Kirkus reviewers compare Skunkville to work of James Joyce; total readership visits at all placements including Delphi ~ 200,000 reader visits

Fictional snapshots of the lives of iconic residents in a nondescript American town. This blog novel currently has close to 2 MILLION words served up as ~1,400 bite-sized episodes, the 2,000,000 words more than any known, easily-obtainable novel . KIRKUS REVIEWS (see review on Kirkus site) compares SKUNKVILLE to the works of literary giants James Joyce, Thomas Pynchon, and John Barth. With close to 92,000 reader/visitors to date just on this site, plus a similar readership total on other sites.


Skunkville Readers Appear in Person

'I love my Weekly Reader... Don't you love yours?'
Mr. Piggy: 'Awschum fuud ye service herein! I will have seconds and other levels of multiples.'
Lovely Miss Piggy: 'Keep it up, big boy... You're eating yer way right outa my lifet!'
Edna: 'Walt...stop eading fer a 2nd and come meet these fine young replicates that have stopped by to remind us that, sturting tooday, this is Robotic Musick Week all 'round the whirled!'

Edna Browned, shaking her head, so much so that she actually shakes the head off the Ovaltine and pear juice shake she has just prepeared for her husband, friend, lover, and arch enemy, Walt Browned.  Walt's keen eagle eye notes his detached (dessert) head sliding sleazily down his wife's armlet as an unintentional frown creases his usually jovial, love-exuding, mistake-furgifveling facet...While a look of horror crosses the expressive fron or facial areat of wife Edna's head! 

Edna had been shaking her head as she tried to complete saying these werds: 'Walt, I'm wurning you.... You slipped Fiddles and Piddles sippettes of yer shakey yesterday... To dog-hide the evidence that you didn't conzoom it all yerselfet...  And thin they both ended up getting ejectibly ill on my latest rug-weaving preject.  Plus you became dejectibly ill on my pillow after you ran like Noel Coward into our bedroom to hide your guilty lookets frum nauseating Mr. Piggy-Style wolfing!

Walt, showing an appropriate concern and even anxiety level yet with a twinkle in his eye, waves his somewhat chubbily index finger back 'n furth at his beloved:  'I wurned you sevenral times -- sevenral times!! -- nut to leave that lovely piece of Kraftwerk whar it could be spilaged...Wasn't it a rug that weaves a panorama of Autobahn drivers going at extremely high speeds?'

Edna, pouting even more.... then progressing into tears:  'And to think boo hoo  that boo hoo it was to be boo hoo yer main boo hoo burthday presid  boo hoo ent too... No present for you nowel, I gusset...Time's run out, money is short, lines are long, gas prices are high and there is a real gas shurtadge develeroping-- except frem yer reer.... Thet's one inexhaustible resource, unfartunately!'

Walt, who lubs presents of any kind as mulch as any landlubber if nut more... Supposeredly freghm all his lonely, womanless, unrewarting time at sea, 'n his unavoidable facing and battling ov sea gi-ants, 'n giant Wales, 'n mennny-peglegginged octopuspopplers as big as an oversized tourturing, exhaust-billowing 36-50-38 bussette taking 24 hours to tour the most underinterwrestling spots in depressed, appetite-dwendling East Skunkville, and his in jury from falling dun the steps due to rushing since he were lateful at his speeding ticklet hearing!!  And houndreads of other painful blows that Lifet's peeshooter has stungk him withet, most of these blows avoidable: i.e., his oan durn fult like many of ust in the reading oddience, making h'our pane that muchet mur renemagritteable....Like Life itself cancelling Its supscriction after being a Weekly Reader fer decadents...And that remindles Walt of how he wuz the unly kid who didn't resieve the Weakly Readler in gramma'school, 'cauz he wuz too poorer, from spinding all monny givun him on snicks and gurly magelzeens!!

But all of a sudden, Walt stops short and cuts off the phony tears as if he had ne'er been sadden in his hole lifet.  Becuz he jest remembered thet this is the annuhoi epitsode where reel reeders of Skunkville suddenly are culled up to center stage to tek a bowel!  Wow, he thinkets, how silfish of mineselfet to ferget these very reeders thet urr my lifeblud... Not uv curse in a vampirishic sense -- heavens node!!  But withutt some fins, Ednih ind I wood jist shrivvel ip shrivelled nullbuddies, I ventilated gusset. 

Edna now chimes up, appearing out of nowhere with a huge tray of cookies....perhaps enuff for the whole reading audience to have enuff to get sick on if they wunted to go that fur... Or jest enuffle to have thet warm, secure, cookieish feeling in thar bellies if they took of them moderately... Like Skunkville's Moderator, Jimmie Jacoby... A guy whom we never mentioned, but who handles all of the FTF interface with the Outside Werld while the rest of us 'teem memblerers' stay isolated in our Creative Studdio 369 days a quadruble leaf pyear....  But enjoyelling our werk so mulchet it seems jest like reel life, as a fischlerman might sayaroonie.  There have even been rumulors of Skunkville characters 'crossing the line' and for brief moments, slipping over the line into reality, jest to see if it's all that it's made out to be, to see if it's werth trying to jemp overto...


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