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 currently has 1,531,544 words, longer than any known, easily obtainable novel other than >Artamene ou de Grand Cyrus<,completed around 1650 AD, which boasts 2.1 million words Each of the Skunkville's 1,100+ mini-epics highly enjoyable on an a la carte stand-alone and are even better if consumed in sequence from Episode 1 to Episode 1,000+ basis. Just in its four busy years of existence, at this hard-to-find, off-the-beaten-path site plus a few no-longer-existant Skunkville threads on unrelated but busier forums  , 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 re-engineering the novel from scratch as an at once eminently readable/mid-brow/accessible comic-book style novel hybrid, flourishes on its own tireless, restless, bizarre, inquisitive energy despite lack of any publisher or other support/funding; just a guy hammering away on his pc as he laughs his xxxs off several hours a day! judged most similar to Skunkville according to Kirkus critics....both among the greatest novels of all time!
The next morning, Walt-1, who is the closest of any of the Walt-variations to being like the Walt Brown that Skunkville has known and at times loved for all these many decades, some would say centuries -- Well,like I said, this morning Walt is trying to round up his troops (of simulacra) of thousands of random variations on himself and gradually get rid of them (excluding the Olde Original Walt Brown,or Walt Prime as he calls himself i.e., whom he is pretty sure IZ himzelf: but it's confusing to him with all the thousands of other rip-offs, quasi-Walts, semi-Walts, Walt-imitators, uninvited wankers, shankers, crankers, look-alikes and sound-alikes and seem-alikes that are as, phoney, and as rip-off according to the supposedly quite knowledgeable Walt-1 as a $2 bill... oh wait, Walt 1 thinks: maybe I better make that a $3 Bill...those stupid 2-baggers may still be hanging around, tacked up on the bulletin board in some Italian Hoagarie. He doesn't care at this point what his imitators and his flimflamatators and simulators and prestidigitaters do -- in his mind, they ought all be tossed forever into the clink and the key swallered by the jailor and then the whole building cemented shut forever, except for a hole in the roof for the county heliocopter to drop food & drink ... with a virtually inescapable 100 foot high shockingly electrified fenzzzzzze around it, with the juizzzzzze running hard and and heavy and hot and zzzzzparky 24/7/365
Meanwhile he like most of the other ersatz Walts is walking back out of the Forbidden Forest so as to reach the desolate 17-mile partly paved, pot-hole-ridden back road to Skunkville as soon as possible, so as to beat any imitator, any shanker, any wanker from trying to get to his wife Edna and mix her up by making her think that the fakir is the realir Walt!!! Scientifically speaking, he also hopes and believes that these fakes can't exist forever without some encouragement, and that they will soon begin to fade and then disappear....leaving in the road only their sour-smelling outer clothes and their stinky, stained underwear, plus their beatup shoes or 'leaf-shoes' they made in the Great Forest of Doom, some using poison ivy leaves for heaven sakeys....And our pal Walt, as cranky as he can be at times, but I mean, how well would deal with this kind of dilemma? I'm sure you can quickly come up with a parallel experience in your own life.
As I was about to say, Walt dearly hopes the number of simulacra will diminish, hooking up and somehow merging with similar simulacra and then hopefully that the composite simulacra some carrying mulitple temporary identites, which by then will have incorporated humdreds of possible variations or deviations on himself and will somehow by some stroke of luck be almost identical to Walt himself, so that Walt-1 and the few remaining composites can join to stay unified forever, perhaps opening their own Walt Force Base.
Walt begins thinking... 'How many of these me-like composites are there anyway??... When I turn back to look at them following me, the crowd of limping, fxrting, cursing look-alike old coots seems to be about at least a twenty Walt Browns wide and the ranks seem to extend back for miles into the Forbidden Forest, What a nightmare!! Walt thinks: 'For sure, that many of these axxholes would drive me insane in no time flatula... A huge 'show of strength' (endless insanity can be pretty daunting to a normal community) judging just by the amount of dust being kicked up by the endless legions of cranky geezers!
This observation made when Walt has occasionally reached a vintage point where he can look back upon the snakelike, wriggling, endless caravan of Walts -- as well as nearly boundless too in width, blending into the deep forest itself on either side of the trail or dirt road -- parade of 'vintage' variations of himself... 'No advintage in that kink of vintage... It was a baaad year...' he mumbles.
Walt mutters: 'Boy...you talk about inner city problems with the overpopulation of those poor poor people... Wait'll we see what this influx of skillions of old male coots, all minor variations of moi, of whom one is more than enough to do for any U.S. state that will let them in... And what chance to do these old axx-drxggers have in landing a decent woman????
Walt2 now comes up beside Walt1, apparently to talk as the noisy crowd of stooped and goofy old men (now, this is not elder-bashing... it's just what aged Walt himself is thinking about a band of tens of thousands of people similar to himself...) proceeds forward like a very slow weapon of Mass Disruption.
Walt, pondering...'All with my weird ideas....all with my cranky, complaining attitudes....all with my old-fashioned views on women and material possessions and potheads and....You know, actually a lot of my views mainly pxss off people my age, though, as I think of it. I have not even a shred of hatred or a single verandetta against potheads, or women (I LOVE women!) whoops.... I mean, I LIKE women and I love Edna, my long-suffering... But I have no vendattas against any group from hypocritiacs, hydrochondrians, Left-Wangers, Right-Wankers, The Far Overwrought, Bible-Bangers (I mean, the idea of beating up a great spiritual source like the Bible to make a point is just not right...A lotta nice people put a lot of stock in that Grand Old Tome of Human Truths.)..Like my wonderful Mum who borned me back in 1816 or thereaboots... she was the gentlest/sweetest/kindest soul ever....And of course we also must contend with the Jet Wetters, Corn Hollerers, the Wick Wackers, the Inn Surgents, the Crypt Crappers, the Dxck Dxnglers, the Txtty Twisters, the German Pincher Movements, the Lobotomy Tommies.....the Goofball Gaspers and the Snot-Revering Snarkers, too... Mankind is nothing but a set of special interest groups, like the Men's Dumping Corp in Skunkville that just goes around near dawn in the wee light and takes dumps on particular selected targets, leaving a friendly poem attached to each mess that somehow attempts to make honorable sense of their pre-dawn sneak attack.
Dr. Prickell, to Edna's embarrassment, immodestly changing into a fresh doctor uni in front of Walt's transformed partner (into a young blonde bomshell) after taking a shower in the Browns' bathroom: 'Edna.... Before I depart, probably never to look into your eyes again, I just want to footnote that while I was restoring you to consciousness, I also took the opportunity, via my one-of-a-kind nerve- and cell-prickling skills, to upgrade your looks to 23rd Century SuperBeauty levels. Having done that good deed, I guess I'll head off without any further ado-do...
'There will be no charge for my extra, 'charity' work, since I did it -- well, I can't say out of the goodness of my heart -- I can't even imagine what that means IF ANYTHING.... But, not to ramble, there will be no charge....other than the charge I got from treating and even may I say enhancing and improving a lovely mature woman like yourself, and the supercharge I'm getting right now, staring at you up and down, front & back, left side & right side, up...side & down...side....Are you watching the travel of my intensely beady eyes?'
'Watching?? You're staring so hard I can feel it like a creepy chill moving around my bod -- even with my eyes shuttered, or shuddered, and zipped!' responds Edna, feeling better and stronger and younger physically with each advancing moment as she lies there, but -- She shouts at the doc: ''Hey? HOLD IT! Where did this stripper bra come from that's needlessly exposing and bulging and perfecting, and may I say uplifting my hopes to be ogled as shapely?? This isn't my style, to be so in one's face!! I'm a mature woman with relaxed, easy-going organs, modest, just-hanging-out, modest, no-rush...and until now more likely to be just hanging in there as best I could! And it seems like when it comes to my butt or my legs or my bibs or any part of my biddy, you have upgraded to an almost incomprehensible, in-yer-face, hxrdxns welcomed -- and what my female friends will feel is certainly a reprehensibly traitorous, ostentatious, mate-stealing, show-off -- level!!
Dr. Prickell, smiling and nodding with understanding: 'Yes, my dear... When I revise and update and enhance a body and face, as I did yours, the patient often continues for some quirk off the mind to see or yearn for their comfortable, saggy, wrinkly, well-worn, worn-out, completely-broken-in, flat-tire-like, deflated-balloon-type, rumply-bumply largely broken-down old self, their old shape for hours afterward...But you have reacted more quickly than most to the changes, probably since you can still hear and see and smell so well... I do sympathize: The change must be too oberwhelming to accept at once....And eventually your current or perhaps future partners will no doubt joyously grow to accept you in your new form and begin to carefully study their own situation, if I haven't enhanced them, probably understandably feeling bad about it....while a whole new handsome, rich, cool bunch of admirerers will push the your dead-head friends and lovers from the past out of the way.'
A tear comes to her eye as she thinks of Walt, who apparently has absconded with his own body, feeling too inferior now to you physically -- or perhaps to prevent his own body from being changed... 'You know, people can become deeply attached to even the baggiest, saggiest, craggiest, red-flaggiest kinds of bodies, and would rather pass on a new partner even if they look and feel far better. He's probably one of those stubborn old traditionalists, as you call them.....Wanting the old me, rather than the new one!'
Dr. Shrink: 'Really?'
Meanwhile Walt, as he walks through the Forbidden Forest, the most dangerous area in Ohio or any of the other original 14 colonies or other 35+ states notes the lack of sign of any human visitation, either recent or past... He sees no remnants of bygone human visits...no empty, crushed beer or soda cans, no used cxndxms, no ripped underwear, no environmentally indigestible txmpxns, no soggy or stiff fragments of old magazines, newspapers....Well, except there are those chewed-up fragments of what looked like they might once have been parts of human or humanoid or alien skeletons........
While Walt's' freshly split personalities, a function of his extreme age and the trauma of Edna's apparent involvement and perhaps at least semi-voluntary romance with Dr. Shrinkel, or his need to have companionship even though only one human is really here...these others , Walt's companions or strangers or split-off ragments of himself banter back and forth in his mind or maybe in what seems to be reality and his shock that he really has walked into the dreaded Forbidden Forest of Ohio, so deadly and frightening that the public is almost completely uniformed about it -- because no one, from rich man to pauper -- from president to drunken vagrant wants to even think about it.....Something which Walt thought he only imaginary, until he actually saw the signs and the fences and the warnings and the total lack of any human habitation -- or even of any noticeable animal habitation... And, Thank Goodness, no insects either -- but where did they all go? Even the trees each seem to be leaning in the direction of the nearest boudary of the Forest, yearning to be able to move somehow towards freedom from Whatever or Whomever is here....
Walt1, speaking to all his fragmentary selves: 'You know, guys, we are taking our lives in our hands -- no, Walt13, I said LIVES in our hands -- by using this shortcut through the no-one-ever-returns-who-enters-Firbitten-Firrust ... I say we take a re-vote and turn back if that is the will of the group...Sure, we are still going to disperse all our fragments of core Walt from the Skunkville area...To avoid the shame of Emma's rejection after the eons of wondrous love and acceptance and good fellowship and maternal care she gave us all... Except of course Walt9 and Walt23 whom she despised! for obvious reasons!!
Walt 67B: ' But darn it, Walt1, this Walt67B, c'est moi, feels in his heart and mind that departure via this Forbidden Forest route, even if gets us down to Kentucky a few days faster.... is just asking for it, even though it currently has the majority support of the Group Conscientiouseness...'
An eerie whispy voice wavers in the wind, as the Walts suddenly cling to the nearest other Walt variant they can find:
The only human decision
regarding the Verbotten call for Fillip Foraasst
is the entry decision...Once within.......................There is no choice...
You have made the fatal, grisly choice...
Thus must face yer unimaginably horrible fate.
When it comes to a change of plan, a decision to clear out, get to safety...
We've all bonded together, tooth & nail & fiery breath so that no human has ever escaped
As you walk this forest, scouraging for morstles of susten ants, remember
You will never escape
BUT THE GOOD NEWS IS
You will perish quickly...or perhaps slowly...e.g., eaten bit by bit over the course of a year....but we have ways of reviving even the wholy digested,,, so you will be here forever, chased constantly by the cruel, devious predators...
Unless we decide to revive you and make you the Eternal Prey...eaten -- then brought back alive o be re-eaten in a more painful way...and then restored to be re-eaten again and again and again!!
Walt: Sounds like you really have a nice thing going for yerselfs! But once you have a taste, I think you'll decide that one time -- maybe one bite -- one nip -- is plenty as far as devouring me!
Walt: Your problem, not mine.
'Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha Practically every victim has tried to work that bad or poisonous taste swirl on us....'Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha 'Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha...'
Walt2: 'Guys...Let's stop fooling around....Why don't we all jest turn around and then and run back home to Mommy Edna....mebbe eat that Doctor Prxck for dinner...
Walt1, swinging around to get right into Walt2's face, but it keeps shifting away from him, so he can just see the ugly mug out of the very corner of his eye: 'You axxhole... You're a complete axxhole, you've always been one, and you'll always be one, Walt2. Thet's jest who you are, like in that great old Who song, 'Who Are You? I'm just saying: I've made our mistake by blithely bringing us this way...What's the rush? Despite all their bragging , we may still pull out of Dodge so we can think things over...Because I have something with me they didn't count on... Passed down by generations...'
Walt4: 'You mean our exceptionally small pxxxxxs?'
Walt5: 'Speak fer yerself, manliness speaks to courage and internal strength and virtue as the measure of a man, not to the length of his peanuts, presuming he were a peanut farmer like Jerry Carter, the town barber!'
And as this discussion flares out of control under the stressful circumstances, a brawl breaks out, one Walt clobbering another Walt....
Walt 13, grabbing another nearby Walt by the throat: 'What number are you, you ugly dxckhead?'
Walt 6 1/2A: 'Six and a half 'A', don't you remember, I'm one of your twin sons... So leave me go...you child molester!'
Walt 13: 'Yes, but you look jest as haggered as I do, so how can I be yer pop?
Suddenly, Walt 1 goes flying, axx over teakettle. He lays there ketching his breth, then crawls back to his feet: 'Hey, where did you go, you cowardly backstabber -- backpusher -- ankle tripper.... Speak up now! Where are you? You know I brought my revolver, just to keep me, i.e., us, safe!!'
Walt 3 speaks up, shushing Walt 2 with his hand as he does so: 'Yes, but what good is a lazy susan going to do as far as our self-protection???'
Walt 1, holding up and then revolving the lazy susan with his free hand: 'All of you who have the first name of Walt: Look into my revolver....look into my revolver.....LOOK into my REVOLVER....
Walt 3, eyes staring blankly as Walt 1 expertly spins the Lazy Susan: 'Yes, Master Walt 1... Your slightest wish is my desperately followed command!'
And so, on a scale that keeps growing as fresh new uniquely numbered Walts continue to appear out of the plasma of nowhere, recently identified by some constantly laughing pothead professors of atomic partickles at Stamford U., And the bloody Walt vs. Walt battle rages on, the Monster(s) of the Forbidden Forest are now beginning now to reconsider whatever, if any, their sinister plans were.....
Walt 7: 'Yes, the submission or even may I cautiously say 'eimination' of this guy who looks somewhat like the rest of us as well as the all of his asenine alter egos may simply not be worth the time and investment of our finite, although nearly infinite, special energies... And I would really think twice about eating them, even if they were all lying there dead and cooked and served according to my preference...Even if we had the finest, most experienced cannonball chef available!
Walt 6 1/2 B: 'Yeah... I wouldn't touch one until someone else ate one from head to foot and then didn't become sick -- other than the usual minor cannonballistic upsets -- for a week to ten days.
Walt 6 1/ A: And if the 'test case' turned green and started having bloody toadlike objects growing everywhere out of his skin on the 11th day?'
Walt 6 1/2 B: 'Yeah... That's exactly the thinking pattern that turns people into wimps and pussies. You roll the dice, loaded all the better/..and then yeh take yer chances... Look, you only go around 2-3 times in life -- we know we can only be brought back so many times before our genes get fxxxed up somehow, and then if we do come back, we wish we darn well hadn't!!'
One slavering monster conferring in the nearby woods with an electronic being whose lit up like a holiday tree from whatever wattage he's on: 'Who knows, Brother, these Walt-things might not be hypoallergenetic, we might all take ill and have to pass through the Even More Forbidden Forest of SW Pennsy to reach our own Final Corral....And in case you haven't noticed, we're not getting any younger!'
Dr. Shrinkel is about to arrive at the Brown's humble teepee on Maple Avenue in historic 14th century (once mighty Indian village) Skunkville, Ohio, as Walt and Edna rush about making final preparations. But now the doorbell of their teepee makes sound of Chirping Bird, just like the oven bell does.... but....is...there...enough...time.....left to properly garnish the meatballs....???? on one of those aggravating, idiotic cooking shows that Walt & Edna adore, trying to write down the recipes and offhand tips as they are mentioned!!... And Now Walt & Edna must STOP and hurry to the door to greet Dr. Shrinkel with the secret wurd, and hope that he will find Edna's newly created Saucy Caribbean Style Ovaltine and Chocolate Banana Filbert Delight cookies.... and that once he finds them, he also deems them delight-fool!
Of course, you all know that Dr. Shrinkel is a local phenomenon, a big, big, big hit... Not just as the esteemed doctor of his wildly growing and much talked-up Akron practice that borrows from native Indian medicine and spiritual science, and of course is widely discussed and tediously debated in the medious: newspaper, radio, smoke-signal, boobytube and even stage and screen, with plays and movies abounding about the sinister yet charming yet ex-con yet bible-quoting yet Nirvana-song-humming yet wicker-wooking self-made celeb.
Dr. Shrink (usually adding some phony cache' by tacking on an -el or -elle, as he now is trying to morph his name so his criminally lengthy crime record isn't the first thing to come up when googling his hot googler) even has reached the local pinktickle of having his own acclaimed call-in show on the Akron radio station, KRBIT as well as his new quarticle of having his own morning TV variety show five days a week, Was There a Shrinkel in the House? on Akron TV channel KNCKR.
There is a knock on the front door, and both Edna and Walt simultaneously head towards and their heads meet, but only a mild collision, at their front door, less-dizzy Walt doing the honor of swangling it open, and accidentally knocking Edna into their potted Prickly Pear tree in his reckless, but not wreckless haste.
Edna, in great pain, her rear end and back looking like a porcupine's from the Prickly Pear pricklers that she has just protracted.
'Oh...oh...oh.... And I'm in so much pain but I can't lay down, Walt... That will just drive the pricklers deeper into my inner sanctum sanctorium, where they might poisson me to dearth by distribution of the prickeliota to my vital organ!
Walt, comforting her as best he can, but also adding: 'The phrase 'poisson me to death' is a misnomer, since a poisson distribution effect is very unlikely but always kills a person near-immediately, i.e., you would be out of the game already, but in fact you're still dribbling down the quart... So saying poisson me to death is a redundancy and nullifies itself... It says that the poisson had no effect on you...was like a tasty, feel-good desert, with chocoletta and vanillin x-tract.'
Edna, crying out in poinn: 'Shuddup!..... You bewildering, doddering, nunsinse-splarting idiomt, spouting your awrful nunsense thereby making my pain all the wurst, even now my liver is...wurst, and you need a liver to live...as the name tells you. Just the sound of yer voice seeming to drive the deethespikes farther into deepest depths of privacy and identity, like they're right now lacerating my photo driver's license and my Medicain card...And, whoa....right now I can sense them all amassing nastily at the portal to my sanctorum sanctotalum
..... And if it reaches there, I will surely die or perchance worse, be totally transformulated into the thing I most despise...'
Walt, picking up the implacation: 'She's going to become me then... And then what do I do, with an extra me around? And do I have any choice as to which of the me's is ME?? So Walt is beginning to panic, as he runs to grab some medicines and salves some medicines and salves for Edna as well as hisselfs, and as well as a small pair pliers to deal with the dirty pricks that started all this uproar by coming off the Pickly Pair tree into Edna's Sanctum Sanchoticum. We hear him mutter as he digs into his jammed drawers: 'Nuts! I have only one plier... But I think she said I must have a pair or else... But why? This one should work, since it has two handles.'
And as he grabs the small pair of pliers and starts practicing opening and closing their 'Jaws of Life', he comments, to himself -- or for a broader audience including Edna -- it is unclear: 'I wander if Dr. Shrinkel can treat the biddy as well as the mind... Don't they say you must treat one in irdir ti trit thih ithir!!??... Bickisz this ild biddi rilli niids hilllip!'
But when Walt returns to the living room, panting and carrying numerous items, many of them of suspicious value now or of clearly no possible application or efficacy re the current problem, like his push lawn-mower, covered with wet grass -- or a badly fractured Hoola Hoople, its stranded ends bobbing bick 'n firth apart from one another like a seriously estranged marital pairital ....
'N he sees that most of the worst/largest/prickliest pricklers have already been cleanly removed by the methodological Dr. Shrinkel, whom, mind you, Walt assumed was a student of the mind, und nut thu buddy... But the doc is in the painstaking process of removing each pricker using his long, but thin, dartingwhippersnapper-like, cobra-like, dirting fister thin the mind kin fillow, dark-colored 'wagon' -- or one might say 'waggin' -- tongue as well as his bared reptilian teeth, then his ampidexteous, incredibly handy tung flicking the pain-inflecting devils once removed into Walt's steaming mug full of Ovaltine, from which Walt begins to absent mindedly take a drink.... Prickler after painful prickler, Dr. Shrinkel moving like a devoted, infallible de-prickulatermatron of healing & dealing.
But after the doc removes each prickler, Walt is a little bent out of shape to note that the medico also uses his snake-like, sensual tung to quickling but lovingly/lewdly licque the wounded spot of Edna's still soft, appealing, naturally nice-scented, firm, youthful skin (Walt wishes he could say the same about his!).. But then Walt re-thinks, hold it -- maybe I'm just assuming it's wrinkuled and shabby by a form of age-based stereosphinctertyping, as he heads for the bathroom mirror to inspectoratulate his fizical silf rr i.e hiz boddy)....while Edna murmurs and moans in seeming pleasure with each Dr. Prickler prickler removal success, each tender, caring lick seeming to bring her to a higher level of quiet, transcendant, innocent but potentially saucy, steamy ecstatic-cy...
She weakly but determinedly murmyrs: Doc, when yer dun takin' 'em all out....gasp gasp fxxxrt....scuzemoi.. Woodya minds puts 'em back in allagin, 'n then do whut yer doin'..... allagin.... toot!? An' then agin an' thin agin, and thin' agin...agin....agin...agin...''
Walt rationalizes, as he stands there absolving the situation, that, well 'a lick in time saves nine' and that her moans and murmurs may as well be sounds of pain as of pleasure -- or worse yet, arousal, or preferably, temporary relief: avoid excessive use: if symptoms increase, seek immediate medical assistance or call 9-1-1-P-R-IC-K-I--E-R.
Then Walt walks over and tries: 'Hey, doc! Do ya need some help? I'm pretty good at 'prickpickinandlicklerlin' mineself... What say: I'll do her front and ye can have her back, 'scept frim the waist down whin wu'll swetch sides... Holds it now... (Walt looks skyward, trying to best remember the details of phemale anatummy under thees stressinstances, finally assurting with a definitive sunding blurting: 'NO... we wun't switch un further thut...Me frontum, you backum....STARTING NOWWWWW!!'
Dr. Shrinkel, trying to ignore the seemingly daft, hopelessly helpless husband, continues doing his work on Edna with great dedication and passion, as if Edna's life depended on it,. 'Brown,' he pants between his nips and sips....: 'BROWN! FOR GOOTNESS SAKE!!! Edna's life depends on this werk being dunk properarily....Please leave us alone, PLEASE! You are not a trained doctor...you're a time-after-time proven untrained bungling idiot,,,Everyone in town knows that and pities Edna as they pity no one else, Vigils are held for her monthly...offerings at all of the churches...prayers to every variation of deity that is currently believed divinely influential in this part of Ohio or the World or the known and unknown Universe as we know it or fail to know it... Even Skunkvile's greaser bikers, 'The Skunks' Angles' for instance, are holding their rough, calloused hands, as many as they have left, praying AT THIS VERY MOMENT to their hell-raising but in some ways benign version of the devil for his most gentilest devilish assistance in this time of great need for Edna... And I may begin praying to the Hellus Angeluses for your instant destruction, as you are becoming more and more and more of a hindrance and impetigoment to her happiness and perhaps even her survival. Just the time I am wasting now expla- OH NEVER MIND!!' And he dives back into his sensitive treatment of poor, pale Edna, whose BP on the monitor attached has just dropped from 80/60 to 79/59!!!
Walt: 'Hold it, Dr. Shrinkler! No one even knew of her condition until you burst through our front door without asking! How can everyone else know when you haven't even left her sickroom yet and don't seem to have a cell phone or semaphore flags??'
Dr. Shrinkel, whom Walt has just noted has an antenna rising out of the top of his head*, perhaps explaining his ability to somehow inform
Refer to: Track 'Antenna Head' from ZZTop 2004 album Antenna
the world while he is so busy at work picking & licking every part of Edna, but especially her nutty areas, for sum reason, his trademark pink sunglasses glowing brighter and brighter as he stares more and more intensely at ever micrometer of Edna's body, then flicks an intensive glare at Walt now and then, like saying 'Back off Boogerloo!! Or this will be your Boogerloo... He hums peacefully as he works lovingly on Edna: Boogerloo, Boogerloo, when will Wult meet his Boogerloo....
Walt, as much as he would like to -- unable to take his eyes off the more and more intense PINK light beaming from Dr. Shrink's goggles...And sure 'nuff, these PINK light beams seem to be weakening Walt...creating great lassitude.... the way he feels much of the time naturally....thus he sleeps 18+ hours a day....this keeping himself out of impertinent stuff and more umpireortantly, mischief....Can Walt imagine if he instead had 18 hours awake..... the damage that he might do in his honest attempts to be helpful and loving and pro-actionative...to his loved ones......Skunkville......all his beloved readers, especially though you, the person who is reading right now....SMILE....You don't have to smile back at Walt if his personal smile JUST TO YOU, different from all the other smiles he is giving, is making you queasy, uneasy, or wheezy... And now he's throwing a BIG SMILE to all the people, animals, birds, insects, microbes, etc, who might be tuning in from Central Ohio.......and now Walt spiritually (and who knows if he's successful: this may all just possinbly be in his sick mind..but then how would I, the mentally independent author, know??) reaches out for the rest of Ohio....neighboring states....the USA..... Planet Earth!....our solar system.....our galaxy.....our universe.....the entire multi-verse...to each little atom and photon and electron, each whom he feels deserves a separate, unique name and be loved as an individual, not just a huge class of similar items..... Yes, the PINK light ensures Walt whalt he needs is a long, long, deep nap...desperately... Yes, he desperately..... needs a deep, long, hard nap....py-nap, he is sure...but where in all of tarnation is Pooky-Poot....... his nap lap bunny.....absolutely essential......
After a nap, which we readers may certainly hope is a long long one, Walt believes he may be able to fight back against the headstrong doctor. He can probably trust DR. Shrink-el, as being ethical like all doctors... Yet, didn't he see recently where Dr. Shrinkel was on Death's Row when a contingent of powerfully armed high-tech super-soldiers perhaps manufactured by Dr. Shrinkel at his high tech secret lab on 114 Buenavile Street in ESW Skunkville extricated him from his execution? Yes. He's sure that's what he saw on the Skunkville Channel Sunny 97 Evening News just a few months-weeks-days-years-decades-minutes-eons? ago...
Or was that just a story he read in Weird Fantasy magazine....And in that story, it wasn't Dr. Shrinkel anyway... It was Dr. Shrinke with just an 'e' but no 'ell'on the end. But since that story was written in 1938, couldn't he have added a letter to his name? Oh c'mon Walt.. This is reality, not some old horror magaziney.
Walt finally begins to relax and unwind a little. But he's still not very comfortable, that's for sure!
Hey, how did he -- like instantaneously -- just fade and then reappear down in his own basement, where he had recently tried to rehabilitate a bunch of weirdos like Hacksaw Jack and Fadeout and Motel Chainsaw and Pighead... No those names aren't quite right....
And why is he hearing shreds of an intense voice like Dr. Shrinkel's as well as a sweetly familiar voice like that of his beloved Edna occasionally floating down into the padlocked basement with iron bars on its small high windows?
Walt struggles to his feet amidst the clutter and the filth of his most base of all basements, muttering 'No winder I only cum down here once a dickade at mostum! So base....so gluurgghkk spllllattterrrr gag bluugchuck....(wiping off his chin and the frunt of hus shurt)... so demeaning....I mean, what's de meaning of all this crud & crap I've allowed to build up down hyar??? like it's my privit breeding ground of nauseal-inducing views and feelings....mein hellholl There must be something rutten to the core-uption in me solemio... I got tu turn uvvur a nuu leuf....it'ull c$st muh sum b$rea$d but ut us muh humun dutu tu ut lust huff purufuy thus hellhull uv a bussmint!!!! bu-bu-buh-bluhgersplat spllllattterrrr gag bluugchuck.....OMG....whut hav i wrawedt in thus beesmunt????
bu-bu-buh-bluhgersplat spllllattterrrr gag bluugchuck
Is this the end of Walt Brown, sickening himself until he literally barfs every part of his body out onto the fleur in front of him, just leaving the emplty place he once shakily stood, trying to be a man, trying to make it in this world, trying to just do at least one good deed a day, if not more, and trying not to pxss off too many recipients with his good deed for them, when it turns instead into a not-so-good dud???
Is there still hope for homeowners in today's roller derby of an ecornomy??
We'll let the pictures brief you on the setting and the situation, and then we will continue without further adoodelly-do.
Dr. Shrinke: 'That 'ado-do' line above is the kind of element that makes many of your thousands of semi-loyal followers just that... semi-loyal. You need to come down firmly on one side or the other. Is this a deadly serious story incisively laying out the trials and tribulations of older people in civilized countries... Or just a ridiculous, badly written, spontaneous garbage can of a spoof to garner quick laughs and be even more quickly forgotten....'
Walt: 'Well... I would begin by saying that...
Dr. Shrinke placing his large open hand in front of Brown's mouth and shaking his head: 'Sorry, Brown, ladies first. Edna? And also, when your true name is Edina, why are you, a quite attractive woman even now, always referred to by the drab, old-fashioned Edna name in the story? Of course, that goes for you, too, Brown... Your actual name is Waltham, not 'Walt'. These are the kinds of things that have been perturbing me when I occasionally force myself to read your seedy, needy tale just to see just how far the democracy of the world of the Internet and blogs has opened the door to endless amounts of reprehensible, mindless trash!'
Edna looks at Walt, Waltham looks back at Edina, Edina looks at Waltham...Walt looks at Dr Shrunke....
Walt: 'You're confusing us, Dr. Shrank. This kind of meeting with you comes to us as a big surprise, and we only agreed because the Powers That Beep told us to... Edina and I are of course not actually married, thus we're not accustomed to talking in a serious way to each other, because we log so many hours 'en charactere, if you catch my Dreft. Edna... remember wonderful old Dreft detergent?!''
Dr. Shrinke: 'And why say what you just mention Dreft? Are you Dreft, man? And shouldn't you be talking to me like: 'Holy Molehills & Molehumps Dr. Pinkey, yer really cornfuzalating me now wid yer questione's!'
Edna: 'No. We're playing it straight with you, Doctor. I thought Walt's first reply indicated that as well. We may be fools of a different kind, but we're not the idiotic but also compassionate and sometimes heroic fools that we play in the story. I'm sure couples much like the blog's Browns exist and can be very happy that way out there in the real world... But, yes, with us this has just been a game, driven throughout, from Word 1 to Word 1,500,000 of course by Sir Maynarde Frotham's amazing scripting.'
Dr. Shrinke, staring back and forth deeply and intently into both of the older individual's eyes, first Edna's, then Walt's, then Waltham's, then Edina's. 'You're aware that dropping your goofy facade may cost you any morsel of entertainment equity that you've ever somehow accumulated?'
Walt: 'Yes, I don't believe Skunkville would fly as high as it sores now, if we were just normal, well-adjusted, reasonably well-heeled, stable senior citizens... For you, a professional analyst, we don't mind acting as we do even in our off-blog hours.... Normal, non-goofy life takes up about 80% of our actual lives after all. And of course, we have different partners... we're not really married. It may shock you, and our audience, but I've recently come out of the closet with my old chum Bert Fartley, who used to be the main announcer, of course, for Skunkville Partly Sunny Channel 97.'
Edna: 'It's just that our realworld selves are pretty dull, at least by the standards that Maynarde has put in place with his remarkable scripting with our madcap, memorable fictional personas... Though, like any highly sophisticated niche offering, it's not for maybe the 95% of Americans who for some off-the-ball reason find it unredeemingly alien or stupid, since it is only aimed at the elite, truly discerning adults out there, the ones who are great at quickly separating the Wheatena from the Suzy Chaffstick!.'
Walt: 'Yes, Dr. Pinkeye...incidentally, I hope your pink sunglass lenses aren't highly contagious... I don't think as our disciplined, stagey, artsy normal selves, we would have any appeal to our many readers -- and for good reason! We are targeting intelligent, hard-working good-hearted, stressed-out people looking for a few minutes of mindless relaxiation, adz I wood normerarelerly say!'
Dr. Shrinke, turning at Walt with a glare: 'Cool it, Brown, or you're soon going to be a MAN OVERBOARD!! Except that we'll wait a few minutes before we sound the alarm, while Edna screams frantically in distress...maybe even dives in after you in the shark-infested waters that now surrounding us...'
Edna, shaking her head: 'I knew this sequence was much too good to be true! How I tire of the writer's goofily sinister sense of humor!'
Handsome and youthful new Skunkville writer, Maynard Frotham... Handsome, that is, excepting the Vesuvius of delicious-looking, creamy white froth pouring constantly his mouth: 'Urgk! Grurglegursplat!!'
Dr. Shrinke, using his long, seemingly expandable -- hardly shrunken! -- arms to place his full-size hands on both Walt and Edina's shoulders, even though their seats are situated perhaps 5-10 feet apart from each other: 'Now, listen folks... Don't be upset by Maynard's foaming at the mouth like he just swallowed a whole tab of Rinso! He's no Ratzo Rinso, I can promise you...!! Frotham is a brilliant new author-itarian, just like you thought... The high-priced talent who has replaced the other minimum wage lowlife axxhole high school dropout pothead pervert who has written the other 1.5 million pages of this disgraceful edifice of nonsense at the rate of 50 cents per completed, fully edited and reviewed page.
Walt, perking up a bit: 'Yes, I wondered sometimes why my lines failed to consistently demonstrate my heroic, timeless nature. And I see Mr. Frotham has joined us....But I'm glad he's wearing that froth-deflector shield and holding that huge half-filled bucket of froth beneath him to catch most of his froth before it makes the floor of your cabin cruiser slippery to the foot...'
Walt, now turning to Edna: 'You know, dear...Isn't it amazing how misleading the looks of some things can be? I mean, looking at that gallon or two of froth sloshing around, it almost looks almost like a delicious gourmet dessert for twenty doesn' it?'
Frotham finally speaks up, splattering both Edna and Walt as he does so, who quickly push their chairs back while still staying on board them, at the same time nodding in agreement or appreciation of whatever it is that Frotham is frothing.
For a second, Frotham stops frothing, and uses a towel handed to him by Dr. Shrinke to wipe off his face and the special froth-repelling shirt he is wearing...'Yes.' He states, totally normally and non-frothily. 'My frothing at the mouth is purely a form of artistic expression... Setting me apart from most other creative types. Actually, I needed to go to Mozambique and also the lost island of Ghennatallia to study under a master of frothing for seven long years to get as far as I have in conquering my rare malady and making it work for me rather than me frothing all over myself and having to change my clothes dozens of times a day. There is small mechanism implanted in my froth gland -- something that everyone has, but is inert due to evolution, in that frothers' life spans were only about a third of non-frothers. Anyhow, that mechanism facilitates my frothing and also makes sure that it is germfree, hypoallergenic, and pleasant smelling when I actually exude it from my mouth.
Edna, who actually was hit a couple of times by his earlier frothing: 'Yes. but I realized when you accidentally frothed on me that, well -- I licked it, since you're kind of cute and healthy looking. I licked it from around my lips to help clean my face... And it has an absolutely fascinating, exotic, almost intoxicating vanilla-like taste. I kin only imagine the waiting list of girl friends you must have, if only for the deliciousness of yer frothy kisses!!'
Walt, trying to re-enter the conversation: 'Yes! And do either of you remember Frothy the Gremlin, who used to be a staple on kid's TV??'
Dr. Shrinke, rising abruptly from his deck chair: 'Look! What's going on here... I planned all this to nettle the Browns, and now you're frothing up to them like they're your long-lost best friends!!! Honestly, this is really getting me down... I almost feel like jumping overboard!'
Edina: 'Yes! But Dr. Shrinke, your skipper has returned us to Skunkville Port Authority now, and can't you see we're up in drydock?? Don't jump overboard here, as you might smash yer head on the concrete below where our ship has been hoisted!!'
dr. shrinke, reeling from all these setbacks and surprises, albeit gently delivered without any desire for revenge or aggression by tghe Browns and Maynard Frotham, the writer with the foaming mouth.....
Dr. Shrinke 'omg....i feel like i'm shrinking...shrinking away... to nothing
Walt: 'Say... while we were all talking -- where did our host, Dr. Shrinke go? I hope he's alright! Maybe we were too hard on him...'
Maynard Frotham: Oh, I feel so awful....I feel like I'm going to need to foam a bucket of froth right now....' splash, splish, splatter, splunk, splink, spashasm, splutch....
Edna, handing Maynard her large purse: 'Here -- use this Maynard -- I've taken all my stuff out of it and put it in Walt's shaving kit...Walt, why did you bring your shaving kit to this meeting?? Anyhow, Maynard, Walt will buy me a new purse tomorrow... So keep the damned old thing... It's at least a couple months old... I was sick of it, you know.'
Walt, rising from his chair in a slight show of aggravation: 'Wait a second dear.... You know pocketbooks aren't birne on trees!'
Maynard, his head in the Edna's 'old' bag: 'Gurgle, gurgle, split, splat, splatter, urghk. gluckkk, erk, SPLASH....splatter...etc.
Intending to ride an elite White Elephant Bus Company (which has a near monopoly of the routes out of Skunkville Intercontinental Busport, serving North & South America as well as Antarctica, the Caribbean, North Korea, and the Bering Straights Cigarette Company headquarters on the Cape of Good Hope) to Trenton N.J. to a) visit Edna's devious and generally abrasive and self-centered Aunt Vermina, b) unwind in the spectacular sights, sounds, and culture of Trenton, with Edna garbed in an American Revolutionary uni -- often just regular clothes -- and Walt trying to fit into a British Revolutionary uni c) relive the Battle of Trenton, a key turning point in the American Resolution, and d) visit any remaining relatives of Ermal Fraze, the Trenton man who invented the amazing, if occasionally finger-lacerating poptop can back in 1959 -- to whom Edna speculates she might be related because she has NEVER ONCE ever cut her finger or hand on a poptop! She boasts: 'Us crazy Fraze relatives knows hows to pops them tops saferly!'
Walt: 'And here's the most amazingest thing, Edna: I believe that in our very own Dayton, Ohio museum, the Boon Schoft Museum of Discovery, there is the Fraze Gallery, named after the great poptop inventor, Ermal Fraze.... Perhaps there are even some examples of some of his probably bloody if they were used 'first tries' and 'original prototypes' there as well as his later more successful, much safer poptop designs! What a freakin' genius of Type: Practical... And not Type: Head Up in Sky or Type: Head up Axx!!'
Edna, excited by this notion, thinking of all the pop-top drinks of all types she has enjoyed over the years, and her possible kindred with them 'Then why go all the way to Trenton, NJ...'
Walt picks up immediately: 'YESS!! Why not instead just take the regular, passenger-filled hourly bus to Circleville, Wavering City, Full Court Pressen, London, the urbane Urbania, Xenia, the Warrior Princess City, if I recall, and finally 'every days a' Day to remember in' Dayton, where we can then greatly enjoy a visit to the Pop-Top part of the Boon Schoft Museum of Discovery! This is no Skunkville jive talk or slap-me-five talk or sting-me-five-hive-talk.,..this is for REAL!!
Edna, whuspurung: 'Und sunce yuh munch-und Circleville, Wult,,, Uh'v ulwuys wuntud tuh knu... Us Curulvull thu hum uv thu curculjurk, if yuh knu whut uh muhn??'
Walt, pulling away from Edna's whispers: 'First of all, as a female and not an ex-boy-scout or ex-horny-teenage lad: why in Good Heavens would you care!!??.... And when you whuspur durtuh thungs luk thut it's very hard for me to even understand what you're saying... which may be good, if yer being offensive in your oldladyhood! But great auntyhow! Maybe you might want to ask one of the people who happens to board or to deport from the bus at Circleville abut yer long-shut thurry.... But uhf yuh du, uh'm tuckun thut tum tu guh tuh rust ruhm und tuhk uh lung du*p! Guhd luk un yur 'rusurch'...'
Edna: 'Well, I just think that my lively curiosity is very self-flathering and normbal, and thet you ought to shew murr of it yurselves, yuh old dud, yuh uld blunk-shuuter... Yuh've becum lick un uld rusted dried txrd un the sudwulk...Wuth nuh inturust un unythung ennymur!~'
Walt, nodding: 'Yes, thank you, darling. I always appreciate your support, although I'm nuts sure what yuh said...'
In the not-that-busy, somewhat dirty and rundown Skunkville Bus Depot, Walt & Edna, who took a cab to the busport, are now trying to lug their six fairly heavy pieces of luggage from the Skunkville Bus Depot Grand Entrance to the back of the terminal, from which the Long Distance buses depart and arrive.
A sweating Walt: 'Why did we pack all of this stuff??.... Your relative in Trenton, whomever the old magpie is in terms of name, only has a small one-room apartment on the very outskirts of Trenton.... a room in a converted farmhouse in a place on the way from Trenton to the seashore!'
Edna, panting and nodding, her back aching, as she pushes forward three heavy suitcases, one at a time.... 'Wult....Can't seem to breathe right...Can't seem to catch my breast...Walt...But...stop..... complaining......please... Let's stop right here!'
Walt, his face reddened and his head and chest feeling like they're going to explode. 'I wish I hadn't forgotten to write the check for our Burial Insurance, Edna... You know, the policy we bought right after we saw that commercial on TV damning anyone who left their burial expenses to their children??'
Edna, stopped, collapsing on top of the luggage: 'Pant...pant...gasp...urghk!
Now......... I...... finally..... under...........
stand..... what the true....
cautionary meaning of the
...urghk!...pant....gasp.... word is. Walt...
We are beyond -- way...pant...
way beyond the Lugg Age...!!
Walt nods, tries to smile through the pain.
'Why....... didn't we........... just tip........
the porters.......... the eight bucks they re...........
quested to comfortably en................
sconce us on the ai...............r-conditioned b..................... us, including taking us................. on wheelchair and actually.................. wheeling us u................... p the plank on the side of the bus into our plush seats??'
Edna, spotting a porter, waves vaguely, but she it too weak to make a meaningful signal....'Oh.....nuts..........Wa........lt.............too weak.............to sig.....nal....fer.... he...........lp!'
A handsome porter then appears from a different direction. 'Hey! We can help you now with yer luggage....The luggage loading and unloading of passengers and luggage is completely free of charge for seniors.... I sure hope you weren't misled by those hop-headed fake porters who sometimes try to prey on elderly custumers outside the station!!'
And, as he finishes conveying this blessed piece of news, as Edna literally falls to the ground and grovels in front of the man with her immense gratitude, kissing his shoes, even the bottoms that have old chewing gum and perhaps even old pigeon droppings on them.... 'Oh, thank you....kisss.. thank you.....lick-lick....thank you....my son of a....different race....'
Walt: 'We should have known that those white porters couldn't never-ever be trusted!'
At the same moment the staticky, whistling bus station loud speaker system here at the Skunkville Grand Bus Depot begins to announce:
'Last chance now to board the Trenton Express bus to the capital of the Garden State, which has the following artilleranary in the order I will now read:
De arture f m Sk kvi le O o
STOP 1 Columbus Ohio-hio-io-o-bzzzzt-diiiinnngg
ST 2 Sandusky Ohio-io-o-bzzzzt-diiiinnngg-errrerrrerrrrerrrr-oinkledonkle-zzzz
OP 3 Fremont OOhio-io-o-bzzzzt-diiiinnnggkk!-errrerrrerrrrerrrr-squaaarrrrrrkkkkk!
S P 4 Lima B n Ohio-io-o-bzzzzt-diiiinnnggkk
STO Cle l d Ohio-io-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o--o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-ooooooooooooooooo-bzzzzt-diiiinnnggkk
TOP 6 Akr n Ohio-io-o-bzzzzt-dii nggkk
Announcer stops his listing of stops and we hear: 'What, Ed? What are you yellin' at me?? Oh, okay... Turn off the reverberator we use sometimes to confuse travellers so they go to the wrong place and have to buy more tickets to get back to where they wanted to be -- WHAT!! I'M STILL ON-AIR!!!????
'Oh...so so ry folks... But so many p ple tr vel by bus just be use of hose ki of ar haic, confu ng bus an ncer sound effects... Got it fixed, Willie? Good man! It reminds them of when they were young... and in love....and life w easy and full of hope and antici tion....
'So, continuing on with the itinerarency for yer bu , in o er of the bus' route.....
Parkersburg West Virginny--inny--ninny--ninny
Wheeling West Virginny--inny--ninny--ninny
Youngstown O-hi-o O-lo-o O-hi-o O-lo-o O-hi-o O-lo-o
Hagerstown Merry Land, that's right: Old Hag-gerstown, Maryland
Altoona PA, that's right fans and travellers, All-Tuna PA, home of Coward of the Sea Tuna
Annapolis Merry Land, that's right Canapolis, Iceland
Wilmington Delaware.... What did Dela W r?....Why she wore g ments made in Wilmington Del !
Dover Delaware... What did Dover wear? Dover wore Delaware, Dover say he wore what Delawear!
Toms River New Jersey...That's right, Tums River New J y...you'll be f lin' might queezy by then, if ye mecks it thet fur...and shore wishin you hed sum Tums....Tums: Proud Sp sor of the stomach-churn g Skunkvil to Tr nton ordeal....
Allentown Pa.... That's Al Lend Town P A
Brick NJ... That's right, Brick New Jersey next to last stop...All out fer Br k NJ -- when and if you get thet fur!!
AND YER FINAL DESITINSTATION, remember, slimy white Dezitin is our cr tch r sh rem y of choice on the Skunkville to Trenton bus 'dash' to st p jock r sh!!
T n NJ
Tr ton NJ
'That's correct: New ersey's proud capitoll, renton NJ!!!!
'And one last announcement, ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls over the age of 16 -- This is the end of today's Skunkville episode... That's right, to repeat: This is the end of today's Sk ville episode...
'All in favor of sto ing ri t here please raise their hands or their ba age, whichever is more c nve ient... The hands clearly have it: This episode is OVER
'One last note... As you may have heard, on this vigorous, demanding, mountane-ous roote, problems are sometimes are experienced requiring a switch of passengers et luggage' to a fresh, new, working bus. On your sidebar are the different vehicles we plan to use on this demandering route, in the see-quince which they are typically brought into play. Usually, nearly the entire roster of buses are sequentially needed to get the maturity of riders somewheres within walking or at least 'thumbing-it' distance of their destination.
Edna, handing Walt his piping hot cup of Ovaltine from their old Wendell Willkie for President tray.
'Now, I don't recall, Edna... Did Wilkie win that famous race?'
Edna, her hand on her chin once she sits down, as she sarcastically mulls: 'Or maybe it was Nanook of the North?'
Walt: 'No, my still-sharp memory, which takes a little while to warm up nowadays, just like our old Philco TV, just warmed up and then informed me it was Hairy Truman... Now there was a Tru Man, with all that hair on his chest and the back of his hands....No wonder they called him Hairy!'
Edna, giving Walt her piercing stare when he is 'way off the track'. 'I personally remember President Harry as having just a small but reassuring bit of manly foliage on his chest, just enough to know what gender he was without staring at his shorts, looking for evidence... Which the Secret Service would have stopped before it stare-ted anyway... But Hairy certainly did not have thick werewolf-like fur like you were insinuating....! Good Lands, Walt.... Sometimes I think that spare bullet that grazed your right nipple during yer wartime panic retreat went through yer brain first, leaving you with an embarrassing short deck with which to cope with the rest of your...our.... seemingly endless declining years!'
Walt: 'A short d-ck? Is that what you're now proclaiming? Trying to further dim my twilight years with a cloud of suspicion and paranoia and inferred inferiority? Oh, and occidentally, when are you going to give me a breather by going East on yer own to visit yer Auhnt Vermina, who recently contacted you via a postcard showing the dramatic skyline at nightfall of her hometown, Trenton, NJ?'
Edna: 'Hey.... I thought you were coming with me! Haven't you said that you want to visit all of the nation's capitals before you pass, including whatever is the capital of our home state of Ohio?'
Walt: 'I would think it must be Cincinnati, since they have such good pro sports teams there...or have in the past, anyway!'
Edna: 'Yes, and I remember reading that was where Ohio's first ambulance service was established, albeit a horse & buggy system with a backup of a team of strong men to use as stretcher runners if the horse & buggy was in use at another location!'
Walt: 'Yes, what a fine state of affairs we have in lovely Ohio!'
Edna: 'And I believe a relative of a friend of my extended family in Ohio, Ermal Fraze, invented the pop-top can....'
Walt nodding in appreciation: 'Wow! That's what I call a practical genius... Now, if they could just devlop a safety poptop in the 21st century, so no more drunks bleed to death by being cut by the poptop in their frenzy to open the can! Was Ermal your cousin the real inventor, or did he 'burrow' the concept from someone with deeper knowledge?'
'No, the poptop genius, as he was known, was my friend's uncle, who was also known as Ermal Fraze..since Ermal was a Fraze family name.'
Walt, really becoming interested. 'And what did you say was the Fraze family name?'
Edna and Walt relaxing with some just-made spice cookies and hearty, steaming oval-shaped mugs of Holiday Ovaltine....
Walt: 'I love that special touch of having sugary little fragments of the pumpkin rind and tiny black witches' brooms floating around amidst our usual drink of pleasure!'
Edna, smiling peacefully, waiting for the first of the Halloween visitors to arrive, this year's theme supposed to be disguising oneself as a Month of the Year.
Walt, still mulling over the Lady Auxiliary's enforced theme, and the penalties being handed out by the Auxiliary Husbands roaming the streets in costumes -- some not following the month theme themselves, so as not to arouse suspicion.
Walt: 'I do think the penalty of being held back a year in school for not being able to adequately succinctly explain how your outfit as month-related is a bit Draconian. Do you know that even Draconia, Ohio has outlawed all arbitrary, organized Halloween themes -- or special themes for any other Holiday -- saying any invasion of themic freedom as a violation of First Dementment Rights!'
Edna, nodding her head in satisfaction: 'Yes, they deserve their wretched town name for the way they let people's freedom be crushed by their rules....or maybe by the way they let everyone go hogwild and turn the night into a devilish cabal!!!'
Walt: 'But isn't Holloweiner supposed to be a 'devillish cabal -- all in fun??'
Walt, not Finnish but English, shaking his head, Edna hearing its familiar grinding, cracking sound even in the kitchen: 'On the contrarian, my dear.... They are proclamaciating that each family/trickertreater can choose their own disguise based on whatever they like... That the town cannot impose a structure on it other than decency and avoidance of hate messages, which of course just decency in other words!'
Edna: 'HUH? Aren't we supposed to hate the Devil, because he's the backer of all things evil?'
Walt: 'No, I believe are supposed to love everyone and everything, even the Devil, assuming we are not at the same time helping him to advance any of his devilish policies in doing so, assuming they truly are devilish... Now, if the devil reformed and began pushing for kindly reforms in the world, then we would have to consider again whether he should be on our shxt list forever no matter whether he reforms or becomes even more evil!'
Fortunately, this discussion, which is not going anywhere, and probably therefore shouldn't even have been reported by me, your kindly, caring writeur,,,, I know I'm going to pay for it, bigtime, now....being writer is always dangerous and usually ends up in the slimy hands of the very person deepest in the shxthole. But whatever... as someone said, maybe the Marquis de Zade, 'Life Iz Zufferingstectegroutenpustaingh.'
Hold it -- first rule -- the author should never appear in his own works, or the true author who is writing about the fictional author, all the way down the chain to you, the reader, who is causally related to all of the links in the chain I just mentioned, plus many more beyond discussion, some of them imaginary -- but those the most powerful and true.
Take a gander at Exhib-hit one... And you'll seen why Walt is fawning, but fortunately not yet foaming....
Walt: 'Welcome, ladies! Wow, I was just about to give up my job of serving the roving devils their poison, but now...I think I'll need to rethink... Yes. I WILL retain this position just for the kind of over-the-top, buxom cheer that a man needs to survive the fittest!'
Edna swings around Walt, pushing him backwards into the darker part of the living room, her hands full of treats for the retro-stylishly presumably-winter-dressed women...
Walt's voice still can be heard in the background: 'Hey... Edna...Should we really be giving them candy? Maybe we have them in to share one of our vintedge buttles of Bones' Farm Crapple Whyne?'
The rapidly deteriorating Edna has her back to Wult fur a while, while Wult heers the clink and clank and splash and stir of a drink being prepaired for his pleasure and relaxiation. He can tell when she's about to turn and bring the drink to him, and says: 'Please taste it first yerself, just to make sure it passes yer mustar...or is the toim musterd?'
Edna brings the glass to her trembling lips and then panics as the strong concocktaletion hets hur throte 'nd she 'lmost gegs 'n rutches, bit stroggles to hyde/minnimice th' sund o' hur strangle frum Wult, hoo miten bee alurm'd ett hur re-axe-shun!
Walt, hiz bick t' th' kutch'n, nunthalass crise: 'Wut in tard-nashon ezz goin' on oot tharsz? Et sunds lake muh cock'stale izz neerlie killen yuz oft 'er sumpin!'
Edna, taking mincing, careful mintzingk cucktaie weightress steps, so she isn't accused of murr drunkcanenesse... Bet her shakin' handie splitterin 'n splatterin smmp uv th' kuntints adze she putz th' drinkie dunot on th' neo-demperened tabell... 'nd thin shee becksup so quickterly, soass nut t' buthyr hur tip ixcutive hibby (if he'll stilt heven hur) thet she fulls reel hurd buckboards gansthe dinette woll, her head penetrating it by a foot or two... as via her head, her control center, she finds herself in a dark, dank, cobwebby place of seming imminent evil..
Walt graps herr drenk from th' tableau 'nd gurpsitdone een one gullupp, then gasperating, demonds: 'uuhhnnuutthherr of the saaaahhhhme!' His extending of his wwwooorrrrdddsss filling the living room with fumes that may very well be flummable and coold cause a house explozuration....everything atomized in one BIG BOOM!!!!
He hears Edna's voice, seemingly coming from within the structure of the house, almost like the house speaking through her...a muffled, garbloid housey voice, reasscuring: 'Imm owlride, Wuld... Mon hed 's just stucken dep 'n th' dinnin' ruum wullick!
See corntinues, hur voyse mufflingk freghm withint th' wull... Later gator on tuudday er temerrow, iff ' whenk yu hev a minnut 'er twoot en yer bussy dey.... Meebe if yuh feeeelz lick it or I meanz mebbe evan aghturd yerr furneshed off yurr drenke, woould you corncider, if yer stull conschious 'n ah-livened t' halp pooll me boddey 'way from the waolll, and thus extirpate me hed??'
Walt gribs his drinque greedily....'Aahhh, finally we meet... Vinylly I kin escrape frum thiz no gude louzey realality... Why deed I effer dezide nevarre to dreiank? Jess cuz eberywon in my fambully goin bick 300 yars wuz an alky 'n a nogood sodd hoot buckended up murderated ur hungularated ur drawn & quatertined.... Glug glug glug glug glug.....gag gag gag.... I gutta hild it dunn thess timey...ebben if I gutta sow or naileth my moutt shut... to hild it enn 'nd huld et dunn,.. get th' blassst, the moxxxie poxxie, the trainluscentsundance!!'
Then, there is silence... while not a darkness...everything seems so unchanged from blink to blank in his eye thet it mite as well but be durk as the caves of Hades. Somethin always the same is a zero, theenks Wult... It is null-effying itselfs by never changeen...No change, no 'x-istance'.... no impecked...
Then he feels something like a monster roaming aroundt, roarrrring insanely in his stummack, savidgely ripp-rurrin' et hiz stamuck wwaoll... And now IT is faverishly climbering uup enside hiz beck 'n cull 'nd in thru th' unlikked bick durr... Inter hess sentrall heatkawters...his Brine, sints he est a seeman....
'Edna....edna....edna....sumpin wrung in didge sitty..me furniched wants 'n feral... Sooo Ovaltine n' out to youz...luvvvvv youze...tanks for the mammaries...'
(Dully he kin hear her voicet muffled somewhar) 'WULT whut wult? muh hud ES stull stuck in DE woollLL... hus yur dey gooin....'
edna edna edna
muh hud stull stuck in dewawll... dunt leeb me nowl lik thiz...I lubs yu so mulch!! I'll met yu in hebben if'n yu pass...down by the ribber...
Tune in next episode when we'll be amazed when Walt says
udnuh udnuh ud nuh u nu
And Edna says: &*%^@#)_+/!@#$$U+=
You just durn better believe it.... That's in the next episode #1101 (Read 'em all, baby... over 'n over 'n over...it's the whey t' go to the nuxt patti levelle o' X-zistensts...baut nut reely!!! ocazionelle, detetched rether thin overdoting reeding of Saga Skunkvilla ess rekkominded to ull arr Saga Frinds by Wult & Udnuh, who sez, 'Keep a balants in yer life and yeh wunt full over as ofteren!'
The first three men pictured on the sidebar are sitting in a plush conference room at this moment, as we speak, looking out at the beautiful views of Bali available from their high perch.
Del Phillips, handsome CEO of Delphi Forums, of whom it is said once had a brief but memorable, dazzlingly romantic affair with Edna Brown, arguably the heroine of this saga, despite her advancing years, is now checking his watch and then his pulse versus the watch reading, mumbling '63BPM at 63 minutes after noon, or 1:03 PM for earth people... Excellent omen and BP score...My compliments to the Chef...just right'...
Then handsome youngish Del says more clearly: 'Dear prior leaders of this Delphi Blogopoly, is it comfortable in your view for us to start our brief meeting now? We have a number of items on our agenda for today...There were 13, to be exact...so I conceded to adding a 14th discussion involving that idiot Walt Brown just to keep us on the good side of the black cat of misfortune.... We'll try to keep that to 30 seconds or less, given his importance and the fact that it's only to avoid a possible curse of unknown proportions, although not probably larger than Brown's waist from drinking all the Ovaltine...or what his hairbrained wife Edna accidentally, and sickeningly calls 'Ovalutine!'
As he makes this brief 'opener', Del makes careful eye contact with his three progressively older gentlemen relatives of his, something he has avoided until now, fearing that if he did, the meeting would then be abruptly, spontaneously started by one of them -- without his, Del the Youngest, clear assumption of control because the meeting opening would be without his explicit approval.
'Young' Del knows from past meetings of this closeknit group that he must take and stay in control of all its knitting, to protect and advance his own hidden agendas... As well as for the peace of mind of the others, who abhor chaos....That is, if these three skeletal geezers still have functioning minds... Their brains at least half-shot or maybe a lot more by advanced age combined with their one-time edgy, partying, rich-food, high-society, martini-gorping lifestyles.
The other three men, as you of course know, are:
Delos 'Dee' Phillips, father of handsome 'Young' Del Phillips: A hands-on Dadster, slowing down with age but still active in helping to steer the company's strategy... Usually an underestimated background character as far as the media coverage of the famed blogopoly is concerned.
Delos Phillippe Forumsinzki II, grandfather of 'young' Del. Delos II is the now-feeble, ancient founder of Delphi Forums, back when the blogs were communicated around the world by the famed WNCP: The Worldwide Network of Carrier Pigeons, a precursor that ultimately led directly to the Worldwide Web as we all now know and love or hate it.
Delos II at this moment has a curious look on his mug as he tilts again to one side on his chair: Is he beginning to fall over heavily, unconscious, against the side of his chair, maybe pitching forward on his chair where his head would smash against the edge of the marble table? But then his leaning seems to terminate with a loud 'Bbrrrrrrrpppp!'...A 'wet', sloppy sound seeming somehow to emanate from the seat of his pin-striped pants... Ah, now he looks much more at ease, although as far as the others.... Their noses are in the air, looking down on his social habits or seeking some cleaner oxygen.... As Delos II's body slowly struggles to regain a more perpendickular angle vis a vis the plushly carpeted floor...
Among the group gathered, there really is no reaction, other than Delos Phillippe Forumsinzki II's above-mentioned ripping sound, to young Del's previously described call-to-order, his low-key but clear invitation to start the meeting. But after all, this is just a small family gathering, so 'Young Del' begins with...'I have some big news for both of you, unless you've already heard....'
Father Dee tilts his head and gives son Del a sharp look, while saying: 'Taking action once again without our explicit, written, full-consensus approval???!!'
Del reaches over and places a hand on Dee's forearm: 'Several comments on that, Daddy Dee... or Dad:Dee, or Daddy, if you prefer the more informal and conventional form of address...'
Del's father, Dee interrupts Del abruptly: 'Hush, son. One, I now control all the votes of the Board, so any role ambitious upstarts like you will play is purely advisory, and at my discretion. Two, I very much value your opinions, since I can think of several cases where you have politely advised me that my ideas were hare-brained... And in each case I acted on your input and it turned out you were absolutely right.... These clunkers of mine failed in test market and fortunately we avoided blowing a lot of money on them... But we could have avoided wasting even a few mill on each test marketing if I had just trusted your guidance...' (Del's father now lowers his head and shakes it back and forth, slowly, as he again takes responsibility for his sometimes foolish actions.)
Del: 'Yes... The 'test markets' cost us millions of dollars to execute.. and they saved the day... But of course I was well aware of your plans myself and of course thought I could improve them some more... but not a one of us three saw what their true Achilles' heel was. In retrospect, one looks at the ideas and says anyone with half a brain and a bit of common sense and understanding of today's sleaze and trash consumer would have known WITHOUT any testing these ideas were nice but there was not a big enough market for them...
Delos, so old he is lucky to be able to sit in on this meeting, shakes his head at the last comment, the crunching sound that his neck makes as it turns slowly, grindingly, painfully, making the other two younger men half-nauseous... But he keeps grinding his gaze back and forth between the two younger men anyway. seemingly enjoying their obvious squeamishness: 'Lead balloons (~grind~) and other tainted (~grind~) baloney appears all the inno- ha ha - vation (~grind~) ye are culpable of...!'
Just as in the picture above, 'young' Del glares into the video camera recording this meeting and says: 'What's this cameraman -- or OMG, is it camerawoman? -- doing here anyhow? S/he might be a spy for the competition for the devil's sake!!'
Walt Brown then steps out from behind the big television camera, revealing himself by taking off his platform shoes, pulling off his pigtail wig and flalse beard and ripping his 42" fake breasts out from under his grey work shirt.
More geriatric Dee, growling at Walt: 'Damn! I was just about to make a pass at you, sonny... I can't never resist those big booballees!'
Walt: 'But who's that even older....guy?....who's over there in the corner...with a loyal dog skeleton alert at his bony feet? Is he here for the meeting? And if so, is he able to participate... And if he's passed on, shouldn't he be placed in a more suitable location so he can enjoy his Eternal Reward, rather than be mouldering away in this classy conference room, making the place smell like ?? I mean, I thought Edna and I were old...!! And look at the cobwebs covering him...and why is he throwing no shadow? And don't tell me he can still move on his own...and he doesn't have a shadow, like a.... (Walt's heart sinks at the thought!)'
As if to answer Walt's question wordlessly, In a split-second, the ancient bony wreck is across the room, strangling Walt with his powerful vice-like grip around his chubby neck.... But when Walt, still feebly choking and face pale as a ghost, reopens his eyes, perceiving that he must have lost consciousness for a second or two, the skeleton is back exactly as before in his chalr in the corner... in seemingly the same exact position as before....But is there just the slightest hint of a smile in the tight skin of his gleamingly yellowish-white jaw bones now... or did Walt fail to notice that at his first quick look at him ot it?
Walt, his voice a bit hoarse from the throttling, quips: 'Boy, old Mr. Bones sure is pretty lively -- and mean -- for someone of his age and condition!'
Ancient, but ostensibly still of flesh and blood Delos Phillippe Forumsinzki I l eans over and touches Walt's hand, then pantomines a person with SSSH! finger over his closed mouth.
Del Phillips, handsome CEO of Delphi Forums, of whom it is said once had a brief but memorable and red-hot affair with Edna Brown then tries to 'break the ice' and 'relieve the fierce level of tension in the room' by casually asking Walt: 'And how is the lovely and talented Mrs. Edna Brown now, these days? Hopefully no worse for wear!'
To Walt, who has heard the rumors Edna and Del's dazzling if one-time, accidental 'affair', even angrily broaching the subject with the member of the Skunkville writing team who supposedly penned that highly-rated (i.e., lotsa readers) episode to find out if it was fact or fixation... Well, an agrieved Walt now rises and stands ominously (well, as ominously as an old half-out-of-shape pot-bellied geezer can look) directly in front of handsome Del Phillips, momentarily blocking his view of the others.
'Look, pretty boy... Is it true that you and MY devoted wife got it on at MY house while I was safely OUT OF TOWN?? I know Edna would never -- well, it is highly unlikely that she would ever, given our marriage bows... I mean at the end of the ceremony, when you bow to each other, then kiss, I'm pretty sure the spiritual decoding of that sequence is 'No Nookie on the Side: Ever!!'
Just at this epic and crucial moment, the 1.6 million words of Skunkville and its hundreds of thousands of avid readers hanging in suspense, some actually finding their head butting against the ceiling and a noose around their neck, albeit quite slackly....There is a knock on the door:
'GUARD FORCE REPORTING TO THE ROOM OF HILDA BROOMSTIQUE REGARDING HER WORRY THAT HER CAT IS ILL AND NEEDS IMMEDIATE TREATMENT BY SPECIALISTS!!'
Walt, musing, the replies: 'You know, that reminds me of when my cat Fluffball tried to off me when I was snoring with my mouth wide open by hawking a series of increasingly huge hairballs down my throat... But my army of collectible toy action figures came alive and defused her plot with affirmative action on my behalf!'
THAT'S IN THE NEXT EXCITING EPISODE OF SKUNKVILLE, SOON TO BE AVAILABLE HERE OR AT YOUR FRIENDLY NEWS AND MAGAZINE DEALER.