A mind trip unlike any other. The wild adventures of humble, easy-going small-town characters in a small nondescript American town, including those of a diverse, ever-changing, weird cast of friends and acquaintances, young and old. This amiably outlandish, often irreverent, R-rated tale is now 4,021 pages long and contains almost 900 episodes. Begun on Sept. 26, 2010, it is now, according to some sources the longest novel ever written and published in English, recently counted at 1,209,390 (1.2 Million) words .... Just in the past 2+ years, at this site and the Skunkville thread at CNN/SI, the Saga has received 126,077 reader/visitors. Kirkus Reviews said of Skunkville Saga, Vol. 1 Saga of the Lost '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'.
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The conversation shown in our first two pictures continues, as Dr. Derrierre takes a comfortable chair in Mayor Grafte's lushly if not tastefully appointed office...
Mayor Grafte: 'Yes, I've heard about your terrific kicking toe, and how you somehow blast footballs up people's axxholes while they hang upside down on a football goal post maybe 30 yards away and miraculously their hemorrhoids are found to have disappeared, that is, after you send an athletic search party to chase after their naked bodies after they leap off the goalpost and run away at a superhuman, agony-fueled pace, screeching in pain, the football still jammed deep into their bunghole...'
Dr. Derrierre, a calm, cool man to say the least, smiles slightly and shrugs: 'A pretty accurate description overall, although the football, if it lodged even momentarily in their rectum, usually falls out when they madly untangle themselves from the goalpost and jump courageously to the ground, with nothing on but a wide open (in the back) lightweight surgical gown.... even in the dead of winter! Then, as you say, the therapeutic pain that is overwhelming them, but is a certain sign of their recovery, motivates even the most unathletic, and sometimes even crippled patients to take off at a pace which would break the four minute mile....which of course has been broken many times since the 1950's and Roger Bannister, so that's not such a big deal... But in some cases, we believe that a few especially athletic patients, motivated by the adrenalin caused by the incredible burst of agony, have broken the 3 minute mile.... But since no one could keep up with them , as they ran over hill and dale, through swamps, right across six lane highways without looking to avoid the cars and trucks....No one could possibly measured their speed accurately... the circumstances were too chaotic for such fine precision measurement as would be required by the World Olympic Committee, headquartered, as you know, on Mount Olympus.'
'Of course, we have Mount GRUNT-O right here, which is probably every bit as fabulous a mountain as Mount Olympus,' brags Mayor Grafte, showing a picture of the ledge at the top, where the local mountain sheep often gambol, to Dr. Derrierre. 'It used to be called Mount Felicity, but after Walt and Edna Brown made it more widely famous by making a television commercial for GRUNT-O there, aka The Instant Bowel Evacuator, where Walt is hit by the urge so quickly after taking a dose that he leans his bare butt over the edge..... But too far, and over he went, while the GRUNT-O camera crew took fantastic, unbelievable action footage of how GRUNT-O even works like a charm where you're plummeting upside down to certain death on the boulders hundreds of feet below!'
Dr. Derrierre, a bit taken aback by that incredible story: 'But I just saw Brown yesterday, and he seemed fine!'
Mayor Grafte, shaking his head, always hating when people question his purity and honesty. 'Yes, that's true...but only because of the tremendous jet-propulsive like force of the GRUNT-O fired exhaust fuel, poop in this case, offsetting the effects of gravity. If you don't believe me, go look at the graphic exhibit of the incident, shown in a series of huge color photos of extraordinary quality snapped by Edna, and now in the plush GRUNT-O Exhibit Hall at the Skunkville Museum, as she felt obliged to document his probable demise for the Frisky Life Insurance Company!'
Dr. Derrierre is shaking his head now, hit by too many oddball factoids at once: ;The Frisky Life Insurance Company.... That name makes no sense.... Mayor, I know you're one for the straight-faced practical joke, so...'
The Mayor reaches into his drawer with this comment and pulls out a loaded revolver. How do we know it's loaded? Because we're writing this story, and know every fxckin' detail of everything going on, because we are almost like a deity in this fake world, which we claim is real as can be within its own cramped, claustrophobic confines.
Dr. Derrierre, a man of great calmness, slowy raises his hands to discourage Mayor Grafte from pulling the trigger.... But he does anyway, and 45 caliber bullet goes whizzing right by Dr. Derrierre's ear and into the forehead of a picture of Phoebe Grafte, Mayor Grafte's homely wife, whom he has been trying to quietly get rid of for decades... to no avail, due to his bumbling incompetence and nauseating, almost psychotic fear of seeing spurting blood.
Derrierre, calmly: 'Hand me the weapon, Mayor Grafte, before you hurt yourself. You really need to take some lessons on how to handle weapons -- weapon safety training!'
The Mayor, his killing urge now completely gone after his misfire, nods and shakily hands Claude the weapon, even following the proper etiquette of handing it over butt first.
'Butt first, eh?' Dr. Derrierre says approvingly as he thanks him for giving up the firearm.
'But first, what, doctor? What we were here to discuss, anyway. My memory isn't at all what it used to be. Maybe you need to kick a football off my head?'
Dr. Derrierre smiles hungrily: 'Yes, I was just thinking the same thing... And at close range too, for maximum improvement in your cognitive functioning. Your cognitive functioning would be normal for a centenarian, but I doubt you're that old, or do you just look younger than you really are?'
'No, doctor, I was a Rotarian until they kicked me out for spending the money from most of our fund-raisers on the nags. I was just doing it to build up the pot for the good causes, but Lady Luck must have had other ideas....Like some new clothes for herself.'
Dr. Derrierre's expression now shifts again, into a doctorly look of great concern as he contemplates Mayor Grafte from several angles, shifting his head position, or moving his body in the chair to do so...
Suddenly Mayor Grafte starts becoming fidgety and anxious-looking, finally asking: 'Doctor... Is that the evil eye that you are now beaming at me, to uncover all my sins and mistakes and weaknesses as a mayor, a husband, a father, hold it -- am I a father? (PAUSE) Yes, yes, several times, including twice with my wife. One is like my wife and studying for the priesthood, and the other is unfortunately for him and my loving wife, more like me. I believe that I have the genetic Triple-X-Rated chromosones.'
Dr. Derrierre looks at him dismissively: 'You need to come up with a different excuse -- only women are subject to the syndrome to which you refer, which usually just affects their height, making them somewhat taller, rather than attracting them to be porn stars or to be attracted to a life of crime... Like the one that certain civil servants lead.'
After the interchange shown in the picture, the beautiful lady scoops up NBv2, and stuffs him in a large shopping bag she happens to have with her.
NBv2 is tired from his night chasing bad guys, and is realizing he is not as strong nor as clever, nor even as committed, as the original NB2. Already, his resolve to stick to his job is slipping. Yet he IS the original NB2, carrying his memories ever since he was constructed in Devil Doll's secret lab.
But what has happened to his iron resolve... his total selflessness? Is it because of his silly, less-functional physical form? Or is this an actual progression of the psyche of NB2... After all his dangerous, violent adventures, he is suffering from "Burn Out'... It would explain why he preferred NBv2's ineffectual, laughable form.
But who is going to take his role? Will Devil Doll build another NB2 from the template he already has, or try to get his hands on NBv2 so he can reprogram him to make him again what he once was...or is it in his best interests to have a less potent NB2, given that the time may come when they may be at odds? Does Devil Doll want to remove forever a potential adversary with the strength and determination of the original NB2?
All NBv2 knows is that he just wants to crawl into bed with his lovely friend and stay there forever... In other words, she has stolen his Super Hero Mojo.... Or he has readily given it up... or a combination.
NBv2 FAILURE. ONLY WANT GIRL. WHO LOOK LIKE. LADY GAGA. NBv2 ONLY. HUMAN. NOT SUPER. HERO. DESPITE. SUPER POW. ERS.
His pretty friend has been listening to his monologue, thinking: 'He probably doesn't even realize he is thinking out loud. He probably doesn't realize that I have been designed, programmed by CREATURE X to sap, to defuse the motivation of any and all NB Brand robots, even the original NB2.... So that perhaps NBv2 or NB2 himself may actually help the UNKIND take over the world, enslave all its citizens, and then sell the property, living and inanimate, including You, the hardy reader of today's tale, you know who you are, hopefully I don't have to tell you -- to the RECYCLERS, who are about to take over the Earth....With his pretty new friend as one of their facilitators! However, to avoid legal liabilities, we must further assert that these evil plans are in no way reflective of the real-world Lady Gaga, who as everyone knows is a remarkably caring, charitable person.'
It is at this point, with his pretty friend in the other room, talking to Creature X on the viewscreen, that the little dinky pointy headed numbnut-looking, stupid jerk-off of a doll begins.... to change?? He seems to be growing somehow, and becoming much more muscular... his form morphing more into the athletic weightlifter type physique associatied with the original NB2. How can this be happening? Where is the immense energy required for such a massive transformulation coming from?? Certainly, several nuclear reactors would have to be going full steam, and in a Code Red state to cause this kind of metamorphosis!! Things may blow sky high as a result, taking Skunkville and the entirety of the NW quadrant of the SE quadrant of Ohio with it! Friends living in that area, please check your local news... But since this is probably a completely fictional history, occurring in a fictional universe, you probably have nothing to worry about -- unless you live in that fictional alternative universe but still are somehow receiving our feed for Earth Prime....
Have you ever personally met, not considering any Skunkville Saga Local, Regional, National, Global or Multi-Global Conventions you have attended, with pathetic costumed fans trying to role play Walt Brown, or Devil Doll, or NB2, or Handsome Bob Handsome, or even Blonde Linda or Brunette Jill, Edna Brown, Coroner Stiffe, Mayor Grafte, Bumpkus of the Bozo Bar, Hayfield, Wheatfield, Cornfield, or Cheapfield? How about voluptuous Avery or her sister Beverly, or DogMan, ex right-hand man to Devil Doll, or his lovely Italian wife Gina, or Melrovian recovering cannibal, the giant, 8 foot tall, 500 pound Dr. CanDuu... or Fred and Odora Skunkley, or the their skunk-human hybrid kids. Any indigenous Weenipoo Indians, including most importantly Chief Weenipoo? Rance Plinter, old-time radio announcer still trying to hang on in the TV era, or Benny Buntman and his Buntmanalieres, the studio orchestra of Skunkville Windy with Rain Later Channel 97?? Bert Fartley or his new incarnation, the ripped, raw, randy, rambunctious Blake Fargo? How about increasingly demented Lawyer Reuben Cole of Cole's Slaw or his poor secretary Margot. The Normalsen or Dinkleton families? Joe Jerkov, one-time most popular entertainer in Skunkville? Fiddles, the nasty old daschhund? Hemorrhoid Field Goal kicker extraordinaire Dr. Derrierre? Reverend Wifleballe or associate Pastor Penelope? Persimmon Gathright? Nucks Neiber? Station owner Mr, Blathuskprefite? Dom Dellos Philippe Forumsynski I or II?
No, none of them ring a bell in terms of real life, but you may have read about them in these pages. That's fine. You're safe, as is your world, from possible Skunkville Universe Encroachment. Have you recently had some Ovaltine in any form? Yes, a few of you? Listen, as long as you answered no to all of the above, you're okay... And can continue with your Ovaltine habit.
None of them... none of them even rings the faintest bell?? Good.
But hold it --- while I was ramling with you -- OMG!!! -- the remnants of that new NB2 doll are in a million tiny pieces as if it stepped on a landmine...,.But sitting in the midst of the debris is none other than what appears --- what could be -- what I believe actually is -- the bulking, hulking, no-nonsense, terse, business-only REAL OLDE ORIGINAL NB2!!!
NB2, the bed sagging under his massive weight. LADY NO NO. WHAT SAYIN. ABOUT 'UNKIND'. ABOUT RE. CYCLERS. NB2. NEED. TO. KNOW. START, TALKIN. OR. NB2 REMOVE BRAIN. ONE YANK. DOWNLOAD. INFO HIMSELF. KAP. ISH? GIVE YOU. 5 SECONDS. BEFORE PULL OFF. ALL HAIR. OPEN CRANIUM. FOR NB2. SLOPPY INFO DOWNLOAD.
The pretty lady laughs, whips off her wig, and throws it NB2's tense face. 'Happy, baby?'
BEND OVER. HEAD IN MY HAND. NB2. UNSCREW TOP. THEN THINGS. GO DARK FOR WHILE. BUT. MAY DECIDE. TO LET YOU. HAVE BRAIN BACK. DEPEND ON WHAT. I FIN. D.
The story will now pick up where the picture captions left off....
Walt: 'Well, I'm mainly upset about distressing all my cacti friends. I wonder if I should let a couple in as spokescacti for their group?'
Edna, beginning to fade into almost nothing: 'Why, sure, go ahead Walt...It makes no difference to me...these days I can always be a Rider on the Storm... any storm imaginable. There are some distinct merits to being completely intangible...'
Walt: 'Thank goodness you occasionally can solidify enough for us to make some pretty good lovin'!!'
Edna waves her finger 'No', back and forth: 'I make you think or imagine I've solidified...when actually, that can never happen again...until you join me... If you're allowed to join me. Inside sources Up Here have indicated that you'll probably be headed for a much warmer, more densely crowded paradise, hopefully like Fort Lauderdale during Spring Break...but chances are the girls won't be as pretty and may have horns and tails!!'
Walt, frustrated: 'Everybody's trying to ruin my fun nowadays! And look, the cacti on the south side of our house have actually pushed hard enough that they've lifted that side of the house off the foundation -- Look, can't you see their feet and even some of their knees as they keep pushing it higher??'
Edna: 'Well, they were extremely upset the way the cacti detectives, Joe and Frank, were portrayed in the last episode. They said these two so-called cacti officials spoke and behaved in a lowly, gutter-ball, non-cactus like way.'
Walt: 'Yes, the characterizations of Joe and Frank Cactus in that episode were a little rough 'n tumble, agreed. It was just fiction, though, Edna. Can't they tell the difference?'
Edna: 'Yes, they can -- and that's why they were pricked off... That someone would deliberately mis-describe cactus geltleman as the opposite of what they're really like!'
Walt: 'You know, I have an idea that will probably be a good thing for you and our beloved house... I'm going out there, and try to reason with them... And if that fails...'
Edna, familiar with Walt's negotiating 'skils': 'IF?? WHAT'S PLAN B??'
Walt: 'Run like hell....Maybe jump in the Skunkville Harbor... I don't believe cacti can swim... It's worth a try anyhow... I know they can't run very fast.'
Skunkville, Ohio... A place like any other place....Some nice spots...some okay spots...some downright shxtty, dangerous spots that nice people need to avoid. But what if you live there... in the bad spots? Then you got a problem. Not my problem. I don't live there. But, then again, maybe still my problem... I have to patrol there.
I work with NBv2 and the Skunkville PD and the humans of Skunkville and the righteous Cacti Brethern and Sistern to keep the streets of Skunkville safe. Not just the nice streets. Not just the streets where the rich people live. But all the streets in the town. The ones with rats and thugs and potholes that are littered with smelly trash.
I'm a detective for the Skunkville Police. I work the Night Watch for SKPD. My name is Joe Cactus. My Partner's name is Frank Cactus. The boss is a human life form, Captain Irv Grafte, brother of the shifty Mayor Grafte.
It was 9:37 PM on Friday night, May 17, 2013 in Skunkville. We were on Fignut Street, I'd just gone across the street to the Exxo station. The owner there, Ed Exxo, lets me take a dxmp in his filthy customer restroom if I'm about to explode from eating a large bowl of chili at The House of Chili; and sometimes he'll even let me jxrk off in there, if I've just seen a hot chick on the street and feel like I'm about to explode with desire and frustration. He understands that side of me... but he doesn't go so far as to supply any dirty pictures or magazines to help me out, though, he's a refutable businessman, trying to become reputable, legit instead. He's just not that type of a guy, he's clean cut despite all the grease beneath his black nails. He's willing to help out a regular guy who really needs relief through no fault of his own, but he's not for promoting perverts, not for prostatelytizing a scummy lifestyle, depite his dirty nails.
I did my dirty work at the Exxo and then came back out onto the foggy street, feeling wasted from the hormone drain.
My parter Frank Cactus commented: 'Feelin' a little wasted, Joe? I mean from the hormone drain... You know, that incredible, yucky, washed out feeling that for some reason is a glow if you're on top of a bxbe, but is a bad trip if you're a solo pilot riding the weiner express....'
'Yep. Makes me feel old, maybe ten, maybe 15 years older than I am... And I ain't gettin' any younger these days, Frank. Have you noticed? Things take a lot out of me, a lot more than they used to. But at least I got the monkey off my back. For a little whiile.'
'A little while, Joe? How little?'
'Maybe a day or two if I'm real lucky and careful where I focus my attention. Depends on who we pass on the street. Might only be good for ten minutes, too. If the right wrong stuff comes by. In a tight skirt, open top. And I forget to turn away and stare at your ugly mug to keep me feeling bored, unexcited, stagnant, normal...'
'You got it bad, Joe. Bad. You gotta get a wife. Like mine. Never go hungry. Never out in the cold. The door is always open. There's always a lot cookin' in her oven....It's warm, comfortable inside. You can take your time relaxing, waiting for the hot cookies to come. Not rush things too much. No knocking over the lamp by the couch or the bed from everything rocking and banging.'
'Maybe. Maybe you're right, Frank. But not your wife. I would rather do it myself. In the scummy Exxo men's room...'
'I thought we were partners, Joe. Stood up for each other.'
'We are. We do!'
'That means standin' up for my wife. I mean, at least saying she's hot or mebbe luke warm. But instead you seem to be sayin' even lookin' at her makes you want to barf.'
'You're jumpin' to conclusions, Frank. I never said she makes me barf -- I mean looking at her. She's a fine gal, has a good clean look, like a '54 Ford that's got mebbe 50,000 miles, one the owner has taken care of...most of the time... So slap me five. Or at least three.'
'Joe, you're forgettin' somethin'.'
'We're cacti... Slapping five or even just three can get our hands all stuck together...'
'You know, I think I see that wimpy new NBv2 doll chasin' after someone about a block and a half ahead of us, Frank...'
'Yeah, yeah, stop pointing like a crazy man... I see NBv2 also ... and I also a victim lying, twitching on the wet pavement maybe three quarter block up, between us and the NBv2 chase of the culprit...'
'I got eyes, Frank. You don't have to be like Mel Allen, announce every detail. This isn't radio, this isn't TV. Life is a 3D medium -- and we don't even have to wear those shxtty 3-D glasses to see it properly.'
'Joe, do you want to tag onto the chase, while I minister to the dying victim, give him his last rights'.... maybe his last lefts, too?'
'You numbskull, those are last rites, not rights like in a prize fight...'
'What's your choice -- chase or comfort....while you pump for some dying information from the victim...'
'Let's both pump, Frank...neither of us can catch up to those other two speedsters....besides, he's another block or two ahead of us now since we've been debating what to do... We'll never catch him now... and if we try, one of us might get another coronary. '
'Yeah, Joe. I know I shouldn't say this 'cause they're our sponsor... But I'm really beginning to think it could be those Chesterfields, Joe... Could be the smokes.'
'Yeah, you're right. Let's comfort the victim and give him a smoke if he's still breathing... Guys always enjoy that last fag.'
'Then the three of all us will all enjoy our fags and the hell with NBv2 and the assailant. Hey -- look at that -- way ahead of us -- some girl in a topcoat just jumped out and blocked the assailant -- and he went flyin' into a big ugly dumspter... Probably be a lot of shxt in there Joe... Be hard to work his way out with both of them there to kick him back in if he tries...'
'What's this town comin' to, anyway. Frank?'
'I'm not sure I get you Joe...'
'Pretty dollies nailing the assailant that a super-powered robot can't catch....'
'Yep. I see what you mean. The world has changed, Joe. We better get used to it. Because there's probably a whole new shxtload more of change about to be dumped on us.'
Walt, lying on ground, soaked, miserable, hurt: 'Please fellows... would you mind stoppin' yer endless chat and start helpin' poor old me? I got hit on the noggin by thet guy...and not only am I all wet and dirty and he has my wallet, but...'
'But what, pal... Spit it out: We're the police... we're here to help...'
'Well -- I don't think I can remember who I am.... Even though I recognize you two guys from all the years I followed your true adventures on the radio and then the TV...'
'Makes me think of somethin'...' muses Frank.
'What's that, partner,' replies Joe...
'Yeah, tell us, then get me asap to a hospital,' comments Walt.
'I wonder what will be the thing that replaces TV???'
Joe and Walt look at each other, shocked and bewildered: 'Replaces TV? How could that ever happen???'
Frank: 'Well, while we wait here for you to either croak or get loaded on the hospital wagon, why don't you fill us in on what happened.'
Walt: 'That extra effort to do that could affect my chances of coming through. I think I'll keep me peace until I feel better.'
Joe, taking his cell phone: 'Let's call the sickwagon and tell 'em to skip this stop. The guy croaked -- or maybe we say he got up and walked away, he was just fakin' us, pullin' our legs.'
Frank: 'I'm with you. A guy who ain't the sharin' type don't deserve no deluxe ride to the critical care unit.'
Walt: 'Okay, if I tell you a little, will you make sure they's hurries ups?'
Frank: 'Whaddya think Joe... can we trust this senior citizen to spill some tasty beans?'
Joe: 'Look, let's give him a try. If we don't like his song we'll just pick him up and toss him over the railing here, into the deep, dark, swirling, putrid Skunkville River...'
Walt: 'I already took a bath today, officers. I'll give you what you need, so you'll be dyin' for more, and kickin' yourself for ever thinking of dishonoring your badge by heavin' me to feed our local storm drain sharks.'
Joe: 'Better start singin' now, then, before we switch to a different channel or throw the radio overboard...'
Walt: 'I hear you, loud and clear, boys who seem almost as tired and old as me, actually. You both need to retire soon, first off. But beside that, I believe I live over on Maple Avenue.... I'll point out the spot... Where's you're wheels? I can fill you in while you transport me homeward...'
Frank: 'Where's that beautiful broad who helped NBv2 to subdue those two losers?'
Walt: 'I'll get to thet...in due time. And who said there was two losers... unless you mean you two... heh heh...... Unnngghhhh!!!!! Oh man, you just booted my scrxtxm...hard! Those matching hobnailed boots with the bidness suit you're wearing really did some damage. How am I going to explain my diminished performance to the wife??'
In his new, 4-foot tall, doll-like form, NB2v2 has resumed patrolling Skunkville 24/7.
As he walks the rain-slicked lonely streets at 3 AM, he muses. WHY NB2v2. WANT NEW. IDENTITY. DIFFERENT. FROM OLD.
WHY CHO. OSE. SILLY. CHILDLIKE. UNTHREATENING. IM. AGE.
But these minor worries go completely out of NB2v2's head when he sees an older man, lying moaning (but he's really moaning, not lying about his misery... his moaning is too sincere to be lying moaning) in the middle of the rainy street... and a possible mugger running away in the foggier distance...
'Fxck off, you mechanical meddler. pant pant This is my wallet in my hand... pant pant That old man you saw lying back there attacked me. pant pant Knocked me down.... pant pant Why not go arrest him, you foolish stupid looking dolly pant pant robot? Leave honest pant pant pant citizens alone.'
WHY OLD MAN HEAD BLOODY. YOURS JUST. SWEATY. NB2v2 MUST PULL. YOU OVER. YOU MUST SHOW. NBv2 YOUR. SKUNKVILLE. WALKING. LIC. ENSE.
Instead, the young man speeds up, gripping the old man's fat wallet close to his side, not wanting NB2v2 to see it. 'Let's see pant pant how fast you can go, Baby Toy...You stupid pant pant baby doll....What are you pant pant going to do to me, give pant pant me soft hugs until I choke to pant death on my pant own vomit because you're so pant cute and pant lovable pant pant pant phew!?'
NB2v2 SHOW YOU WHAT DO. IN MOMENT. WISH. NEVER ASK.
Every time the young man looks behind he and NB2v2, his face grows more pale, and more enraged at the same time. 'And why are those pant pant rrrrp! stupid cacti running after us??... There must be hundreds of those pant pant rrrrp! gag hazardous prickly jerks on our tail. Why don't you turn pant rrrrp! gag urghk around and do something about the real threat to pantpantpant our town???'
NBV2: YOU AFRAID. OF PRICKS?
Not yours, you fxckin' dweeb, but the millions of pant rrrrp! gag urghk prickers on those cactiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii!!!!!!!!....
And with the sound of 'i' in the air the young man goes flying through the cool night air into a terrible smelling open dumpster!
NBv2: NBv2 PUT ON. BRAKE. WHY BAD KID GO. FLYING THRU AIR. INTO STINKY DUMP. STER.
An unusually beautiful, dressed up, stylish young lady steps out of the shadows: 'I saw you were having trouble. So I decided to help you out, cute 4 foot tall dolly.... May I pick you up and hold you? I love dollies, the bigger, the better...up to a point. And look at your sweet soft Robin Hood capped point... Male dollies are so much nicer, and gentler, and politer than men!'
NBv2: 'BY ALL MEAN. PICK UP. SOONER. BETTER. OK TO SQUEEZE DOLL. UNIT ANY WAY. THAT PLEASES. YOU. AGAINST ANY PART. OY BODY. NB2 VERY. TOLERANT OF. BEAUTIFUL SQUEE. ZERS. READER. ANYONE. SQUEEZE YOUR. SOFTNESS. TO. DAY? '
The Lady reaches down and easily picks up the large but lightweight doll. 'Well, may I first pick you and give you a big hug, Mr. Cute Dollie?'
And so the beautiful Princess of the Night picks up the lightweight NBv2 unit and presses him hard against her.... While the hundreds of cacti surround them, looking on in awe... except for a few who are trying to assist the beaten-up old man...without pricking him too much...
Soft, cute, four foot tall NB2 MiniDoll: 'OK. GUY. LIS. SEN. UP'
The gruff, but soft-hearted Scruffy, squirming annoyedly in his chair, 'Speak up, you little pointy-headed geek...I for one can't hear a mumble that yer whisperin'!'
Walt: 'Scruffy.... I just noticed there's a microphone and stand over in the corner, probably from one of the recent weddings executed in this room....Should I let this new little Sweetpea NB2 stand on my chair or my lap, and chatter and giggle into the mike?'
Scruffy: 'No!! Consarn it!!! This being is supposed to be protecting our town from criminals, and hostile armies, and alien hordes -- and worst of all, the biggest problem: OURSELVES!! How can he intimidate anyone if he needs a mike to be heard from ten feet away....!?!?'
The NB2 Minidoll raises his right pointing finger a slight fraction of an inch, and Scruffy suddenly finds himself rising rapidly and soon pinned to the ornate ceiling 30 feet above, gasping for air.
NB2+ Minidoll: 'SIZE NOT. EVERYHING. MR. SCRUFFY. TALK. SOFTLY. CARRY BIG. POWER SUPPLY.'
Then he slowly lowers his finger and Scruffy floats back and forth, like a fat human leaf, ever so gently, back into his chair, from which he immediately rises, face reddened...'Now I've gotta barf, from motion sickness, you dirty little prxck!! I gotta run.'
NB2+ Minidoll: 'BEFORE. YOU RUN. NB2 MINI. DO REMOTE....MASSAGE. TO MAKE YOU. FEEL. BETTER....'
NB2+ Minidoll points at Scruffy's stomach and makes some slow, reassuring, relaxing movements... The rest of the 'audience' begins to doze off almost immediately, while Scruffy growls: 'Hold it! I'm okay now... I think it was just the shock to my civilized, manly sensitivities of having that stupid-looking little talking doll push me around like I was nuthin'!'
NB2 Minidoll: 'YES. NB2 MINIDOLL FOUND OFFENSIVE. BY 23%. OF TESTED. SO. NB2+ NOW COME. IN VARIOUS MOODS. SHAPES. SIZES. TAKE LOOK. AT RANGE OF CHOICE. IN NEW SPRING LINE. ASSORTMENT OF NB2+. OPTIONS. REMEMBER THAT NB2 POWERS REMAIN SAME. REGARDLESS OF.... EXTERIOR STYLING.'
Scruffy, his hand to his ear: 'I haven't heard half of what you said, dollie... But does the volume of your voice change with the model chosen?'
Abruptly, NB2 converts into the large ferocious 'Intimidator+' styling, and roars raggedly, like a ragged jagged voice grunge metal rocker, the sound reverberating in the listener's brains: 'YeSsS It DuZzZz....YeSsS It DuZzZz'...YeSsS It DuZzZz....YeSsS It DuZzZz....YeSsS It DuZzZz....YeSsS It DuZzZz.....
YeSsS It DuZzZz!!!!!!!!!!!!!'
Everyone is now holding their hands to their ears, except the monster who roared it, who is laughing his large cojones off at the distress of the group.
Edna's painfully beautiful ghost: 'But NB2, isn't this change in your looks going to confuse the townspeople?..... I don't mean the dearly departed like me, who are hard to upset, since we're hardly even here to begin with....But the flesh and blood types...'
YeSsS It WilllzZzZ!!!!!!!!!!!!!'
'Mebbe good they worry about meeeeeee... then they'll stay straight in line...suck up to me...untils I barf on them...can't stand wimps you know... like you fxckin' peepholes frinstance!!!'
Hilda raises her hand, Edna's question breaking the ice: 'When we are alone together... if we are alone together....as NB2's old beau....in an intimate setting... will I be able to pick which NB version with whom I will xxxx?'
Walt interjects: 'I don't think we're going to have an army of highly divergent NB2s... That could create it's own headaches, to say the least... What if they go to war with each others??!! The cute quiet little NB2 is just saying we need to pick which version we want...'
Soft Pointy-Head NB2 tumbles over like an acrobat, then jumps up on Walt's lap: 'YOU HAVE GOOD HEAD. ON SENILE. SHOULDER. WHY NOT LEADER. OF TOWN. ALL THESE. YEARS.
Ghostly Edna can't avoid an ethereal giggle at that concept...'Little NB2, it takes him half the morning just to get dressed... To remember which goes where!'
A few mutters from the reading audience, who of course are also present in the room for all to see and touch, in whatever state of dress or undress they may be, that is for anyone actually physically in the room or who is virtually in the room by a mechanism like the Mystical Eye found at Spencer Gifts. For those low-tech few who are still just trying to visualize this morass simply via words who don't, we're bringing all you other active readers like you right here in the center of all the action, at our own expense, using the New Reverse Mystical Eye....Why right at this very moment, we can see the virtual arrival of Marie Flox of Beanville, CA, along with Oscar Diddlerre of New York City, KS, Topo Jiggley, a female, haling from Deliverance, VA, Franz Krantz of Oklahoma City, OH, Oliver Crispe III of New York City, Ont., the irrepressible Jewel Frimp of Euphoria, Alabarkansas, our most loyal long-term reader, and, fo course, portly Herman Sagg of Akron: 'My heavens, what a question!' 'Quel impertinento?' 'What relevance does this have to the safety of the town?' 'I wonder which one is her first pick...?' 'Of the ones I've seen, I think I'd go with the Star Ranger Model for sure, for sure....
Let's mike this new group for a secondo: ' 'Star Ranger??? Are you crazy, girl?? What about the NB2 punk?' 'As a gay reader, I think NB2 Buff has to be considered....,' 'As a lesbian reader, I would say Hilda would be my first choice...' 'No fair!! That's not one of the NB2 Options... That's his ex-girl-friend!' 'When did you start being the editor of this blog?' 'Shut up, you xxxxxx!!' 'You shut up, you xxxxx xxxx xxxxxxxxxxxxx!!' SMACK! WHACK!! CRACK!!! CRASSSSSSHHHHH!!! UGGGGGHHHHH!!! OHHHHMYYYYY!!!!
Scruffy, really annoyed, picks up the house phone; 'I want these Mystical Eye devices turned off immediately in this room, all virtual guests to leave no matter how they got here, and I never want them any of these newcomers in this building again!! DO YOU HEAR ME: NEVER IN THIS BUILDING AGAIN!!
Scruffy uses a huge handkerchief to mop the perspiration off his forehead and soaking pits: 'It's rough enough to have a discussion among this diverse group of town leaders without having people eavesdropping from all over the world, and from outside our own dimension even. We know Skunkville readership is much higher outside the dimension where Skunkville actually exists here in Ohio....People in our version of Ohio already know all about Skunkville, been there, seen that, and don't find it that interesting any more...Plus their Ohio town is probably pretty much like our hokey place....'
'Pointed-Head Doll-Like NB2': 'LIKE TO PUT TOPIC. ON TABLE. READER, HOW YOUR TOPIC. TODAY. PLEASE WRITE. ME. NEED YOUR IN. PUT. ALSO. WHO DECIDE. WHICH NB2 VERSION. VISIBLE. TO PUBLIC. VERY CONFUSING. IF ONE DAY NB2 ME. NEXT DAY, ANDROID. NEXT DAY 3000 AD, NEXT DAY SUPER-BUFF. NEXT DAY, STAR-RANGER.
nb2 punk: I say nb2s draw lot. lot winner. that nb2 only nb2. until he fxck up. bad. or get wiped. squashed. smithereened. sunk to DJ locker.
NB2 Newt: What someone 'messes up'. Mean? Easy to point finger. harder to point. toward happiness. prosterity. NB2 Newt honest man. speaks truth. only.
Scruffy: 'Hey, little dick.'
Pointy Head Doll NB2: 'yes. sir. mr. scruf---
Scruffy: 'Clam it, you member of slowtalkers of America. But you say you got all that power..... Then get all of you and the other pretenders to the throne of the great old original NB2 out of here. Right now.... Vamoose!!'
Scruffy turns to his non-NB2 colleagues for support, for an indication he didn't make an ass of himself. But they seem lost in thought. And when he turns his head back around and turns up his hearing aid, he realizes they all NB2s are gone and the room is silent, as each person ponders what just occurred......
in the middle of this wonderful get-together of Mamma Gooma, Walt, ghostly, gorgeous Edna, Hilda, and Scruffy, there is a soft knock on the door... so soft and tenuous that only ghostly Edna perceives it.
Edna, transparent in her beauty: 'There is someone, a beneficial presence, a strong beneficial presence at your door, Mamma.
Mamma Gooma, nods gently: 'Yes, I'm glad you confirmed my perception, Edna....But the knock was so faint, so tentative.... Maybe one of the hotel workers accidentally brushed against the door?'
Scruffy shakes his head: 'No, couldn't be. Only people with the highest security code are allowed on this floor.'
Walt rises, noting: 'Well, I might as well see who's here....And who knocks so gently...'
Mamma nods in approval, but also forms a psychic shield around Walt in case the visitor proves to be dangerous....Although she senses not danger, but rather a warm feeling of security emanating from outside the door. Could it be a trick? A trap? She senses not.
Walt opens the door a crack, then swings it open, muttering, 'What the fxck?? Excuse me: what in the world... A human sized doll?'
The 'Doll' says very softly: 'HELLO EVERYONE. IT IS NB2. IN NEW FORM. GENTLER. SOFTER. SAFER. MORE SENSITIVE.'
Mamma Gooma smiles: 'What a clever joke....'
Scruffy shakes his head: 'No, couldn't be. Only people with the highest security code are allowed on this floor. I am going to destroy it with the pocket-pal disintegrator gun that Devil Doll gave me for my birthday... It's probably a walking bomb or something...The zone sensors indicates whatever it is, is not alive, at least as we would define 'alive', so why take a chance.' He raises the gun and levels it at the visitor, who walks softly into the room anyway, as if so naive or confident it is oblivious of the deadly risk it is facing..'
Walt, who had already risen from his chair, slowly but assuredly walks towards the newcomer, meanwhile blocking Scruffy's line of fire, noting: 'Well, I might as well see how our new visitor responds to a friendly Skunkville greeting!'
Edna remains calm, noting in her beautiful, echoing ghostly whisper: 'It is NB2, trying on a new form.'
NB2: 'CORRECT. EDNA. I WANT TO. PROJECT. GENTLER IMAGE. WHILE STILL HAVE. ALL ORIGINAL POWERS. PLUS. NEW ONES. READER. HAVE YOU. DEVELOPED ANY. NEW POW. ERS LATELY?'
Scruffy, directing his comment to his lover, Mamma Gooma: 'Gee. He made a big change in his looks, but he still speaks in that broken robot English...'
Mamma: 'I remember not so long ago, Don Scruffy, when you spoke in a similar way.'
Walt bravely goes over and offers his hand to the visitor. Who gives him a big hug, and while doing so, for demonstration purposes, rises slowly (both of them) to the 30 foot ceiling, then slowly back to the carpet.
Mamma Gooma graciously offers Walt a comfortable chair as he explains the reasons for his unscheduled visit to Mamma's lavish quarters within the Scruffiplex.
Walt staring at the chair to which she has led him: 'Thank you... It looks quite comfy... And, before I sit, I would like to ask you still another favor... Allowing my dearly departed, neo-ghostly wife Edna to sit in on the meeting as well...'
A look of surprise crosses Mamma's face, also a look of appreciation: 'Of course. Has she been waiting outside?'
'Matter of fact, she has...'
Mamma, staring at the ornate main door to her quarters, 'I bid you enter, if it pleases you, dear ghost of beloved Edna!'
And a ghostly, beautiful female human form effortlessly passes through the heavy door that secures Mamma Gooma's quarters.
'Oh my, my....' Mamma blurts, at a loss for words... 'No wonder you married her, Mr. Walt!'
Walt, pulling up a chair next to him for Edna to sit: 'Yes. I was very, very fortunate that the other guys in my 1913 high school class were so unusually homely....You know that if I was clearly the handsomest of the bunch, just how ugly they were as individuals and as a group....The poor girls...although they were not so....never mind, I digress, Mamma Dearest... Although I'm sure some of the boys and girls became better looking with growth and maturity -- I mean when I look at Bert Fartley -- now going by the handle of Blake Fargo -- since he's been rejuvenated by some natural process...I wonder if I should have done more about my own appearance before it finally became too late...? Worked out more?....Used moisturizers and taken vitamins and suffered ice splashes?... Brrrr.'
Walt feels Edna's ghostly lips lightly touch his forehead and cheek -- an intense chill of fear mixed with adoration and excitement passes through him...Well, if beautiful Edna finds him acceptable looking, who cares about anyone else??
Mamma: 'Yes, it is true, the spirit form of a goodly person is dazzling in its beauty, jast as the spirit form of even the most physically gorgeous evil-leaning person can be an abomination to view for more than a few seconds.'
Walt, rubbing his hands together nervously: 'Boy oh boy... I wonder where that leaves me... I certainly have been no angel... I've regularly been cranky, and bossy, and selfish, and lustful, and above all a know-it-all and a bore...Just ask my beautiful spirit wife as she graces this room...'
Mamma: 'Hush! I know your spirit, Walt. Do not judge yourself harshly. I consider you the epitome of a good man! Not perfect... but I believe perfection itself can be a deadly flaw. It is all very mysterious, but I sense your soul is safe, and beautiful -- or, handsome, if you like...buff, maybe.'
Walt turns to the empty chair that he thinks houses Edna -- he can feel her attractive presence, but sees nothing, and it doesn't even seem to be in that chair, but somewhere else. He looks towards the ceiling, commenting....
'I guess it's normal that you can't actually see a dearly departed...'
Edna's voice, but perfected, beautiful, deeper, milder, smoother, more fullly packed: 'That's because you are looking at the wrong chair, an empty one... Turn the other way.....Slowly though.'
'OMG!!' Walt cries out..... The front of my pants are being torn asunder by something huge trying to rip through them like a raging mushroom...'
Mamma Gooma: 'Let's try to keep this at least somewhat fambily friendly, Walter!'
'Yes maam,' he responds, his legs tightly together, his face scrunched up and pointed towards the ceiling in beseechment. 'Incidentally, Mamma, do you know if beseechment is a word?'
Scruffy himself, the richest man by far in the remote NW corner of the SE quadrant of Ohio, enters and comments: 'It was legal the last time I used it in Scrapple...I got 32 points for it given the Double Letter scores and so forth. A couple of weeks ago. I was playing a half-potted Bumpkus, as well as the simulacra of the dear-departed Gorilla Monsoon, one time President of the WWF, and Hilda, NB2's morose old girl friend. You know, she blames herself for the destruction of NB2.... But I can't believe a human could have done that kind of destruction.'
The partially present and visible Edna, quietly: 'But NB2 is fine.... This I see clearly.....That molting and disintegration of his unit is simply a natural occurrence, programmed by Devil Doll himself, When a scheduled update is occurring, it is something he must learn to tolerate...Which he has: I have spoken with him. NB2 is already feeling better, and may be 'back on the job', new and improved, by next week! For some reason, maybe because this was his first major update, NB2 did not understand what was happening to him....apparently for some reason he had not been informed by Devil Doll of this uncomfortable stage he must go through every time when he is being updated....'
Walt, shaking his head in amazement, 'Maybe DD didn't want us 'worrying about it' -- I can never, ever remember NB2 ever worrying at all about himself. But this is great, fabulous news for Skunkville and each every one of its citizens!
Hilda, breaking into a sob: 'And to think I mistreated and abandoned NB2 when he began to physically fall apart... I must never go near him again, I am so ashamed! Incidentally, I just placed my play on the Scrapple board...adding L-E-S-S to end of the word H-E-A-R-T that was already there...I don't know how I thought of that: it's a pretty tricky move for me, and helps me reach a Double Word Score space!! '
MORE TO COME
Walt sits there on the chair that Edna used as her spot for sewing and knitting and TV watching and designing her skimpy lingerie products that she would model for the local gentlemen, to entice them to buy items from her lingerie 'line'.... and also for pure titillation purposes, as well, not that she was that big in the chest area.
It's been a while since he threw the stuffed version of what had been their dog for decades, Fiddles, into the woods that night after the abortive gala at the Scruffiplex. However, some local predator -- or maybe even one of the naughtier kids -- keeps returning Fiddles' chewed up carcass to his back door, as some kind of joke or sick prank. Then ringing the back doorbell and running away.
Yes, Walt thinks, after so long a period of stability, at least as far as life's fundamentals, now things Are changing in a decisive, major way. 'Pretty soon I'll be gone too,' he knows. 'No one, nothing lasts forever... Or if they do, it is in a different way than we're accustomed to thinking.'
Even Easy Chair Ed is gone... He's abandoned Walt, enticed to be part of the exotic furniture collection at the Grand Mansion of Dom Dellos Phillippe Forumsynzki II, current owner of Delphi Forums, ever since Dom Dellos Phillippe Forumsynzki I has passed him the reins. The reins? What is Delphi Forums? A harness racing nag?
Of course, Walt is only alone if he chooses to be. There is still NB2's broken head on his mantle, bringing back fine memories of the best policeman and order-keeper the city ever had. And he has been invited by Chief Weenipoo to come join the Weenipoo tribe, but Walt worries that his lumbago would become worse if he slept outside in a tent very much.
Then Blake Fargo, the rejuvenated version of his dear old friend Bert Fartley, has invited Walt to stay with him and his lovely partner Carrie on Cemetery Mountain, overlooking the booming, ever-growing city of Skunkville nestled below them on the Skunkville Plain, near the Skunkville Harbor, that leads under certain conditions to the Intracontinental Ocean, or even to the Underground River Network that serves travellers all around the world who would rather travel underground in a boat than above ground in a plane.
Blake/Bert and Carrie have also offered to visit Walt regularly... split their time between their mountain hideout and the town if need be.
But even though he has spoken enough now with Blake to be convinced he really truly is Bert somehow rejuvenated (purportedly by the rich deposit of the rare element eternia that is found in the ground at the top of the mountain)....he is no longer an old man like Walt -- his thoughts and interests are of a 25 year old!
Blonde Linda and Brunette Jill, partly because it would be a 'win-win' in their minds to get out of their sleazy condo, have offered to move in with Walt to take care of ALL HIS NEEDS, no matter how strange or even kinky, in his 'declining years'.
'My declining years haven't started yet, kids!' Walt exclaims outloud to himself in his lonely home, reliving his conversations. 'I'll be sure to let you know when they do!'
But of all the options, he is most enticed by living with those two crazy kids (age 30+)...
Handsome Bob Hansom, at loose ends ever since he closed his business, Handsome Bob Hansom's Handsome Bob Hansom Handsome Auto Parts and Supply, has offered to move in and keep Walt company too... With his non-stop reminisences of the good old days when he was still in business....Or of when he and Walt worked together at the Bumpkus House when Bumpkus closed the Bozo Bar for a couple of years to try the rehab business instead, recruiting many of his old lushes to be his patients.
'I can't stand too much talk about a particular subject, like auto parts, or alcohol -- two things that don't interest me at all....' He says outloud.
'Linda and Jill might be my best bet. Those two are endless fun, and given their never-ending financial problems, I could be doing them a service. But they would have to follow house rules here about cleaning up after themselves and so forth...Fat chance of that.'
Walt has been offered housing by about everyone whose anyone in town. Scruffy, who owns most of the luxury lodging accomodations in the area, has offered him a master suite, exactly the same as the middle-aged lovenest that he and the spiritual, sexy, prophetic pysychic Momma Gooma co-habitate.
'But Walt,' in his mind he hears Edna's voice from the kitchen. 'Why don't you just stay on here with me? It will be no different than before, but only you will be able to see me and hear me...Do you want some of the Ovaltine I'm fixing?'
Walt: 'Edna.... I feel so bad for you. Why don't you go ahead and dive into the afterlife... It sounds pretty neat the way you described it, a real mind-blower....I hate to have you staying around here just because you're worried about me, spending all your time making phantom Ovaltine....which I admit somehow tastes and satisfies as good or better than the real stuff!'
The swinging door from the kitchen to the living room seems to swing open a bit as she enters the room?...He can't see her with his eyes, but he can feel her presence with his mind, which is very similar.
Walt: 'Well, I know it sounds pretty lame, but I really don't want to be with anyone more than I want to be with you. I don't want to leave this earth yet unless I have to, but I want to stay with you as my partner....Even though I can't quite see you with my eyes, but I can see you just as sharply and clearly as ever with my mind. When you don't want to be here with me any more, maybe I'll go with you to the Next Place, wherever that is.'
Edna: 'You know, in my ghostly form, I have been visiting people we cared about -- and I'm very concerned about our old friend Avery. She still lives in that 3rd floor apartment that lacks steps...she has to shinny up and down a rope when she comes home and goes to work. And she continues to get visits from Devil Doll. I think she kind of likes his attention and finds him fascinating because of his great power and influence, as well as his genius mind, but has no romantic interest whatsoever...OMG, let's hope not... I mean, looks arren't everything -- but neither are power and wealth... As we two well know!
Walt: 'Gee, I sure hope she has no romantic interest in him! He's like two feet tall and rusty and ugly as can be and she is statuesque and and incredibly shapely and lovely.... But she's never been the same since she and Hayfield broke up. Or was it Wheatfield?'
'Hayfield. Yes, every day she mourns his loss. But she no longer even knows where he is. When she rejected him, he became despondent and disappeared...returned again, maybe once or twice, rather briefly, then disappeared again....'
Margot has walked out of the office to be in the fresh May breeze and hopefully clear her mind, udderly exasperated at the behavior of her boss Reuben Cole, with whom she was in love... but who is becoming stranger and stranger. I mean, his compulsive mxsxurxaxtxox problem was curious and disconcerting enough... but --
She looks up at where their office is located in the tall office building, which has a roof from which one can see for 50 miles in every direction, even see the modern skyline of Akron if the smoke and pollution from the tire works and other factories aren't too bad.
And, to her complete amazement, she spots her boss, lawyer Reuben, who should know all about liability issues and responsibility to clients, climbing the barebones, unprotected utility and fire escape ladder that goes to the roof, his tie flapping wildly in the wind, right below him Danielle Dinkleton, who is holding his free hand as he slowly climbs the ladder... Her brother Daniel Dinkleton following below her, pretending to be reaching to 'goose' her as he her skirt flaps wildly in the breeze.
'Danny!!! How are you going to feel if I fall off this building and die because of your goosing gestures,' she screams against the wind, which is much stronger here than on the ground.
Reuben continues to cling tightly to Danielle's hand while he agilely and strongly advances upward, crying back: 'Every day when Margot is out of the office on an errand of business or pleasure, I make this climb to the even windier top. It's very good for my psyche, despite the minor risk factor.... and after all, I'm sure the grass and bushes below us are pretty safe....and the macadam in the road is inherently soft, especially as it becomes warmer..'
Danielle nods, then turns her head downwards to try to communicate with Danny, 'This guy is completely out of his fxxxin' mind. I'm going to wrench my hand away from him, and then we can hurry back down and escape...'
Daniel, shaking his wind blown head in disagreement. 'He's just a real man... a man who lives life to the hilt... to the very top of the hilt!! His hilt is...'
Danielle: 'Shutup, you axxhole, about his 'hilt'...Besides, dummy, the hilt isn't the sword, it's what keeps your hand from sliding off the sword-handle and onto the sharp sword itself during battle...It also blocks thrusts, I think, anyhow... And, if I survive, I am going to report every detail of your and your pal Cole's behavior to Dad and Mom, as well as to Dinkus and Dinka (their beloved dog and cat).... every freakin' detail... You need to be put away in the same place where they put him.....
Then Danielle suddenly screams and almost loses her grip! 'Eeeeeeeeeeeee!!' She cries as a hawk, riding the strong wind, veers right at her face with his hooked beak open, and then turns away at the last moment.
Daniel yells: 'Your face scared him off... good work!'
Danielle: 'No, you axxhole, it was probably my perfume was not appealing to his hawkly tastes...' She looks up, her other arm still being held by Reuben, constantly pulling her higher... But he is oblivious to their conversation, straining to reach the roof as quickly as possible..... Readers, you don't think he plans on 'doing his thing' off the edge of the roof, do you?
No, that could never happen in a family-oriented, no-core (as opposed to soft and hard core) medium like the holesome, fambily-orientalled Skunkville Saga!!
Then again, Danny and Danny are both in their late teens.... We'll have to check with our lawyers... But besides that, these people will do what they do... We simply won't report anything that goes beyond ---
Danielle screams as Reuben Cole gently squeezes her hand then releases it... as the heavy body of Reuben Cole, once one of the most fabled young lawyers in the North Central part of the South Western section of Ohio, goes plummeting downward, brushing against her briefly on its way, falling silently out of the sky, quickly going by Danny as well, whose head pivots to catch the gruesome end result of the fall.
Then thinking the better of it, he turns his eyes in the other direction and starts climbing up the cold metal utility ladder ever faster... as does Danielle, as well...
But before they go much farther, they hear a loud, sickening.....
Both Dinklekids, dazed and light-headed from the experience, stop right where they are and hug the ladder, happy to be alive, no matter how cold and windy and howling and dizzying it is up here.
They each are mainly conscious of their own labored breathing as well as the brilliance of the day, and the coldness of the metal ladder on which they depend and are holding onto like a mother....Yeah right, more like a mother xxxxer
Gradually, gradually, they regain a bit of composure, a bit of a feeling of safety.... It's not much farther to the top.... OR, they could go back down to Cole's wide open picture window... That would be an easy downward climb, except for maybe too much downward momentum if they rushed....It's actually safer to go up than down...unless you are exhausted and your arms and legs are becoming too weak to hold you...
'HEY!! WHAT ARE YOU GUYS DOING??? LET GO AND LET GRAVITY!!' A spirited Reuben Cole cries from far below.... I'm calling Margot right now on the cell, to have her bring down some lunch so we four can all eat outside and enjoy the great Spring weather.... BUT COME DOWN ONE AT A TIME....SO YOU DON'T COLLIDE...'
Danielle finally has the nerve to peak down below, and there in fact is Cole, hands on hips, windblown, smiling, standing on a pile of SAFE-FALL 'MATTRESSES', a brand new product of Devil Doll's High Time Enterprises....As in 'It's HIGH TIME that someone created a firm but shock-absorbing, fear-absorbing, intoxicating-to-land-on substance that can be used to 'catch' suicides or pleasure jumpers or people who accidentally fall off buildings as tall as 2,000 feet or out of windows or off mountains. I eventually see SAFE-FALL being used as the material of choice in urban areas with tall buildings.... It works as both as a safe, much more comfortable sidewalk product and also as a street surface that can handle 12-wheelers, while still saving people falling out of the sky and minimizing the impact of vehicular accidents when they occur!! They call it, 'a smart road material', as it is programmed to be intelligent and responsive to the special and diverse needs of the world around it... It will even give a quarter or two to a bum begging for change!
'Drivers say driving on SAFE-FALL is safer and far more pleasant than driving on macadam... Plus think of the advantage to passengers in accidents who are thrown from vehicles... The possibilties of this product are indeed, limitless... according to the mysterious Devil Doll, the world's richest being!
'So starting with ladies first -- especially a pretty one like Danielle -- Let Go and Let Devil Doll!! Let's see your best, prettiest. most tempting swam dive!'
COMING VERY SOON TO SKUNKVILLE SAGA -- MOMENTOUS, IRREVERSIBLE THINGS REALLY BEGIN TO HAPPEN FOR THE FIRST TIME AFTER A 4,000+ PAGE WARMUP OF ESSENTIALLY HEAVILY HYPED TEASES & NON-EVENTS -- NO MORE EMPTY PROMISES!! YOU'LL SEE WHAT WE MEAN VERY SOON...!