We should have known better than to assume that Thorpiverse was going to wrap this up any time soon. Like, what was Mrs. Brown Haired Counselor going to do, shoot Alexa cold dead with a Magnum and award Valedictorian to Chris by default? Gotta hand it to Thorpiverse. Cut that Gordian Knot and get baseball started sometime this week. Wouldn’t put it past Thorpiverse, but no, odds are this’ll get dragged out to The Bitter End. Being a Husker Du fan, they had a CD called The Living End. Both concepts have one song in common. It’s Not Funny Anymore. Put the gun away, ma’am, and let us continue to our exercise in boredom.
You would assume that Gil is getting the field ready for baseball, ditto Mimi in softball. I’d hate to know Gil is under the desk eavesdropping and making sure things are kosher. Wouldn’t want another Teddy incident. If you want to report to Dr. File Cabinet Instead of a Grandfather Clock in her Living Room Pearl that there is no need to flunk out and suspend an honor student for academic dirty pool, you gotta lay low behind the hydrangea plant and ensure academia is on the level. No more hot SAT booklets sold over the border for drugs and cash. Milford High School has an image to protect.
And once this scenario FINALLY lays to rest, there’ll be Gil at the ball park with his Milford jacket and cap on. Like he’s been sitting in the dugout for days, waiting for the cameras to roll. Then he’ll recite all the players he has coming back. Thank God this strip is alloted 3 panels. We’d be subjected to a listing of the players strengths and weakness, plus who can line the field when he isn’t pitching on a piece of paper he obtained from a Snickers wrapper that was in the trash can that Luhm failed to dump thoroughly. Mimi does the same thing but she usually buys steno pads to bore us to tears.
We still have to get through Chris and Alexa and based upon the streak that seems to be an omen, baseball or softball won’t start tomorrow. They still have to discuss why that streak always shows up whenever there’s controversy in academics. Never in athletics. When did you EVER see that streak on the gridiron or the basketball court or the badminton arena? 10-team Mudlark Wrestling All-Comers Classic? Nope, the streak won’t appear on the mat.
So we patiently wait for Chris or Alexa to pull the Windex out of his or her pocket while poring over the small stuff relating to academics. All in good time. I hope Gil’s cap doesn’t get wet. You know about this fickle weather in March. Hell on a guy sleeping in the dugout.
Today’s headline in the Milford Enquirer
“Chris Pops The Question In High School Cafeteria!!!!!!!! Sketches Proposal With Bowie Knife On Picnic Table!!!!!!!!!!!”
sub headline
“O.J. : ‘This ceremony is happening over my dead body.”
“Really, I suggested killing the plot a month ago. Nobody told you?”
They dress like The Blob or Siamese Twins
Black as gold
Threaten to eat all and next of kin
They’re so bold
Mimi and Gil better take a spin
Silhouettes never grow old
That’s what I’m told
That’s
What
I’m
Told
Silhouettes
SILHOUETTES
Silhouettes
SILHOUETTES
Silhouettes
SILHOUETTES
Never grow old
Oh great. We COULD be stumbling into baseball or softball, depending which one drones on the best for, oh, 4 months, but NOOOOOOO we have to get sidetracked by The Lake House. Yeah, like Keanu Reeves, we’re about 2 years behind on things. Chris ought to be getting the grade he received on his Advanced Chem final from Harvard any day. And Alexa will get the MVP Award after leading UConn to the National Championship in Women’s Basketball. The trophy ought to be delivered to her house by Milford UPS right on schedule. I understand Coach Auriemma mailed her a letter begging her to stay another year. Good forwards are hard to come by. And to think, all this backward history can be traced (pardon the ignoble pun) to Mimi teaching her that grades are like points, nobody’s going to give you free cars or $100 handshakes if neither one is very high. And that’s assuming you’ll even get a scholarship.
“…this is the way it should be for lovers
They shouldn’t go it alone, oh no…”
Then with Chris delivering about the lamest confession in quite some time, going by Thorpiverse years, is that Paul McCartney’s “This Never Happened Before” playing over the cafeteria speakers? I’ll know for sure when I see two or more cafeteria ladies start to slow-dance with each other and get all kissy-faced. The Lake House had that effect. We presume this is NOT going to happen between Chris and Alexa. Keanu Reeves and Sandra Bullock are simply going to negotiate co-Valedictorian terms and leave The Lake House for Marty and Peaches. They put their deposit in 2 years ago, Chris and Alexa better wrap this up.
“Ohhhh, Melba (kiss, kiss) I’m so sorry for saying you stack the Hostess Twinkies on the rack (kiss, kiss) like dirty Holiday Inn towels…”
“And Rayette, I’m sorry (kiss, kiss) if I told you you cook the pork fritters (kiss, kiss) in a bowl of Pennzoil…”
THIS NEVER HAPPENED BEFFFFOOOOORRRREEEE
If yore waitin’ for yore high-powered Winschester with sights that could knock a bobby pin offa Gil’s hair that ya ordered 2 years ago frum Milford Guns and Ammo cuz they didn’t have it in stock and yore still waitin’ another 6 months for the plot and the bullets to come ’round so yuz kin do some huntin’ in tha woods behind Gil’s Pure Pork Sausage plant, ya might be a redneck.
“…and now I seeeee
This is the way it’s supposed to be…”
“Whhheeewwweeee, it’s getting cold. This aluminum bench is Hell to sleep on. Better get another jacket out of the trunk. I hope Mimi stuck that leftover On-Cor Boneless Grilled Steaks in the oven when I come home tomorrow morning. War is Hell.”
“…so come to me
Now we can be what we want to be…”
This Paul McCartney Romantic Moment is brought to you the new movie “Bill Nye The Science Guy: Teaching The Periodic Table in Milford High Freshman Chemistry.” What could have been a magical moment and had been the second coming of Keanu and Sandra and thereby salvaged a lackluster basketball season plunged in the salvage itself.
We are forced to whip out our calculators and watch romance morph into a trig table. Not that I, or anyone else for that matter, was really expecting Chris and Alexa to kissy-face like the cafeteria ladies, er, Keanu and Sandra. If it WERE to occur, Keanu and Sandra would have to detour to MIT.
“And if you use standard deviation, you’ll find my love for you isn’t wavering all that much. It was never in Ms. Rizk’s typewriter having no life…”
“Oh, Keanu, the fact that we are just points from each other, well, like Springsteen
“Two hearts are better than one
Two hearts, girl, get the job done”
“Atta way to use the FOIL method on our relationship, Sandra. We’ll be trinomials by the time baseball gets around. We’ll have little polynomials running around The Lake House”
“The stork ought to be delivering our polynomials anytime. Remember that time when we learning natural logs together two years ago?”
The scriptwriter for The Lake House that graduated from Rose-Hulman got fired. He’s now writing Trigonometry Today textbooks for the Valley Conference High Schools.
Lumped like coal and having no name
Anonymous
Walking in stride, the gait’s the same
Synchronous
Makes a tarantula look tame
In the woods, they’d be wild game
Seeking to maim
Seeking
To
Maim
Silhouettes
SILHOUETTES
Silhouettes
SILHOUETTES
Silhouettes
SILHOUETTES
They all look the same
ALL
LOOK
THE
SAME
And under the category of Pantheon of Mysterious Objects, that thing on the wall in the cafeteria in P3 can simply be nothing other than a heating unit. We gotta keep The Blob alive somehow. Keep that damn thing under a heat lamp if you want it to terrorize the city of Milford when the dismissal bell rings. DON’T leave it out in the dugout with Gil waiting for the baseball plot to start. The Blob could turn into The Flop by the time we get to Memorial Day.
Today’s Women’s History Month entry is Karen Ferguson-Dayes, the Women’s Soccer Coach for University of Louisville. She was a multiple All-All-American for University of Connecticut back in the early ’90’s as a sweeper and a midfielder. She eventually wound up in the current position just mentioned. Her no-nonsense style has enabled the Cardinals to participate in several NCAA post-season runs, and some deep runs at that. I remember when a reporter asked how she was going to prepare for a major opponent and she, knowing there was ANOTHER opponent to play before that, reminded the reporter “Excuse me, we play THIS team FIRST!!!!!!” Don’t overlook ANY opponent. Spoken like a true coach. Then, one night, playing a team that was employing dirty tactics, she still insisted that her team still stick with the Game Plan. How you play the game, win, lose, or draw. Starting out 1-18, her 182-162 record at Louisville speaks for itself. Join me in saluting a person who keeps competing and has won that way, on and off the field.
“We’ll be back to see if Marty Moon if finds his manhood under the bunk bed at Mudlark Lake Resort while Peaches heads to the fridge for a Yoplait after these messages. You’re watching WDIG-TV.”
At The Lake House
“…I met you and now I see
This is the way it should be…”
“Ohhhhhh, that is so romantic. The Beatles sure know how to get a girl going. They don’t make ’em like they used to.”
KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK
“Go away, Mrs. Shaw!!!!!!!!!!”
“But Honey, weren’t we going for a midnight swim? I’m kinda horny and I’d LOVE for you to do a cannonball on meeeeeee!!!!!!!”
“I called Keanu Reeves and he said there’s still sharks swimming around when he was rentin’ it. I ain’t gonna have my Significant Other bitten off by Jaws.”
“Darling, it’s a freshwater lake.”
“Bloopie, bloopie, it’s got all kind of algae in it. That causes my Significant Other to attract scum. I don’t want to go skinny-dipping with a green weenie. What would the neighbors think? Plus, it breeds that Coronavirus they’re talking about in the news. The boogeyman or the Algae from Hell won’t come in here. I got the bathroom dead-bolted.”
Heard somewhere from the septic tank outside
“…So jump on me
This is the way love’s supposed to be…”
“Honey, you can’t quarantine yourself just because pond scum breeds a little out of control. You can jump on me out in the middle of the lake. We’ll have life preservers and you can jump off the raft and take on me.”
“No way, Mrs. Shaw!!!!!!!! I microwaved my toothbrush and made sure I spit out thoroughly when I spit out my Colgate. That Coronavirus will go down the drain faster than stink beating the virus on shit.”
“How are you going to eat?”
“I bought a lot of Rice-a-Roni and stuck it under the bathroom sink. I can use the sink to boil water. I’ll have the 4-Cheese Rice-a-Roni tonight. No Coronavirus will get past these doors and land on my bill of fare.”
“If you can’t land on me because Coronavirus has landed on your Significant Other, let me know.”
“She had me there. And we were paying good money to rent out The Lake House and not doing any more than Captain Kangaroo would do with Mr. Moose. With treatment programs that work, don’t YOU want to hear Paul McCartney in the background while gettin’ it on in the lake? No wonder why they call it The Lake House. House of Fun to me. Come down to the Milford Men’s Clinic and jump on in, the water’s fine.”
Get after it, Gang. You are the world to me. Just be careful, The Blob was last seen in your neck of the woods.
“…this is the way it should be for lovers
They shouldn’t go it alone, oh no…”
Gil entering Dr. Pearl’s office
“I just received Schuring’s 4th-grade test scores and there was no indication of foul play, he’s good for Stanford and-er, what are you doing hugging your coat rack?”
“…It’s not so good when you’re on your own
(Kissy, Kissy, Kissy)
So come to me…”
“And Harrieta, I’m sorry if I said you mop with Pine-Sol and Tequila Sunrise.”
Sorry to be so late on today’s post. We may all be confined to quarters but our work hasn’t stopped.
Rubin’s poor clock management has pushed him further into the no-huddle offense. We jump from Gil giving Dr. Pearl her marching orders out of the star chamber to the results of those orders: Teddy on lockdown at Casa DeMarco. Chris may not be there to beat up on Teddy, but Hiawatha, Marcel and Tom hiding behind the door there might be a bit more willing.
At least we finally get hints as to what bug Teddy’s had up his ass about Chris. It’s been six years shorter than the one Alexa had for Chris, so unlikely it had anything to do with Jeopardy! Did Chris pass over Teddy when picking sides for flag football in PE class? Make fun of his hair? Or is it just ’cause Chris is a good team player and just so goshdarn smart?
Whatever its I’m sure it will be as stupid and underwhelming as every other plot device we’ve seen this winter. Bring on baseball, as this’ll be the only place we see it for a while. Can’t wait to see if Valley Tech will put someone in their scoreboard to steal the Mudlarks’ signs and beat on a garbage can.
Well, it looks like Phoebe’s theory was borne out. The Jefferson defender is getting out of the way and giving Alexa a smooth path to the hoop. (Hey, there’s that rectangle again.)
Surely Jefferson has coaches. Will these coaches request that their players defend the lane now that newly assertive Alexa is determined to plow through it on every possession? The Jeffs have a banner indicating some sort of championship in this century. One would think there is someone paying attention in the bench area.
Oh, Alexa is also pulling up and shooting jumpers. Wow. What a transformation! What’s a few dislocated shoulders and dented lockers at MHS now that offensive juggernaut Alexa Watson has been unleashed.
So now all that’s left is for Alexa to thank Chris Schuring for the advice (via Phoebe) and the two would be valedictorians/emerging hardwood beasts can just put competition aside and just bone already! (Did I say that out loud?)
Where we went: Alexa is hung up on an offhand remark third-grader Chris made to her third-grader self nine years ago. She’s let it affect her self-perception ever since.
Where we could have gone: The white boy who watches Jeopardy! is labeled “smart” and the black girl who watches Jeopardy! is labeled “geeky,” at least by the black girl in her own mind. Apparently nobody else got that message, or else they did and they’ve been keeping it on the down low. So much to mine here; looks like we won’t.
Where we’re going instead: To the Milford High Sanitorium – or is that “Janitorium”? Luhm’s full janitorial arsenal is on open display above his perpetually shiny handiwork. Phoebe, who has to keep telling Alexa she’s her best friend every other time she opens her mouth, is going to play some sort of intermediary between Chris and Alexa. Maybe Chris wants to ask Alexa to the prom? Share his study guide for AP Western Civilization? Get Phoebe in the Janitorium alone, forcing her to make a tough decision between hooking up with the Mudlark QB and professing her secret love for the one she’s constantly reminding she’s her bestie?
Rubin was doing a good job keeping this story arc between the ditches, but now he’s perilously close to letting it run into the berm. Stick around to watch; I’m planning on it.
Well butter my ass and call me a biscuit. Gil Thorp is actually doing something tantamount to coaching today, but could he go about it any more awkwardly?
I mean really. He pulls the kid out of class, makes him suit up in his game uniform, then makes him come back into his office to stand in front of his enormous window while he lectures him. What sort of bizarre power trip/sexual peccadillo is at work here, I leave to the mind of the reader. Talk amongst yourselves.
With that out of the way, let’s figure out how this weird scene advances the plot. Schuring doesn’t mind taking the shots in practice against his crappy teammates, but hesitates to shoot against actual competition. Now, at Gil’s direction, he’ll take more shots during games. He’ll miss his share and, when he does, Teddy DeMarco will get into his head. Good guy Chris will pretend not to care until he actually does, and his academics will suffer in turn. Meanwhile Chris’ caring teammates will duct tape DeMarco into a locker until Teddy whines about his bad home life or whatever bullshit excuse bullies use for being bullies. Everybody kisses and makes up and Milford still misses the playdowns. Someone makes a lame joke and everyone exits, stage left, through a hallway.
What about all that valedictorian drama? That’ll have to wait until after spring sports are over and the school year ends, sometime around the Fourth of July.
“Mr. Grey, you idiot. Chance’s files wouldn’t be under Ms. Rizk’s typewriter. Have you considered searching in the file cabinet in Dr. Pearl’s office?”
“That’s the difference between you and me, Mr. Blue. I do my own ransacking and it got me to Nixon’s papers. He turned in the tapes to the Milford Enquirer the very next day.”
“Hey, guys!!!! What the Hell are we looking for? His kindergarten records? His Due Process judgment after what he did to that kid at recess?”
“The concept is very simple, Mr. Green. We want to find anything to ruin Chance so he doesn’t even consider the Manwiches at the two-a-days next season. Utilize your machine gun if you have to in order to open the vault. It’s not on time-release so I’m afraid drastic measures may be in order.”
“Gee, thanks, Mr. Blue.”
“You’re quite welcome, Mr. Green.”
And BOY O BOY, to quote Harry Carey, we have hit the jackpot today on the Pantheon of Mysterious Objects.
WHAT in the world is that thing on the Macys’ table. A giant cookie? Gazoo’s flying saucer that got trashed by vandals 2 feet tall? DON’T EVEN tell me that’s an Eggo Waffle. Sure, Kellogg’s is starting a new product line of Eggos with raisins in them the size of a Whammo! Frisbee. If you don’t feel like eating it because you’re hung over like Chet in P3 or you’re on a low-bread-and pastry diet regimen, you can always enter the Frisbee Golf Tournament at Milford Beverage Warehouse with that disc flyin’ high. I’ll hit Captain Rum in par or less every time. Baby, I’m nailin’ that refrigerator door that’s housing the Coors Lite in the Warehouse Beer Den. No need to raise the flag, Gentlemen. In the hole.
Now you eat all your sausage bits from that Bucket Pan Lovers Sausage and Pepperoni Pizza, Mrs. Macy. There are starving kids in Oakwood who would devour a slice of that pepperoni. Oh, you gobbled that up already. My bad.
And does Mrs. Macy carry her Electric Shave apparatus to the table at breakfast time? Does she use it to shave Mr. Macy’s head after he evidently went a little overboard on the Rogaine? I mean, he was Lou Grant a month ago. Now he’s Grandpa Cleaver. The only other reason I can surmise at this point is the turkey they have in the oven. Gotta trim the fat the minute you pull it out of the oven. Leftover turkey with shards of lard is not a Thanksgiving tradition at the Macy’s, that much we know.
Now, I think the canister on the counter IS a cookie jar. When I open the lid, it’s either Oreos or Chips Ahoy! No Keebler Elves disguising it as a Mr. Coffee appliance. Now we’re dealing with Thorpiverse so on any given day, as I learned as a coach, be ready. There is so much parity nowadays in College Basketball. But for now, I’ll stick with my original guess, a cookie jar. Don’t talk yourself out of a victory, especially with 10 seconds to go.
If ya get drunk after yore kid hit the game-winning home run in the Milford Optimist League T-Ball Tournament and ya cain’t go ta Chuck E. Cheese’s ta celebrate cuz all them animated musicians up on stage, the ones they hocked from Milford Disneyland Park, are makin’ yore head spin that much more, especially when they’s playin’ the Mudlark Fight Song and Good ol’ Rocky Top, ya might be a redneck.
And I have been a fan of Ma and Pa Kettle for years, particularly this episode in P1, Ma and Pa Kettle in the Port-o-Let After They Consumed One Too Many Corn Dogs at the Milford County Fair. It ought to be out on DVD next week. I’ll check Milford Video this coming Monday.
“Mr. Brown, check in Coach Kaz’s desk. I understand that he was storing a letter he received from the Milford State Corrections Facility, clearing Chance to play football after not getting violent with his cellmates. The one that talks about his earning a Wal-Mart Good Job button. I couldn’t think of a more damaging piece of information to mar Chance’s record.”
“On it, Mr. Blue”
“Thank you very much, Mr. Brown.”
BUUUUUZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ
“This is Lieutenant Garber here. What are you doing out of Mudlark One Two Three, Blue? I thought you had hostages.”
“I revised my methods, Lieutenant Garber. I found I could garner more hostage money holding someone’s reputation at stake.”
AAAAAACCCHHHHHOOOOOOOOOOOO
“Gesundheit. Blue, how long you gonna stretch this thing out? I mean, Milford has a game tonight. Surely you aren’t going to rain on a kid’s parade?”
“Lieutenant Garber, we killers do what he have to do to attain the prize.”
“Even if it was Gil’s hair?”
“We killers are cold-blooded, not desperate, Lieutenant Garber.”
Today’s headline in the Milford Enquirer
“Hostages Safe From Mudlark One Two Three After Killers Decide To Raid Milford School Corporation Building Annex For Sensitive Information!!!!!!!!!!!”
sub headline
“Coach Thorp: “It was just a one-night stand and we didn’t take off our clothes. And it was over 30 years ago. I married her later.”
The consolation prize in all this is that Mrs. Roh actually LOOKS LIKE MRS. ROH. No Picasso distortions (Heard at Milford Arts and Science Museum: “Gravel Gertie looks so natural.”) , no Mary Worth disguised as Tootsie Bumstead, no Lois looking like Hi from Hi & Lois, no Hagar the Horrible With Emphasis on Horrible. She is in prime form as she is, through telekinesis from P1, continuing the message and gloating all the while. Gang, can anyone blame her? Thought so.
But, damn, just when it was about to get nominated in the Oscar Category for Best Improvement in Artwork, the silhouette in P2 took Thorpiverse out of the running. Oh well, there’ll be other Oscar ceremonies.
I mean, Chet is trashy and rednecky with that Dalton Georgia Warehouse Carpeting he calls a beard but let’s not get hasty and draw him like George Washington on Mount Rushmore when the latter forgot to shave.
Joe and Jane Tourist at Mount Rushmore one day
“Oh, look dear, the maintenance crew is sandblasting our Forefathers.”
“Honey, they’re just trimming Roosevelt’s mustache. And Jefferson had some 2-day shadow, that’s what the Park Ranger said.”
“How the Hell you expect me to find anything by Chance in Gil’s playbook, Mr. Blue? His whole goddam office’s got playbooks he hasn’t used since they landed on the moon.”
“Patience, Mr. Grey. Go to his personal water closet, you might find a picture of Chance caught masturbating on one of the lockers.”
“If you think for one second I’m going to check under the toilet seat-”
“This is Lieutenant Garber here, do you read me?”
“I read you loud and clear, Lieutenant Garber.”
“Hey, Okay, you got us for the moment. But leave alone the time my partner Lieutenant Patrone hid kiddie porn magazines in the equipment shed. He was just a teenager. Gil threw ’em out and made him run 100 laps. Don’t you think that’s punishment enough? Gil never returned until basketball.”
AAAAAAAAAACCCCHHHHHHHHHOOOOOOOOOO
“Gesundheit. Whatya say, Blue?”
“We can work with that. We want a better football team, not worthless gossip.”
“You’re a pal, Blue.”
“Anytime, Lieutenant Garber. Mr. Green, it’s optimal that you don’t spray that Cruex Anti-Jock Itch can again. Besides, I’m afraid Gil’s office smells bad enough from the time he failed to curb his dog he brought in one Saturday.”
On the other end
“He bought it, Rico. Now where’s that back-up unit?”
“I called the Milford Police. They’re unavailable until after the reserve game.”
“Ya gotta be kiddin’ me. We got a game on the line.”
“Except we’re talking about saving Coach Thorp’s bacon.”
“Sheeesh, I forgot. Can they leave a quarter early?”
“I’ll ask.”
“Tell ’em split like Thorp and Kaz do at halftime.”
“BTW, Blue, I understand you know who shot Coach Shaw.”
“That is correct, Lieutenant Garber.”
“Well, can you tell me that much?”
“Certainly. it was-”
AAAAAAAAAAACCCCCCCCHHHHHOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
“Gesundheit. Well, what about it?”
“I’m sorry, Lieutenant Garber. I’m afraid we have hazardous material all over Coach Thorp’s game films. You’ll have to allow me a few minutes while we tidy things. (Off the walkie-talkie) “Mr. Green, did you fail to take a Contac again? Mr. Brown, see if there’s Sani-Wipes in Coach Thorp’s gym bags. We don’t want to ruin the 2014 season.”
“Right away, Mr. Blue.”
“How long are we going to put up with TNT snout, Mr. Blue?
“We’ve put up with Gil’s coaching for longer than that. Do you want mucus all over the prairie windows for 60 years, Mr. Grey?”
“Better than waiting for this plot to end, Mr. Blue.”
P3 just about says it all. Any of you Mountain fans like yours truly knows that on their classic Flowers of Evil (MISSISSIPPI QUEEN, DA DA DA DA DA, YA KNOW WHAT I MEAN…) was a song titled “One Last Cold Kiss”. The last lines of the tune
Once so proud, he’s beaten now
He will not speak at all
Pretty well sums up the song and Mr. Ballard at the breakfast table. That, or he didn’t eat his Wheaties or that Archway Cookie Herman Munster Always Chows Down On Before He Leaves To Go To Work. But I’m goin’ for the sure out on this bad boy. Don’t prolong the inning.
BTW, did anybody check the score? Look again at Mrs. Roh’s cell phone.
“Mr. Grey, I won’t say it again. Hand in your gun, Grouch glasses and Gil’s hair so we can all get out of here.”
Up yours, Mr. Blue. At least Gil doesn’t hide behind these Groucho glasses when he’s confronting the ref.”
BLAMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM
“Gentlemen, let us depart. Rest in peace, Mr. Grey. He was going to work with the Milford cafeteria ladies when he got out of this-
BLAMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM
Mr. Brown is shot dead in the Mudlark Girls Gym. Mr. Green escapes through Mimi’s office with Chance’s Boys Town records, especially the citationwhen he was flogged 150 times for saying Father Flanagan never married because Gil beat him to it, and takes a couple of scorebooks that wouldn’t be used until the 2023 season. Extra Kleenex for his sniffles.
“Excuse me, would you mind turnin’ around and droppin’ it? Drop it, I say.”
Mr. Blue drops his gun, scratching the woodwork in the gym.
“Lieutenant Garber.”
“Mr. Blue.”
“Tell me, do you still execute your prisoners?”
“Naw, we ain’t into cruel and unusual punishment no more. Not since The Bucket was converted from a Bed & Breakfast that Gil’s granddad owned before he croaked eatin’ Munchos.”
“Pity.”
Mr. Blue uses his foot to kick on Mimi’s boom box and turns up volume. The Tremeloes’ “Silence is Golden” and the “Flintstones Chewables Theme Song” is blaring from the speakers, motivational tools Mimi uses to get her kids to handle the enemy crowd during the 5-game season.
Mr. Blue’s ears are smoking and his brain is turning into mush.
“Oh my God.”
“We will return to the exciting conclusion of The Taking of Mudlark One Two Three after these messages, here on WDIG-TV.”
“Man, I wouldn’t want to be in Mr. Blues shoes right about now. Fans have always said my brain is fried but never literally. My noggin is still intact after that end-around takes a loss for 10 yards.
Hi, this is Coach Thorp here. And I got a better way of handling stress and everyday living. That’s why I am proud to announce my new product, Gil Thorp Pure Pork Sausage. Now I know a lot of you prefer Jimmy Dean or Tennessee Pride. To heck with them. What do they put in their sausage anyway? Word’s out that when the pigs go to the Milford Slaughterhouse that they shoot them Yorkshires buckshot full of lead. I’ve heard of fillers but this is taking things too far. Do you want to eat scrambled eggs and smoky links with bullets from a .22? How do you stick the rifle in the poor pig’s mouth? The slaughter dude evidently has good aim. Or lots of practice.
And I understand that Tennessee Pride stuffs their hogs with Bucket Burgers. Yuck. Don’t know boutchoo, but I don’t want sausages on the griddle that are laced with Big Mac’s. My sausages use the finest ingredients that are seasoned with the finest of spices, just like my mom used to get at the Milford General Store. Whenever I sink my teeth into Gil Thorp Pure Pork Sausage, I remember the cumin and the thyme mom used to dump on my pancakes. After she poured Aunt Jemima, naturally.
And Mel Purnell is Goooood but, shoot, who wants a hog on the front cover of the package? That’s why me and Mimi and the kids are on every package that you buy at the Milford IGA or Milford Wal-Mart or wherever you shop. Don’t we look natural posing in front of my cousin’s pig farm? You think Dr. Pearl can pose any better on HER sausage package? And Keri rode a 9-year-old female after the photo shoot. Maybe you can’t make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear but you sure can ride ’em cowboy before they become the sausage patties you eat after you’ve eaten your toast and drunk your Minute Maid.
Especially the ones we make at Gil Thorp Pure Pork Sausage. Come taste the difference and see why we say “Don’t get bitter just because our pigs are better.” You deserve some good eatin’ and you’ll get it with Gil Thorp Pure Pork Sausage.”
Gang, have at it. In the meantime, I would like to pull a plug for Mel Purnell and his family. They are solid people who have done a ton for the community. They prove that the product is Goooooooodddd because the people are. I salute you, Mel and family.
WE ARE FLINTSTONES KIDS 10 MILLION STRONNNGGGGGGGGGG AND GROWWWIINGGGG
“Attaway, Daphne!!!!!!!!!!!! You looked smooth on the lay-up. Goshen can’t put their crowd on the floor!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”
Lieutenant Garber and Lieutenant Patrone knocking on the door of the Ballard’s residence. Chet hides most of the pilfered records of Chance in the bottom drawer of his bureau, under all his packages of Hanes he’s amassed over all the Christmas’s he got from his wife. The rest he crams in the Amana stove in the kitchen.
I’M COMING
“How many more do we gotta see?”
“Six.”
“Yikes. Times like these I wish I went into real estate.”
“Come on, Mr. Ballard, we haven’t got all day!!!!!!!!!!!!!”
I’M COMING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Opens the door
“What’s up?”
“Can we come in?”
“Sure!!!!!!!!!!! Make yourself at home!!!!!!!!!!”
“Appreciate the pleasantries but can you account for your whereabouts last night? Chance Macy’s records were stolen.”
“You’re kiddin’ me.”
“Would I be here if I was kiddin’?”
“I was working.”
“Working? I thought you sold insurance.”
“I’m a forklift operator for Milford Foundry on 2nd shift.”
“Can they verify that?”
“Garber, while you’re talking to him, I need a smoke.”
“Okay, Rico.”
“Let me turn on that stove in the kitchen-”
I’LL GET IT!!!!!!!!!!!!
“It’s a bit tricky. These Amana stoves are as fickle as Gil’s coaching. There, enjoy your Camels.”
“Thanks, Mr. Ballard.”
“Come on, Rico, let’s go. We’ll be back later with a warrant, Mr. Ballard.”
“Look, I know I’m the black sheep of Milford but I would never stoop so low as to do that. I want my own step-son to succeed on the gridiron but I would never be a mole. Now do me a favor, get the Hell outta here!!!!!!!!!!!!!”
Is Chance trying out for the cheerleading squad or auditioning to sell Toyotas?
I realize I’m dating myself with the latter reference (“Ok Boomer” is the pissy way the kids are saying it this week IIRC). Speaking of pissy, nice shift from pissy-faced to all smiles by old Gildeaux there. You’d think Gil would be having a cow about one of his starters benching himself with a fake injury to give his backup some playing time, but it didn’t faze him that much when True Standish did it for Jarrod Hale a few years back.
Nope, Gil’s just relieved that Chance is staying away from The Bucket, where they have sharp utensils handy. Better Macy and his shadow teammates punch the air harmlessly, another audition to shill old Toyotas…
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