... Talk about this privately sometime on your own dime.... I don't need to hear all the details. I love Edna despite her shortcomings and her slip-ups... Some women just have a wild side that they'll never lose until they croak....and maybe not even then... Have you read about this strange phenomenon called sexwalking in the latest issue of Fate Magazine?? They explain that promiscuity among women of age often occurs within a trance that was activated by a master hypnotist, using cues such as blinks of his eyes, or the cutting of specialized fxrts with a sound and odor-encoded message only the controlled woman can sniff and snare, leaving other observers looking at each other ('was it you who...') but basically clueless... and giving the man complete control of the sexual behavior of his 'hypnotized harem'.'
Del, nodding: 'Yes I have, and all you said: well said, Walt. I have always admired your work on your Blogovision medium pioneered here at Delpi Forums.... Call your local cable dealer for details, reader, on how you can follow Walt & Edna's lives 24/7....Of course, re-runs of highly-rated episodes or ones where they are sleeping or going pee-pee or po-po or put-put are not included in the main service so as not to nauseate or otherwise offend the viewer....But perhaps a deal can be made on a case by case basis for someone who craves a true 24/7, no-edit blow by blow of the action....or, usually, lack of action with these two!
Del continues though: 'You know,' he says, then shaking the hand of first Edna and then Walt, 'You have drawn many readers to your blog with your unsavory stories of sleazy or ridiculously fantastic lives. That being said.... Your multi-year contract with Delphi is being reconsidered, and we may want to DROP your fantasy sooner... Like next week, if not before... possibly even right this minute. We have a replacement couple where the same basic schtick or is it Schick? will be attempted, but this time under more Delphi control rather than having you, Walt, operating as a complete loose cannon!!!'
TO BE CONTINUED
Walt, relaxing with the typpo-riddenn fat Sunday 'It's-the-all-day-reamd!!' edition of the prestigious and award-winning (e.g., Worst/Sleaziest Newspaper Ever in World History of Journalism: #1st Place 10 Years in Row, Most Typergraffickle & Grammatickle Arrowrs: %1ts Palce)
Skunkville Eye Poker and Bum Scraper: 'We'll poke you in the eye with some thrilling pictioriated news and, after reading, you will gladly scrape your can with some of the most awfulk stories ever poorly, incohearently written about some of the most heinieous peepholers in the world'
Walt: 'Now, wait, Edna... Don't head out to the gorcery store without lissening just a little bit! You know, the town is in an uproar about their lead story! I don't know whether they dreamed it all up to attract readers, or if they really believe every word's true but we are going to discount it because they are such poor journalists...and then pay a heavy price for that oversight!!'
Edna, a bit surprised....'Why did the newspaper slip out of your hands and onto our needs-cleaned living room floor... I saw you were gripping it quite firmly.... You know dear... At your age, you don't want to croke just from holding a copy of The Skunkville Eye Poker and Bum Scrxper too tightly to your breasts!
Walt looks down, really upset....'Oh....I see what you mean Edna....I may need to borrow one of your brahs...Plus this newspaper's content is so slimy, the pages actually seem to have a slimy, slippery, suspicious smelling sheen to them.....And my neck is so stiff and also fat I guess that I never look down far enough to see how things are about to slip out of my hands...and my hands have become so fat lately, I think I've lost my sense of touch and even feeling... That's why our lovemaking hasn't aroused me as much, and I had to do those really phony sounding, lame grand finale noises... and also why we had to call Dr. Billes...Oh, I hope I didn't break any of yer ribs!! I feel so bad...But then again, you said you thought all the 'action' was more or less fine and were disappointed when we had to stop for Dr. Billes exam of moi! I guess I better go back to the Old Men's Survivalist Spa... If they don't kick me out for being cross-gender, or even just a straight-on female trying to look 'butch'...'
Edna, nodding: 'Yes, that would be sad... And the town gossips would start up then... With their wild imaginations: 'Yes, I saw Walt trying on and then buying a fraternity -- or maybe even a sorority bra in ScumMart the other day!!... I wonder why I didn't put two and two together right thin and thar....' Then the other replies: 'I guest that that means that flat-chested Edna is a man, or maybe a male inpersonator -- except actually she looks to be a wo-man interpreting a man, not a member of the farther sex.... But maybe that would explain how they had Wally Jr. when they were eaggch over 150 years old...'
Walt: 'But how would that eggsplain anything at all?' 'Huh?' 'I mean, if you Edna are a man, and have fooled me all these years, knowing how easily fooled I am... How then could you have had the baby -- plus yer too old in case yer not a male! People would goss-up: 'Yes, well they're both too old to be trying to procreate some monster that's a combination of them...' 'I get it, you're saying Walt had the baby... and maybe he's nursing another one right now that we don't know about yet?'
Edna: 'But I thought, when you started reading a story from this rag to me, you had something important to tell me... Not the standard old news most Americans can cry out: 'I weight too much! I'm outa shape!! My xxxxxxxx (could be any number of things) is sagging, getting huge (or shirking, shrinking to nothing jest to tormentalize me)!!'
Walt: 'You're right Edna... I think you're really onto something for once... I had something vital to tell you, information of the Highest Urgency, the Greatest Importance, the Most Profound Pending Impact on us and perhaps all other peepholes of the world...'
Edna, nodding understandably, rubbing Walt's upper back and neck very nicely and gently and smoothly....
Walt: 'Aaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh..... Ooooooooooooooh!!.....That is soooooooo wonnnnnnnnrfulllllllll.... I jussssssst canttt thank you enoughhhhhhhhhhhhhhfffffffffffffffffffffff!'
Edna: 'I'm sure you know full well that its not unusual for someone of our age or even younger to occasionally lose their train of thought....get off on a wrong track....have their thinking derailed by the slightest interruption..... get lost.....And sometimes, they never can remember what IT was.... But does/did IT really matter?? Are we two, still in love as when we were teenyboopers, to have our marital bliss shattered by something so trivial as a fergotten thought...
And some experts say you ferget things that aren't worth remembering, like the time that bully, Georgie Fleahammer, stole a kiss from me, deliberately doing it while YOU were watching us... Just for the fun 'burning someone up' who wouldn't dare fight with him....'
Walt, looking skyward, lost in thought: 'My, my -- That seems like just yesterday, doesn't it Edna? And I can honestly say that I have no animosity anymore towards that Georgie Fleahammer... Especially since he was run over and killed in his own driveway. We even became friends later on, before his wife's auto-matic 'mistake' (he had taken out a big policy on his life at her bequest) terminated him with extreme prejudice...But while still in one piece, mebbe a week before the sad accident, he apologized the last time for it, on top of about dozens prior times -- So much so, I started avoiding him, when I guess I was his only friend....And then he shot himself!!'
Edna, nodding understandably, and hugging Walt in a motherly rather than horny fashion: 'He shot himself, after his wife's driving over him by mistake in the driveway left him with a bad right foot. There, there, little boy.... It's all right... It's all right...'
Then she feels Walts' shoulders begin to gently shake, and he begins sobbing...
She makes a disgusted face as she slows down her consolation rubs, feeling like she may be about to throw up or kick him real hard.... And then she does suddenly have to let go -- Her torrent of vomit drenching the repulsive The Skunkville Eye Poker and Bum Scrxper publication almost beyond recognition.
Walt stops crying and looks over at the barf-soaked newspaper, and then begins crying even more hysterically. Later, he explains that his family always considered the press to be the defender of Truth and Proper Disclosure of things people should know, whether they liked learning about them or not...
Edna: 'Shuddup right NOW before I slam you with this sopping, worthless piece-of-sxxt, stupid, mindless newspaper!!!'
To her amazement and disgust, Walt's sympathy now shifts to the soaking wet disgusting 'rag' itself!!!
'C-c-co-ome to da-da, poor Mr./Ms. Paper let out in da rain and in da vomit sturm ...' Walt manages, his voice shaking like a 3 year olds'.... 'No, on second thought, never mind.... Yer face is a mess....You've torn yer dress...How could they know? You can't get enough, but enough ain't the test! So how could they know? I said, how could they know?'
Edna: 'Know what? That yer a looney bird that finally flew over the coo-coo nest?'
Italicised lyrics above from David Bowie's great song Rebel, Rebel
Walt: 'Gee, Edner.... I never figured we would be considered aligned with The Dark Side of the Force.'
Edna, looking at him, head tilted: 'Who said we were?'
'No, Edna, I think it is whom said we were...'
Edna: 'You better be careful with those kinds of grammatical attempts at humor... You know, some people are very strict about that as well!'
Walt: 'Okay, as part of our schtick, well maybe we should schtick to something safe so we don't keep having our posts erased and/or edited... How about nursery riddles?'
Edna, her face looking as if she was sucking a lemon: 'I've always despised those foolish things...'
Walt, shaking his head and nodding in the direction of the growingly aggressive censors: ''Despised' and 'foolish', Edna... Some people would consider those pretty harsh words... You better watch yourself...You don't want to cross the line again. You know, sometimes I think YOU'RE the Loose Canon, taking and exhibiting pickshures -- mental or even photograhical -- that push us right over the dreaded line, into the worst, 'inappropriate for everyone' rating. From now on, we apparently must need to schtick to material that even a prude or a prune would find barely exceptable...'
Edna: 'Yes, and as figments of some unknown jerky probably mentally ill writer's imagination, we are on a short leasch -- Plus now, he's apparently made us more abrasive and over the imaginary line than every before...'
Walt: 'You're right there Edna... But why 'guy'. Why not a girl (i.e. vous) who doesn't know when to stop pushing the enevlope... Into the stuff-ed mailbux, without pulling out other people's mail and dumping that into the saltmarsh!....But, do you know, we had over a thousand entries on this blog with not a single editorial deletion or alteration... And now it's becoming a daily event! Weird thing is, we've never changed what we've been doing since the start!'
Edna: 'Okay, enough of that! We don't want any more trouble -- you need to stop provoking Them... And speaking of that, do you remember when we went to the Drive-In to see that movie 'THEM' about the giant grey aunts caused by atomic testingk? But I'm game set & match to try some riddles if you think that will keep us on safe ground...well, that's ridiculous: But maybe less imminently deadly ground...'
Walt: 'Well, safe ground is really having everything, pitecures and all, completely backed up and dupicated and ready to make a break for another home.... Which we have done of course all along. We can be shut down and be back up somewhere else within five minuets!'
Edna, trying to move off this sordid, self-centered fun-killer of a topic, reaches for the riddles: 'What is as big as an elephant, but weighs nothing at all?'
Walt: 'A balloon helium replica of your buttski? Me, in my ghastly form?'
Edna: 'What about an authentic elephant hide, including the head, inflated with healium?'
Walt: 'Well, what's the antser?
Edna: The official ansewer is A jumbo SUV filled with very overweight passengers floating in outer space..
Walt: 'Ansewer is right! Is there oxygen and adequate heating for these poor overweighters anonymi -- people like moi? Nevermind...Next, please....'
Edna: 'What starts with P, ends with E, and has hundreds of letters?'
Walt, screwing his face up into this frightening looking ultra-heavy thinking expression: Hold it...hold it now... I know this one... Okay, ready?'
Walt: Prelrghaerihgpfjlydgthrurhfkbvdcjhfngdbsodbyrjurvhjngfrvlkxinbvhd fdmsvbxgnfdisvhjknfdnhxjyhgvoujzxnfdt cvcdnoq.jdffdnufjhnrldnkrnhsiybgsvbvhvsdhfdngdee...'
Edna, looking skyward, shaking her head: 'How did you ever so distinktlally pronownce those gooky-garbly sounds like thet? But, I'm sorry, I don't believe that is a real word. What does that super-long foreign word mean??'
Walt: 'In a nutshell: Rkejfnwer.'
Edna, shaking her head: 'You just made that nearly unpronouncable word up, you devil!'
Walt: 'Okay, next riddle, my dear -- and please, above all, keep wahtever you say clean as the fresh fallen snow used to be pre-Industial Revpollution!'
Edna: 'What has two hands, a round face, always runs, but stays in place?'
Walt: 'The same thing you get as if you milk a cow after an earthquake!'
Edna: 'HEY!! Are you talkin' dxrty again, creating a sleazy milieu for the people of the 21st century to rock on in?'
Walt: 'I'll give you one, Toots... I travel the world and I am drunk constantly? Who or what am I?'
Edna: 'I know that one -- That's easy... The writer of this top-of-mind mindless braindump before he went to Overdrinkers Autonomous!'
Walt: 'You mean the real Walt Brown... Not me, his fictional altarEggo, but my 'father' -- who berthed me on his own -- who is the real villain...if what we are doing is villainy here every day for almost the last four years!'
Edna, rubbing her hands together: 'Hey, that AltarEggo sounds delicious now you mention it...I vote for Eggos washed down with a hearty, foamy stein of Ovaltine right now -- I'm headin' twards the kitchen as I speak,...!'
Walt: 'Yes, and I agree with the idea of making the dual, conjugular eating of Eggos at the altar part of the official Ohio wedding ceremony would be a fabulous new twist to the otherwise repetishous and boreing current ceremoaanial practices... But we better stop here, because we don't want to waste effort creating any more top 'o mind crxp that will never see the light of day...'
Edna, looking up, beaming, thinking of the sublime concept of 'wasting effort creating more crxp that will never see the light of day...': 'What happens, then, Walt, when our crxp sees the light of day....Does it cause chemical changes in it, purify it? And why is creating crxp a waste of time... Constxpxted people would surely disagree!!'
Readers: Be assured that if this material (all the episodes and visuals in their entirety, including this one) suddenly disappears from here, it will reappear very quickly somewhere else. in a matter of hours, maybe even minutes!!... And in its unexpurgated entirety!! Be sure, as one of the innovative, open-minded original fans, or as a fascinated, star-struck newcomer -- that you're there when Skunkville advances its sinister, occasionally mildly foulish-mouthed but always gentle and love/life-affirming plan to Conquer the World before it's done!
With Ella suddenly under the weather, he has gently placed her in Edna and his marital bed, which he had made extra nice & comfy with a very careful job of bringing out their (as far as he knew, anyway) best and cleanest and least stained sheets and pillows and pillow cases, and then spent hours making the bed so that it looked perfect, like in a romance movie. Not of course with the thought in mind of any kind yanky-spanky-planky...!!! Heavens to Betsy, no! Walt realizes, as he puts it, 'That's a one way ticket to the graveyard and then quickly on to eternity in the Blast Furnace of the 'Other Place'
'Besides, she would probably become ill if she had to make love with someone as obviously old as I am... And then that would surely put a damper on any fun we might otherwise have. Plus, she keeps telling me how my profile and coloring reminds her of President Obama, and I can see him aging by the minute, poor guy. Who would ever want a job like that? And as far as me being on the dark-skinned side of the spectrum, I always remember that women always want someone 'tall, dark, and handsome'...so at least I would have one-third of the equation...And if my face is really starting to look more feature-wise like that handsome Mr. Obama's, maybe close to two-thirds...Although no one will ever be as handsome AS my man, poor misunderstood Richard Nixon! I mean, I went to the new X-Man movie ten times already just to see Tricky Dick and those Sentinels!'
Walt continues to mull: 'But, other than wearing platform shoes, and probably falling alot and maybe even being killed by a car or a train, I don't know quite how to obtain that 'tall' element of the hot-male trifecta! So maybe two out of three ain't so bad......'
Just then, his intense concentration is broken by what sounds like Ella, calling out for him. Now even Walt is able to see the butterflies shooting out of his ears, eyes, mouth, heart, navel, and....
'Oh, just to be my fat old self again... I'm far too old to be someone else....It's way too stressful!'
p.s. DON'T FORGET THE PRIOR EPISODE WHERE EDNA IS AT BEANVILLE MANOR HAS BEEN GREATLY EXPANDED/ALTERED!!