Recurring Theme at Casa de Trail -- Wood

1/6/09

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...

Andy Makes It to the Shrimp Boat

12/10/08

Exhausted from an all-night pursuit, Andy takes cover behind a tree and some unusual-colored swamp fronds to better assess his friend's state of captivity. Mark is still alive but certainly worse for wear, having aged several years over the last 12 hours ("Forever 32" my ass). His frumpiness levels appear to be off the charts as well. Looks like Andy arrived just in the nick of time. We're all so grateful, there's no point in questioning the shrimp boaters' decision to stop at a dock only dog-wandering distance from their point of origin.

Opportunity has opened a door for Mark but closed a window for Pop, who's down to his last plausible excuse for not searching for his comrade-in-khakis. It seems unlikely that a Type-A'er like Sue (she of the reverse bottom) will procrastinate for any length of time.

Enjoy the moment while you can, Pop. Soon you'll have to leave your random cabin on the edge of a dying swamp and venture 3 or 4 miles by vehicle to the shrimp boat, arriving just in time to see an unbound Mark punch his way to freedom.