Now Featuring The Incredible Shrinking “GIL” Mug

After a week of actual action and actual coaching in practice, we were overdue for some actual off-court wackiness in Milford. Where else would we have expected it than the teachers’ lounge?

Today’s strip finds Gil with a horribly dislocated hip and holding a stack of papers with what looks like a pile of French fries. Cue this MHS administrative type lady coming to him with news of player grades, presumably in his role as AD. Would this have not mattered more at the beginning of the season, when grades might determine eligibility? Or does Milford have some arcane rule that if your grades start dropping, you get kicked off the team?  That might explain the underachievement all these years.

Now what is it about Alexa’s academic issues that has caused Gil’s head to bobble and his coffee mug to shrink? Could it be that Mimi’s sudden emphasis on her playing offense has Alexa distracted from the books? Or was it Mimi’s playing grab-ass and the thoughts of blowing the whistle that have shaken her? Maybe Miss Watson is tired of the computer/virtual assistant jokes and is thinking that tanking a few grades may make those jokes go away. There’s never a good reason for sabotaging your chances of leaving a tank town, so the latter is kind of doubtful.

All Suited Up and No Place to Go

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.

 

 

“You’ve always been a glue guy. So now we’re gonna play ‘Horse’.”

“And by ‘play horse’ I mean ‘put you out to pasture’.”

Gil abuses his power to pull Chris out of whatever class he was in for… what, exactly? To run Death Valleys ’til he pukes for missing the final shot?  Nah, Gil already forgave him for that. Photo shoot to boost Gil’s and Kaz’s spank bank his college application portfolio? Really, it’s anyone’s guess in this cliffhanger before the cliffhanger. If that lost 20 minutes of class costs Schuring an A on the final and his valedictorian status, we’ll know this was all a subtle plot hatched by Alexa via Mimi cnd carried out by Gil, in exchange for Alexa’s promise to go harder in the paint.

 

Alexa – Start A New Plot

Oh boy! This is our new plot. Alexa Watson has to endure idiotic jokes about her name. This is going to be great!

Sorry for the delay. I’m dogged by connectivity problems. Also, I spent most of yesterday shopping around for a vehicle with a roomy pink interior.

Because Coach Thorp Won’t Take American Express.

Must we CONTINUE this comedy of errors, now that December is well under way? Is the check going to bounce and we take the whole month before we have sufficient funds in the savings account at Milford State Bank? I know The Joker paid a visit but I thought MSB was a member of FSLIC. Does it have to get approved by the Milford School Board before the financial pipeline reopens?

You better hope that Chet Baker’s card isn’t declined. It might be around The Super Bowl when Chet is able to pay the minimum again. Apparently all those charges he ran up on the photocopier caused the card to go over the limit. He doesn’t pump THAT much gas into his vehicle at the Milford BP.

At the Milford Walgreen’s

“Okay, sympathy card, friendship card, bag of Cheetos, personalized gym bag, Nike sneakers off the clearance table, Dickies work socks-12 pair, your friend’s prescription of atorvastatin from the pharmacy, windbreaker jacket, and Ecco Domani Pinot Grigio in the 1.5 liter bottle. Do you have your ID with you?”

“He’s underaged. I’m his step-dad. Here’s my driver’s license.”

Showing a picture of Chet Baker at 18 when he was beardless. Clerk is stupified momentarily by the transformation from Skeezix to Alley Oop. Clerk recovers nicely.

“That’ll do ‘er. It’s going to be $134.76. Go ahead and slide your card. BTW, is this all for your friend?”

“Everything but the wine, sir.”

“I know what you mean. If I played football for a guy who spends more time at Mr. Wilson’s house than on the footba-Oh, it says your card was declined.”

“Damn, I made an online payment yesterday. After I sent back Chance’s Gibault School records.”

 

After watching College Football scenes involving unsportsmanlike conduct penalties, many were deserved but getting flagged for embracing your school mascot was a bit much, in my view

Today’s headline in the Milford Enquirer

“O. J. Suspended From Milford Parks & Recreation Adult Flag Football League For One Week!!!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“Just because I hugged my grandma after scoring the winning TD? Cheap call, Man.”

 

Just when we thought we were devoid of Pantheon of Mysterious Objects and the readers who are mystified by them, Thorpiverse would have to inject itself with another dosage of M.C. Escher.

We THINK Charlie’s combo dresser drawer-file cabinet-triplicate safe deposit box (where I would have hidden Chance’s records after jumping from the second story of Milford School Corporation Annex, contraband in tow) is facing towards Chet and Charlie. That would be only logical.

“I’ve told you 3 times the cabinet isn’t parallel with that wall!!!!!!!!!  The window is perpendicular to it!!!!!!!!!!! This isn’t Office Depot!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! You’re grounded for a week!!!!!!!!!!!!!! And stop calling me ‘Chet’!!!!!!!!!!!!”

And Charlie, if you’re not smart enough to figure out that your step-dad didn’t think you could handle the competition because your STEP-DAD EVIDENTLY COULDN’T HANDLE THE COMPETITION, you need to get off the computer for a season (oops, bad noun, that might take forever, knowwhutImean?) and smell the Folger’s. Geez, no wonder why your Chippendale belongs in the Crazy House of Mirrors at the Milford State Fair.

 

If yore pissed off cuz Milford Guns ‘n’ Ammo won’t accept Amer-ee-cun X-press and yore Milford Guns ‘n’ Ammo Visa Debit card maxxed out and they won’t take yore SNAP card as col-lat-ur-al ta obtain the necessary shells ta shoot a squirrel that’s been hibernatin’ in yore oak tree in the front yard, ya might be a redneck.

 

P2-Boy, are YOU leaving yourself wide open with that question, Chet.

If I were Charlie

“For starters, if you’re going to grow a beard, stop dipping it in the Cool Whip. We had to go the Milford 7-11 on Thanksgiving on an emergency for the 3 pumpkin pies. It’s embarrassing when I have to explain to all my friends why you have an Oreo face.

“He gets that way when there’s no Arm & Hammer in the Lazy Susan.”

After 2 hours of intense negotiations

“And when we play pitch and catch, no more going to Coach Thorp’s garage to borrow the Nerf football.”

“But Gil never use it because he’s too busy being absent because he’s on permanent vacation at the Milford Country Club Golf Course.”

I think there’s some things you can agree to disagree on, Charlie. Union can’t have everything when negotiating with management. Give and take.

“And Chet? Would you like a Certs Peppermint? I have plenty in my paralleogram file cabinet.”

 

Because I was intrigued by a house at the T of the T intersection that was protected by a guard rail, 3 red warning signs, a yellow warning sign with arrows pointing in both directions JUST NOT STRAIGHT TOWARDS THE HOUSE, and some barbed wire as a throw-in

Today’s headline in the Milford Enquirer

“Coach Thorp Barricades House After Near-Miss From A Milford National Guard Training Exercise!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“Those saw horses out of Industrial Arts class ought to make those tanks think twice when they approach Jaime and Keri!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

 

And what would a teenager do with a credit card for a few days?

After Milford FINALLY ends football

CHANCE, WE’RE GOING TO DISNEYWORLD

 

Ooooooookkkkkkkkk, Gene Rayburn is back to restore sanity and hopefully expedite the end of the football process. My money’s on Gene to do so, Gang. Take ‘er away, Gene.

“Dumb Dora was sooooooooooo dumb (HOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! DUMB!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! WAS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! SHE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!) , she thought she could use Chet’s Visa card to buy _________________________”

 

So THAT’S what happened to Gil’s Nerf Joe Montana Pigskin Special. An anonymous Mudlark and Stick-Figure Face the Zebra are playing pitch and catch of their own. You get that way when you’re mopping up the competition judging by the caption in P3.

I almost thought it was Valley Tech judging by the language that Jabba the Hutt speaks on the player’s shirt but don’t believe Jabba uses the letter “M”. Jabba the Hutt EATS Mudlarks, doesn’t cheer for them.

What is scary is that after we’ve played Musical Chairs reading Chet’s death knell, P3 may be the extent of the football action in this last game. Anytime I see a referee with a hokey-pokey face (“You put your whole chin in, you pull your whole chin out…”) , I’m not bettin’  the ranch, Gang. Especially when Gil dug a trench all the way around his house. When a tricycle couldn’t cross GDMZ (Gil’s Demilitarized Zone) , it’s time to hang up the cleats on this one after you’ve dug all the mud outta the spikes. Subpar, indeed.

“That ends the 3rd quarter. Nobody knows the score but the script says Milford’s ahead. And we’ll continue this travesty after these messages. This is Marty Moon and you’re listening to WDIG, a Division of Learfield Sports.”

“Boy, all this whirlwind of non-activity is working me up an appetite. And making me thirsty.

Hi, this is Coach Thorp for Milford Beverage Warehouse and don’t you know I have a solution for you.

Right now, the Warehouse is stocking Gil Thorp Pure Pork Sausage in the refrigerated section. You can’t miss ’em, they’re next to the daiquiri section in Aisle 2. And instead of egg nog, why not sample some Gil Thorp Mild and Meek with your favorite 24-pack like Michelob Ultra, a bargain at 25.99 and for only 2 bucks more, you got that and my sausage guaranteed. Don’t know boutchoo but Michelob Ultra and fruit cake don’t cut it at my Christmas party.

And Woodbridge Chardonnay and Tennessee Pride Hot ‘n’ Spicy when you and your wife are doing candlelight when the kids are at a slumber party. What a way to ruin a romantic evening. I’m not a fan of sausage flambe. Save your candles for some real eatin’.

That’s why my sausage contains no carbotetrafluorophenols. I light a fire under my players’ butts without having to consult the manual at Dow Chemical. And I don’t light my Double Whopper Sausage and Cheese with them. For $8.77, you got the Chardonnay and Cheese Sausage in Paradise.

And I add a chaser of Maker’s Mark Whiskey to my Gil Thorp Fried Italian Sausage and Lunch-on-the-Go is never the same. And to sweeten the pot, for every flask of Maker’s Mark you purchase at $23.99, the Warehouse will throw in a package of Gil Thorp Pure Fried Italian Sausage in the bag. Ya gotta request plastic to validate the deal.

And Mimi knows I dig Captain Morgan’s Rum whenever she’s grillin’ my Sausage Mignon medium-rare. On a Dixie paper plate, drinkin’ and feastin’ couldn’t be finer, especially when I remember that the bottle runs at $19.99. Kowabunga.

Come in and have it your way and tell ’em Coach Thorp sent ya.

Comment away. I’m going to use Chet’s Visa card and hit McD’s. Anybody want anything?

ONE-HORNED

ONE-EYED

FLYIN’

PURPLE PEOPLE EATER

Oh, that’s the referee. Never mind.

“The bad thing is, no one under 40 cares about this strip.”

Reading today’s strip is a lot like buying house brand groceries. The ingredients are the same, the packaging is close enough to fool the casual observer, but when you open the box, pour out the contents then take a bite, something just doesn’t look or taste quite right. Take those teeny tiny backpacks the Milford students are wearing. At son of teenchy’s high school the classes are so far apart, and the time between them so short, that the kids wear expedition size backpacks and lug all of the day’s books and supplies around with them.

Take also Chance and Charlie’s convo. They’re spot on about school board doings – that’s their parents’ deal, not theirs – but their take on the Valley Tech game is more than a bit off. The Mudlarks aren’t gonna make the playdowns, so the only person who’ll be talking about the game will be Marty Moon. Win, and he’ll rag on Gil for underachieving all season; lose, and he’ll rag on Gil for the same old same old. The whole Ballard scandal is what will keep Milford talking long after the pads are put in storage and the last can of Nitrotan is sprayed in someone’s jock.

Finally, take Chet’s sorry-not-sorry apology. I get why Ballard is apologizing to Charlie (that is Charlie, isn’t it? Whigham can’t seem to keep him on model), but shouldn’t he be apologizing to Chance first? Maybe Charlie will tell him that in tomorrow’s strip.  Maybe  he’ll dangle the possibility that he’ll call Chet “Dad” after that, and offer that loser an unwarranted ray of hope. Maybe before it’s all said and done we’ll find out what happened to Chance’s parents. Then again I’m also hoping that any college football team nicknamed “Tigers” or that has a nut for a mascot loses this coming Saturday, but I don’t have my hopes up for that either.

I heard Marjie Rapping, Rapping At My Door.

Uh oh.

Whenever Marty casts that evil eye and leaves the Milford Recreational Sports 60th Annual Darts Tournament, you know something’s cooking between those ears of his. You just don’t execute a couple of bulls-eyes while you observe your overmatched opponent possess the aim of a welder when he has his gloves still on while still trying to solder the Anchor Pub sign back into place. The results are all over the dart board, literally, in back of Marty while he soaks in the Bud and the gossip. Sorta like walking and chewing gum at this point, when you think about it.

“Okay, Marty, you’re up.”

“I’ll skip this round. I have a great chance of winning the Masters 60 & Over Tournament later on anyway. Whose my opponent? Roy Gillen? In the bag. Anyway, Chet, so you say he mooned his kindergarten teacher and got due-processed? Before or after the teachers threw an Oreo in his chest at naptime?”

 

Once upon a plotline dreary, our interest weak and weary

I heard a tapping, tapping at my door

Coach Luhm came in to buffer like no tomorrow

We had no aegis with which to borrow

The buffer and the soap (opera) both caused great sorrow

But you could store one back in the closet

The other remained with us

Evermore

 

If ya gotta pursue the rent-a-trap route from Milford U-Haul after the crow done disturbed yore beauty sleep where yuz fantasizin’ about bein’ arm-and-arm with the 400-pound beauty queen in yore department on third shift at work and it takes forever ta set up the trap cuz the UPS driver forgot ta send the instruction manual, ya might be a redneck.

 

Unfortunately, our TWIMers may prove correct, i.e., Marty may rat out Chet rather than use the artillery Chet provides. I liked Teenchy’s omerta comparision because Marty may not only not recycle Chet’s lowdown on Chance’s truancy from Song Flute class but may use info like that to stultify Chet.

“So what if Chance couldn’t toot “On the Banks of the Wabash?. Hell, I had trouble accompanying the soloist on “MacArthur Park.” Did you ever try to keep up with Richard Harris on a song flute?”

 

Heard blasting on Gil’s speakers out of his Chevy Nova one day while he applies Turtle Wax Lime to the hood, the vocorder proudly proclaiming the message from Parsons’ “Tales of Mystery and Imagination”

While I was vacuuming

And emptying ash trays

I heard a knocking at my door

 

It wasn’t a Witness

No Girl Scout selling

Her fudgies evermore

 

In my amazement

She stood there intending

My assistance to implore

 

A School Board member

Must be dismembered

So we won’t hear

Forevermore

 

Thus quoth Gilberto

Nevermore

Thus quoth Gilberto

Nevermore

 

Nevermore Nevermore Nevermore

Never

Nevermore Nevermore Nevermore

Never

Nevermore Nevermore Nevermore

Never

 

NEVERMORE

 

Thank you to the Milford Chorale Society for the accompaniment to Ian Bairnson, Stuart Tosh, London Symphony Orchestra, etc.

Oh, and kudos to Milford Pawn ‘n’ Carry for the vocorder

 

I mean, Chet better watch his backside here. Which, if everything goes according to script, is really the idea. Chet’s about to get hoisted by his own petard because any time you unload confidential information to Loony Moony, well, you Hooligans know what the OTHER Loony Moony did with those cars. Wound up in Davy Jones Locker at some podunk Holiday Inn, last I recall. Chet, YOU might find yourself in the bottom of the swimming pool at the Oakwood Holiday Inn alomg with Chance’s parole records for the month of February if you continue this conversation at The Pub That Serves Anchors and Onion Rings and Darts That Are Really Dr. Pearl’s Knitting Needles.

Oh, pay no mind to Marty’s leer. He gets that way when he’s welcoming new members of the Wide Path of Destruction. Those Boys Town records of Chance you got FedExed from Father Flanagan ought to be secure at the safe deposit box at the Post Office while you’re attending Marty’s Day of Reckoning.

 

Because I’m really unsure why there’s a tanning clinic under the same roof as a laundromat like I saw recently

 

Today’s headline in the Milford Enquirer

“Coach Thorp Sent To Minor Emergency Clinic After Overexposure To UV Rays From Heat Lamp At Milford 24-Hour Coin Laundry!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“The damn rinse cycle took FOREVER to complete. I had to insert an extra quarter or two just to kick-start it.”

 

And the silken and uncertain rustling of this plot

Killed me-filled me with needless terrors and ennui I have felt in baseball and golf before

So that now, to the stagnation of everyone concerned, I stood repeating

‘Tis some muckraker entreating entrance at my chamber door

Some Grantland Rice-wannabe entreating entrance at my chamber door

That it is and nothing more

 

We will return to this Masterpiece Theater Father Brown Mystery in a moment but first let me explore the meaning of the phrase “to chat up”.

Now I can understand Chet and Marty CHATTING at the Anchor Pub in the family room because ya gotta leave your attitude and your gossip at the entrance leading into the bar. No discussion of Chance’s molestation of Milford Head Start children accusations when he was in charge of leading recess (“Okay, kiddies, grab your private parts and go ‘I think I can, I think I can…”) or when he sent Grandma Macy to Milford General Hospital because she served the wrong Hamburger Helper (“I wanted PORK and pasta!!!!!!!!!!”) .

And I can understand General Lee and General Grant CHATTING at Appomattox when discussing terms of surrender (“Sure, everybody can keep their pistols. Just gotta drop your Winchesters in the bin. So how’s your boy doing? Did you have to hold him back another year?”) .

And I can understand Batman and Robin CHATTING before they break into that deserted warehouse that hasn’t been used since the old ladies moved to Lowell, Massachusetts to comtinue their 18-hour shift of looming and weaving to arrest The Joker (“You’re flunking Phys Ed, Robin?”) .

BUT HOW THE HELL DO YOU CHAT UP?

A better question is

WHO CHATS UP???????????????

 

When Franklin Delano Roosevelt sponsored his Fireside Chats, he never, ever CHATTED UP the Tennessee Valley Authority project. Didn’t CHAT UP the WPA. Hitler was never CHATTED UP like it was North Carolina CHATTING UP Duke or vice versa (FUCK HOLLAND) . I mean, if I want to CHAT UP my Muriel cigar, I’ll go get my Zippo, thank you very much.

Anybody want the rest of these Bucket Buffalo Wings, BTW? Otherwise, I’m going to CHAT THEM UP.

Marjie is CHATTING UP the door in P2. And looks like she got an answer. Those Avon techniques work every time.

 

Open here I flung through Marjie’s peruke, when,

After many a spit and sputter

In stepped Margaret Nutchall’s mom after

Giving Dennis the Menace a/ka Chet

A tongue-lashing

But, with mien or otherwise uninvited, perched at my chamber door

Settled on a bust of Gil when he just used Tegrin Medicated Shampoo on his hair

She settled and the plot did nothing more

 

“…still paying extra for your lodging accommodations? Well, at Milford Motel Econo-Stay, you get a nice quiet room for $27 less than Milford Courtyard by Marriott. When Mimi’s aunt stayed a couple of days while traveling the country, why did she need to pay an extra 27 simoleons for a Gideon’s Bible? She brought her own, there was none in the drawer…”

 

P3-“We had made passionate love at the Milford Motel Econo-Stay…”

Well, what else could it be at this point as people have been doing more investigating than Smiley’s People? I have always liked reading John Le Carre, his deliberate style to FINALLY nail a Doctor No or some Soviet flunky who has engineered a plan to take over West Berlin by slipping past Checkpoint Charlie with the conspiracy hidden in Gil’s hair but do we really honestly have to read about this in Mudlarkland? Before it’s all said and done, Chance will be executed by a firing squad for treason right before kickoff to Valley Tech.

And who’s Ms. Forsman? Is she related to The Joker, given her choice of slacks which runs in synchronization with that villain’s wardrobe? Is THIS the reason why we gotta keep it real in P3 because Chance was seen in the Jokermobile aiding and abetting in the cause when The Joker and his gang set out to rob The Bucket? Well, The Joker doesn’t wear chunky earrings. And Chance may still have to answer for his possible Boys Town record but we don’t think Father Flanagan taught him to be a Commie rat. There’s hope.

Now we have it reduced to “Editor, Reporter, Sailor, Spy” Ducey and her tea time and scones with Mrs. Joker. I can’t wait for this Le Carre novel to be released next month. Oughta be exciting. Definitely more than this plot anyway.

 

Because I’m intrgued when kids sing around the campfire while dad has finally conquered his ED problems as I saw in an ad

 

“…take one down, pass it around, 97 bottles of beer on the wall-”

“Honnnneeeyyyyyyy, I’m glad you brought the kids along for our Milford Marraige Enrichment Seminar but we slid the credit card for the that cabin here at Mudlark Lake for a reasonnnnnnnnn. And I’m hornnyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy.”

“Just when we’re getting to the best part? Heck, Mrs. Shaw, I still haven’t opened that other bag of Milford Kwik-ee Mart Munchy Marshmallows? Okay, kiddies, who needs a stick? I can always rip a branch off that sugar maple over yonder.”

“Darling, that’s what the baby-sitter is for. Now put that Beanie-Weenie down and let’s do our own roasting in that nice comfy feather bed, the one that comes with a Gideon’s Bible.”

“Okay, who knows the words to Camptown Races?

Camptown Races sing this song

Doo Dah

Doo Dah

Find Chance’s bio and don’t be long

Oh Doo Dah Day-”

“This Camptown Race is taking way too long. You can always air guitar at the Enrichment Seminar Jamboree.”

“Just when I was doing my best Joe Walsh? Okay, boys and girls, repeat after me

I HAVE ACCOUNTANTS PAY FOR IT ALL

THEY SAY I’M CRAZY BUT IT TAKES ALL MY TIME

“Honey, is your wim wim as lame as that Oscar Meyer Wiener you’re roasting?”

Coach Shaw, getting desperate

“Oh I wish were as hard as this Oscar Meyer Wienerrrrrrrrr

Then my wife would truly be in love with me”

 

The kids understandably befuddled.

“Those aren’t the words.”

 

“When the hot dogs were firing up faster than my Significant Other, it was time to ‘fess up and head to Milford Men’s Clinic. You don’t need a pin oak branch to roast this bad boy and with proven treatment plans that work, isn’t it time you sang “Happy Days Are Here Again” at your next wienie roast? And they left the light on when me and Mrs. Shaw entered the cabin for our own Marshmallow Enrichment Seminar. Come get your own silver maple branch and start roasting the Vienna sausages only at The Clinic. You’ll be glad you did.”

Thanks again for your patience, Gang. I owe you one.

 

As I pondered, pondered the question

Whether my beloved Lenore would outlast this plot

The Raven, fresh from flatulating from a Burger at The Bucket

Reflected upon my inquisitive nature

Insensitive and inured to my desperate plight and the buffoonery therewith

And uttered

“Nevermore”

 

I’M BACK IN THE SADDLE AGAIN

 

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

“Get to The Clinic. You’ll have 15 minutes before it closes.”

Gil puts “Rocks” back in the saddle, er, album sleeve

Look Sharp, Feel Sharp, Be… Blunt

 

I’m at a loss for why this visit to the Chance Macy family home is dragging out as long as it is.  I mean, we even get a beat panel for Pop-pop to bobble his head. Is it to finally fill in the blanks as to the whereabouts of Chance’s parents?

Previously I’d speculated that they went the way of Silent John Pascoe’s folks. Perhaps they met a more sinister fate. Have they been banished to the great unknown with the Thorp children? Or was it simply a Tonight Show gag gone horribly wrong?

Speaking of which, how are you fixed for blades, Chance?