Being the daily adventures of Mark Trail, rugged journalist and vigilante. Forever 32, when confronted by somebody doing his animal friends wrong, Mark has but one solution: The Right Fist 'O Justice.
Saturday, September 27, 2008
So the newspaper has an article about Mark Trail's future Letter to the Editors of The Many Miles Away Times Forum. That's quick turn around, and it answers one important question (If Mark Trail makes a declarative statement in the forest, will a journalist be there to hear it?), but not why your boss had to take her precious time away from applying make-up, baking cookies, and talking to her girlfriends on the phone to look at your stupid newspaper, Charlie.
This guy must be the Diet Cherry Chocolate Dr. Pepper of Mark Trail henchmen, because when it comes to meeting his nefarious overlord, he has to wait two hours. TWO HOURS! Worse yet? His boss is a woman. A WOMAN!
Odds are, Mark has his way with this fellow in the span of a panel and doesn't pause to realize that Cherry got herself a job as a secretary at a nature-hating firm.
I imagine that the press conference Mark calls will go something like this...
People of Earth: In this era of rapid economic downturn, where jobs are fleeing the country like Irishmen from potato famine, where financial giants are sinking like ships with iceberg-sized holes, and where Presidential debates are put on hold indefinitely like the day I finally lose my virginity, please, stop and consider the plight of the town of Many Miles Away, specifically as it relates to the drying up of their wetland/grassland areas!
Stop walking away! *ahem* There are people; devious, mustachioed people; who would see our wetlands drained away! Oh, they may have grand intentions, and they may want to build buildings that will house places that will create jobs that will give you money to shop, buy, and provide for your family, but their choice of facial hair clearly indicates that they are evil and are out to destroy our very way of life!
Take, for instance, the plight of poor Pop! The mustache man drained away his water, leaving him with a pathetic puddle! What will happen to him? What will happen to his wife? His granddaughter? His granddaughter's pet raccoon, who stole my wallet, my watch, and my identity?
With a message like that, how could anybody be in favor of the technological terror lying in wait for Many Miles Away?
It's a mystery of the world: Why oh why would a corporation drain away a wetland/grassland (which one is it, Pop?).
Thanks to the magic of multiple panels, the mystery is solved for us. The man in charge of the project has a mustache, which, in Mark Trail, makes you evil. Evil means that you hate nature. Evil means that you have a "me first, animals dead last" mentality. A mustache means that you've got a problem: An outdoor writer with one hell of a right hook.
Does "other families" refer to that doe (a deer, a female deer) and her fawn? If so, note the lack of concern on their cute faces. Did you notice? No? That's because they're not concerned, old man.
Sure, Mark may have taken a picture of the last remaining puddle in Many Miles Away, but sir, your wetlands still appear to be wet. Wet and thriving. Look at the green! Look at it! Sure there's dead trees, but that's the wilderness, and things die there.
The facts of life, motherfucker: Do you know them?
What was previously a storyline about a cute, cuddly, rabid theif who was diverting the water supply for his marijuana patch has become a boring, dry strip about zoning codes and land developers. Things will only be made good if Mark punches a Senator. A U.S. Senator. State ones don't count.
How adorable! That little girl has taught her pet raccoon to steal things specifically from Mark Trail!
What the fuck kind of pet is a raccoon, anyhow? They have diseases. They go through garbage like Heathcliff goes through garbage. Not a good pet, even if you're stuck in a wetland. Clearly, the grandparents are conspiring to kill Pamela with kindness. A raccoon is just a few steps away from a smallpox infested blanket.
Edit: Upon further review, Pamela looks like a boy with a mullet. Hmmm...
Those poor animals literally have no water left. None. Like, if those two ducks took a sip from that puddle, there'd be no more water. You'd think that in a circumstance like that, the plants in the surrounding area would be a lot less marsh-y, but then, maybe they're the problem.
Yeah! Those damn plants, sucking up all of our water and CO2, and for what? So that they can go AWOL and take even more water, like some water destroying Audrey II? No! Hell no! Mark...lay waste to those plants with your fists!
Or plot to save them, you fucking traitor. Sure, pod-grandparent seems awfully convincing, what with his promises of animals saved and people grateful, but he consorts with garbage eating coons!
Besides, Mark, what are you going to do...punch through to the water table?
Mark Trail carries out an entire conversation with himself until Doctor Davis interrupts. As punishment, Doctor Davis will be locked in a small, pink doghouse until Mark returns from his wetland adventure.
Which he's never going to go on because he's suddenly interested in Cherry's feelings. Honestly, Mark, when did you become so soft? Were you going to not go if Cherry minded?
Grow a pair, Mark Trail. The next time I see you, you'd better be dumping Cherry's limp body in the wetlands and finding a place to bury a bloody hatchet.
With that spit curl and the ability to hear a man's voice just before it reaches the earpiece of his phone (not to mention the Right Fist O' Justice), Mark Trail must be an alter ego of Superman.
If that's the case, I certainly understand why he'd cheat on Lois Lane (a little bit of super sperm goes a long way), but why do it with some frump with a Jerri curl when there's all kinds of extraterrestrial poon that Lois will never hear about?
This new kid is super thick, because the situation was explained to her yesterday. Granted, now it's being explained to her by an old man with a raccoon in his lap, which is exponentially badass, but the draw of the other mentor doesn't account for her stupidity.
Of course Rusty is fine with coming back early. Look at him: gaunt, weary, wafer thin. Mark Trail clearly forgot to feed him. Still, we all learned a valuable lesson. Stay away from Kelly Welly. She's got VD. It's about time Rusty and Mark were taught about the birds and the bees.
Hi. Due to a very busy first few weeks of school, I haven't been around. My own friends tell me that they don't read this, and I'm leery of Google's tracker thing, so I'm not exactly sure if, well, anybody reads this.
In case there are a few trailheads out there though, everything is updated, from here to the post below.
Check them out and tell me what you think. Or tell me to stop. I can take a hint.
Really, the nerve of that woman to want to continue to work in such a dangerous environment after an accident that saw nothing happen! She should be in the kitchen this instant, baking forgiveness pies.
Kelly Welly, grateful for her rescue, starts to suck on Mark's face. And I mean she sucks face. Look at that...poor Mark is like a long strand of spaghetti, waiting to be devoured between the lips of a known adulteress. Mark has no idea how to respond, either. Kissing is his Kryptonite! Cherry's mood ring material shirt tells the score though - she's so pissed that it goes from red to blue.
I thought that the animal to the left in the first panel was a dinosaur for some reason, but, it turns out that it's just a donkey. They gave Moss the slow animal in hopes that their man-generated rock slide would kill him.