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Mark Trail, 11/12/12

It seemed so natural, right from the start. The kindly old man who taught him the island’s secrets. The boy, normally proportioned, pre-orphaned and adoption-ready — who made no demands and cared nothing for fishing, content to play in the sand. The young widow, Ava, fit and eager like Cherry when they were new in love, a spark of interest in her soft eyes smoldering slowly into something more. And Andy, his rock. No place could be home without Andy. But this place — this could be home. Had always been his home.

Cherry filled her days making coffee and pancakes. Bill’s calls, full of wild excuses about a ransom no one ever expected to be paid, slowed and then stopped, to their mutual relief. But she watched in growing horror as Rusty huddled dead-eyed in the shack he built near the rotting pier, tying ever more garish and disturbing trout flies that he never used, wouldn’t sell, and finally grew too ashamed even to show her.

They met again, once — even touched. Mark on a supply run from the small island, Cherry on a desperate vacation from Doc’s endless gibbering and Rusty’s nightlong howls, their hands brushed reaching for the store’s last box of Bisquick. Cherry gasped as the caress of ruined, sinew-knotted knuckles resurrected longings she thought had been buried years before. Their eyes met, but Mark’s saw only an old woman, face frozen into a mask of bitterness and resignation. He let her keep the box out of pity, and never thought of her again.

The boy tried to run Otto’s kidnapping operation but had no head for the business side. The small island filled with unclaimed hostages, taxing the feeble aquifer — and the ocean only rose. At last one day, when the typhoid had claimed Ava and the boy sat in jail from a ransom sting, Mark brought Andy to the remaining boat and set sail for the mainland. He would keep them alive by fishing — surely a Man of Nature could remember how.

Dick Tracy, 11/12/12

Walt Wallet is at least one hundred and twelve years old, but despite a failed attempt to send him to the Old Comics Home in 2006, Gasoline Alley just can’t seem to pull the trigger on the old coot. So they’re outsourcing the job to Dick Tracy, the most efficient killing machine on Planet Earth. ‘Bye, Walt.

Slylock Fox, 11/12/12

With Mark on extended leave, the King brings in a couple temps to manage poacher-catching. Since Slylock knows only one human, expect Slick Smitty to be hauled off to jail any minute on some far-fetched pretext: “There are no taxis to Liberty Island!” “You ate the vegetables while standing in the garden!” “Only the real mouse has a tail!” “Anteaters don’t have teeth!” “Your earrings are cold!”

Is anybody else troubled by what “poaching” might mean in a kingdom populated exclusively by animals? I believe the rhino has given the matter some thought.

Say, I don’t see a ring on King Dandy Lion’s fingertoe — could he and Princess Pussycat be planning a merger of the realms once Slylock has exterminated the remaining humans? I hear wedding bells! Oh, wait — those are death knells. Catchy tune, though.

— Uncle Lumpy

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Mark Trail, 11/6/12

So, everyone, quick poll: did Bill figure out a good way to tell Mark’s wife Cherry? I mean, what would sort of explanation would you prefer if your spouse had been kidnapped by an oddly jovial group of Caribbean pirates and was being held for ransom? Would you like some softening up first, like “Hey, Cherry, remember your neglectful husband who’s always running off and refusing to satisfy you sexually? It’d be pretty great if he got kidnapped, right?” Or would prefer it if Bill just straight-up told you what happened, even though he knows he’ll have to withstand a terrifying eye close-up? I like the latter approach, personally, though it’ll quickly flip from “good way to tell my wife Cherry” to “bad way to tell my wife Cherry” if Bill follows up with “So, uh, do you have $2 million you can lay your hands on pretty fast to pay the ransom? I mean the corporate yacht is worth more than that, but you wouldn’t believe the paperwork hoops I’d have to jump through if I went down that route.”

Dick Tracy, 11/6/12

Dick Tracy insane violence update! Sadly, Measles appears to have escaped his horrible ordeal without having been blinded or even suffering any visible scarring. Still, he’s now considering doping himself with some kind of crazy anesthetic patches that will allow him to not feel any of Dick’s bullets tearing into his body, and will therefore be able to fight until his body simply stops functioning. This is certainly promising!

Apartment 3-G, 11/6/12

“Margo Magee, you never cease to amaze me! It’s almost as if you’re not just indifferent to running a publicity agency, but are actively trying to alienate all your clients so as to bankrupt yourself as quickly as possible!”

IMPORTANT NOTE: Would you like to talk about today’s U.S. presidential election? Probably, as it is an important and exciting event, that is happening today! If that’s your thing, go on over to the post that I have created for this purpose. Please keep the comments on this post focused on the comics and the rest of the usual fun nonsense. Thanks!

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Pluggers, 10/30/12

You know, before I read the caption, I thought I had this one figured out — “pluggers are friendly and helpful, and also spend so much time at their local home improvement big box store that they know where everything is,” or something along those lines. So you can imagine that I was surprised and delighted to discover that it was actually about how pluggers are just stone cold constantly doing their business in public restrooms to the extent that they have elaborate mental maps of where they can go do it. Do pluggers have lower GI or urinary continence problems that cause them to routinely be on the prowl for a publicly accessible toilet? Are their home bathrooms so gross that they actually prefer to go in a facility that they can be reasonably sure is mopped once a day? Or do they get a sick transgressive thrill out of it? Whatever the case, this is sadly one of the most interesting plugger quirks showcased to date.

Rex Morgan, M.D., 10/30/12

Oh, hey, Rex Morgan sex worker update: the fun gals at Junior’s apartment building are strippers, not prostitutes. Strippers with hearts of gold, though, tending to and raising money for one of their number who (we learned yesterday) is suffering from breast cancer. Actually presenting a breast cancer storyline seems like a much more natural and organic way for the comics to acknowledge Breast Cancer Awareness Month than, say, just putting pink on everything, though it says a lot about the pacing of soap opera strips that this only became clear on October 29th. Will Rex do an emergency breast-cancer-ectomy, being a scowling dick about the whole thing all the while?

Mark Trail, 10/30/12

Speaking of strippers, check out Mark easing out of shirt in panel three as he prepares to cleanse himself in this pirate island’s beautiful lagoon, all under Pop’s watchful eye! This would definitely be the sexiest Mark Trail yet, were it not for the known scientific fact that Mark Trail is where erotic feelings go to die.