You know what the worst part about today's strip is? It probably is Mark pounding on the front door furiously in the wee hours of the morning.
Tomorrow, Cherry will throw the door open and Mark will be standing at the threshold in all of his khaki glory, shit-eating grin etched across his angular mandible. He'll say something like, "Hi Cherry, I'm Mark Trail! I've missed you and love your looks! The water's back in the swamp... that's quite a haircut you've got there!" Cherry will smile and primp in that possessed, I-have-no-eyes manner she's so fond of.
And she'll take her man back to bed, never to gnash her teeth alone again. There's no way it couldn't be Mark. Or couldn't it? No way. Stay tuned...
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