Dammit Frankie!  Can’t I count you guys to do anything right?!?  Note how quickly Big Mike switches from cigarettes to cigars… and How he stands back and puffs confidently as Frankie leaps to action using the increased size, bolded type to emphasize that this fellow knows TOO MUCH!

Nice Double Entendre, there, Mike… certainly Mark Trail HAS “Checked out…” in more than one way…

But then Big Mike, as if buoyed by Frankie’s bravado, calmly places his hand on Frankie’s shoulder and bids Mr. Jason Smith follow him and learn what has “happened to Trail…”  Clearly Big Mike has more than what is being revealed since it’s now worth TWO counts of kidnapping, false imprisonment, and MURDER… followed by multiple counts of obstruction when he goes to take care of BOTH cars now, since he needs to get involved if he wants ANYTHING done right…

I mean, what would his doctor say after he sees how Big Mike fills out the clipboard survey at his annual physical?  Drink?  Constantly.  Smoke? Yup.  Weight? Lots…

“Gaaah!  Trail has FRIENDS??? Who knew?  Geez, Frankie, What do we do now?  He’s probably not even stiff yet…  and you did take care of his car, didn’t you?”  At least Big Mike has changed out of his Pink shirt into a slightly more manly red one…  or perhaps the pink one faded on him… who does his laundry anyway, I wonder, and hasn’t that person ever heard of washing bright colors together in COLD water?  And won’t Jason be disappointed when he realizes he will never be Mark’s “friend” since he doesn’t have “Ol’” on front of his name or isn’t called “Bluegill” or some other such silly nature related nickname…

…beats the heart of…  NEWSPAPER-MAN!!! Able to work the phone (at least today he’s figured out how to hold it) and go GET THE STORY!!! I still chuckle at the notion of Jason Smith “working with Mark.”  I don’t think Mark would acknowledge as much.  He wouldn’t have the level of awareness necessary to pick up on that…  And aren’t WE being all Forward and Friendly…  “Hello Cherry, This is ‘Jason,’ you know, the guy you met once who went on a nature hike with your son??”

So with tied cinched back up, and lavender “Member’s Only” jacket donned, Jason, wearing his game face if ever I saw one, heads out to rescue Mark from the Deep Freeze… But will he make it on time??

Can you just feel the crescendo?  Big Mike and Frankie are about to get there comeuppance! And the animals of Lost Forest will be once again safe to roam and multiply until such time as they outstrip the available food supply and have to resort to eating their own!!

What, we don’t even get a break on Sundays…  More OTTERS!!

More on the notion that they are “friendly little creatures…” that can actually smile…  Please stop with the anthropomorphizing already…

Oh, the sixth sense that only a NEWSPAPERMAN can possess is sensing that Trail is IN TROUBLE… or at least wondering whether he might be… But let’s take stock of Jason Smith in his natural environment…  Silk Rep Tie pulled open and loose around his neck- check!  Laptop open and ready for action- check!  Vocalizing what would be for anyone else a private thought- check!  But what’s that he has in his hand in panel two…  could be a smart phone, could be a box of filter tipped cigars, judging by the way he is holding it…  Certainly not like a phone…  more like a walkie-talkie…  base, come in, come in base, Bald Leader here…”  And he looks so smug calling Big Mike and inquiring about doing “a little hunting…”

But then I probably wouldn’t be giving him such a hard time if he just stopped over-compensating for his lack of hair on top with the fact that he is letting it grow so long over his ears…  I mean I have heard of and seen bad comb-overs, but this is taking things (literally) to a new low…

And if you are no longer IN BUSINESS, then don’t answer your freakin’ phone…

…that this is a REFRIGERATED Meat Cooler…  not the kind that keeps its contents WARM… and who ever heard of hanging meat butt-down??  I am no hunter but I have never seen THAT done before…  And even when facing death, Mark simply must vocalize most every thought… Although I have to admit that it’s best to talk out loud when one is chastising oneself for not displaying the virtue of foresight…

What do you mean, Big Mike, he “won’t last long in that cooler?” What- do you have cyanide pellets that drop from the ceiling or something??  And why are you beating such a hasty retreat?  That’s an awful lot of house you are walking away from, friend… What money out of what customers?  I would imagine you run a cash operation there- “No money, no trophy…” Every time Elrod tries to introduce any notion of what a “going concern” looks like whether legit or crooked, he he just falls short of anything that would actually sustain and pay…

Big Mike apparently does his best thinking with a glass of whiskey in his hand, or maybe that’s prune juice?  Regardless, Frankie looks on helpless as usual…

Mr Squirrel says, “Shoot, my paw is stuck in this knot-hole… but if I unclench my fist, I won’t get the prize that I am after…”

Oh Mark… not very smart are we??  And I guess you won’t be “checking in” with Smith or your family anytime soon, will you, now that you are locked in the Meat Cooler… “Honest Officer, I have no idea what he was doing in there… guess he shut the door on himself… Camera? How would I know?  Maybe he had a cooler fetish or something…”  So, Mark, not so clever now, as you are destined to die a slow, sleepy death from hypothermia, even with a jacket on…

And what is that on your face in panel two, Mark?  Is that a sweat bullet?  That’s a pretty quick and extreme physiological reaction to being surprised…  did you soil yourself, too?  And what would there be in the Meat Cooler that would be remotely incriminating?  Dry aging otter? Big Mike’s Mother?

First it’s Rusty going into Rod Bassy’s van unwelcome and unannounced, now it’s Mark Trail snooping in Big Mike’s Meat Locker…  Hmmm… “Big Mike’s Meat Locker…” that has a good ring to it.  Maybe Big Mike needs to expand his empire into Frozen foods, what with all the meat that must be piling up with all the BIG TIME POACHING going on…  I mean, once the client gets the head to hang on his wall, there must be pounds and pounds of meat left over!!

Oh Mike, you are an evil man, you know that?  What breeds such evil?  I am sure your dear mother could never have imagined what devil spawn sprang from her loins… even if she’s still with us, I am sure she doesn’t want to know you… And Frankie- the excitable one… yesterday I told you to chill, now Big Mike grows weary of your hysterical outbursts, as in, “ What are we going to do now <exclamation point –one> <question mark- one>” It doesn’t get more tense than that…

I love when you talk smack- especially when you are wearing that bright pink shirt!!  And Frankie.  Dude.  Chill out.  Note the clenched fist in panel two…  he doesn’t know who he’s dealing with does he???  Itching for a fight are you?  Well bring it, my sideburned friend… Mark has that and then some waiting for you!

His “kind?” What- Mark isn’t the first “famous outdoor writer” that has paid you a visit in an attempt to upset your POACHING EMPIRE??  These writers are a dime a dozen I suppose…  and knocking one off is of little consequence when there is Empire at stake…  In medieval times, Big Mike would be Lord of his manor and no one would have dared suggest that he was doing anything untoward…  but of course these aren’t Medieval times, and we have to be accountable to all forces of correctness- political and otherwise…

Frankie, c’mon, man… Get yourself a subscription to Esquire or something…  Those mutton chops of yours are getting out of control!!  That’s quite a mouthful, though… “Big Mike Morrison’s Phony Hunting Lodge…”

There DOES seem to be all manner of smaller critter about, including rabbit and squirrel.  See Mr. Squirrel in panel one savor the thought of cracking into that nut- “No!  I won’t put this away for later!  I will not delay gratification!  Just this once I will EAT FOR TODAY!”  In the words of Dave Matthews, “Eat Drink and be Merry, for tomorrow we die…”

Note the picture of the Trail-head on the page in the second panel…  this is great.  Disguise?  I don’t need no stinking disguise.  Or, apparently you do, especially when you offer up your real name.  I mean, I mean what were you thinking mark?  Now you are found out!  But wait, why wouldn’t Trail want a trophy too?   Nice Nose, Big Mike…

Getting Otter Slime all over your nice V-Neck Sweater…  But then I suppose this is only to be expected from one who only can hope to follow in the footsteps of your hero and step-dad, MARK TRAIL… who, by the way is doing what right now?  Not checking in that’s for sure…  I am guessing a soldier overseas earning combat pay talks to his or her family more than Mark does…

Excuse me Smith?  YOUR story??  I guess you don’t know how this works, do you?  Oh I suppose you can take the LEGAL angle regarding Big Mike and his merry band while Mark extols the virtues of conservation and the moral and ecological impacts of Poaching…  Mind you, not a little poaching, to put a Opossum in the Stewpot,  but BIG TIME POACHING FOR PROFIT…  That’s the evil we are talking about here…

OK Smith, “Newspaper guy…” I am on to you!  Your green golf pants and lavender jacket need to come with me, sir…and what bizarre color scheme (or lack thereof) has overtaken Mr Rabbit???

Channeling Alan Hale, Jr., Rusty Calls out to “Little Buddy…” Something that the “Skipper” apparently has done in other roles throughout his storied career, most notably as the Captain of the S.S. Minnow on Gilligan’s Island…  And by the way, why on earth was it Gilligan’s?  That poor young man was blamed for EVERYTHING, sometimes well placed but other times not, and whose job is it to shoulder (not deflect) accountability in the maritime milieu?  The CAPTAIN, thank you very much…  Buck stops at the helm, etc… But I digress.

So one of the otters lives to tell the tale…  how gratifying.  Can’t wait for the next installment…

Add that to your portfolio of guilt and shame, like it’s YOUR fault that your father is a horrible, abusive alcoholic,  that your family is a mess, that you had to be rescued by a soulless Nature Writer and his sexually frustrated wife…  That you will never, ever go on a fishing trip, because, well you don’t DESERVE to go on one…

And as Jason Smith, Newspaper Guy, picks up an empty trap and considers its reckless power potential, he also knows that Mollie and Oscar are toast, heading for the pelt stretcher…  Oh but how to gain the trust of the little lad?  How to fill him with comfort and false hope, how to reach him where and how no one else can… OK, ewww…  this story is getting creepier by the day.

…since maybe Charlie Brown…  Honestly, I can’t even look away, it’s so round and bald…  and who told you Smith that it makes good sense to grow out the hair you DO have, to the point where your ears don’t even feature in the shot??  And what’s with your shirt collar?  You showed up at Lost Forest all casual-like with your top button unbuttoned, and now you are cinched up like a gunny-sack…  And Rusty, how about showing a little emotion here… “gee, I hope he doesn’t have Mollie or Oscar…”  Really, these are Your Otters!  The ones for whom you built a beautiful box, who healed in your sight!

We know that’s Frankie, though, by the cap… but, but, how can he be in two places at once?  How can he be guiding Mark on a Trophy Deer Hunt and cleaning out the stream of otters at the same time?  Does he have an evil twin?  Has Big Mike perfected cloning technology?

What green skies doth portend, young Rusty??  Oh, heavens… my worst fears are being realized!  Rusty is resplendent in his v-neck sweater and polo shirt (Lands’ End?) while Smith is in awe of the sheer expanse of the Lost Forest lands…

But there’s Frankie, (oops, almost stuck an “Ol’” in there)  shin deep in the stream, holding a sodden, drowned animal in his rapacious mitts… no doubt an otter…  but is it Mollie or Oscar??  But really, did we need Rusty to tell us what he is seeing??  Why not have him call out, “NOOOOO!!!!!” instead of the overly bland and stilted, “Oh look, there is a man pulling something otter-like out of the stream…”  c’mon Elrod, give your readers a little credit!

Creepy.  Seriously.  I mean, I know that this is a nature strip that needs to feature all manner of flora and fauna, and that the humans only feature in ways described as incidental, but it looks like they have been walking for days, to the land of the jack-rabbit and Ruffed-grouse…

“Sure Rusty, I can help, because you see I am friendless too.  I thought being a newspaper man would make me all the friends I would ever need, but it seems that no one ever wants to talk to me, since they are afraid that their words and their sorry little lives will somehow make it into print.  You have no idea how nice it is to be greeted so warmly by someone, but not just anyone, by you…”  ewwww…

Poor Rusty, the way that Doc and Cherry ignore him is positively criminal…  “Wish I knew how Mollie and Oscar are doing,” he says to no one in particular…“Oh, good, there’s that Newspaper guy, Jason Smith, and oh look at the green pants and lavender jacket he’s wearing…  I wonder where I could get an outfit like that???”

So, Smith, you have “come by” to see if there’s any word from Mark?  Ever heard of a telephone?  But then you wouldn’t be able to drop in and snoop around the Lost Forest compound… or show off your shiny bald head and new outfit!  Must be his day off, since he was all suited up the first time we met him.  And Rusty, what exactly are you doing in Panel three?  Extending your misshapen paw in greeting?  Running toward Smith even though he’s mere feet from you?  Trying not to fall over hanging onto the door jamb ?

Mollie (with an ‘ie’) and Oscar sure are cute, but one of them (really, I can’t tell them apart) is giving us the Ferris Bueller “mug for the camera” look…  “You think I am good a being an Otter?  Well, I ‘ve never had one lesson…”  But let’s take a minute and call out the various “locales” in this story line:  there’s the “river/ stream of death” made that way by none other than Frankie (also with an ‘ie’) the Henchman, there’s Lost Forest Proper, with Rusty Fretting and home-bound, Cherry not realizing that she has sentenced the poor Otters to a watery grave and a date with the skinning knife, and Big Mike’s “lodge” and hunting grounds which of course have been hunted to near extinction.  Of course that’s where Mark is, not near any of the real danger, just there pretending to be someone he’s not (but who, really, since his idea of a disguise is to put on a different colored jacket…)

But let us get back to the notion that there “aren’t any deer” at Big Mike’s…  Really, I mean they breed and multiply like so many rats or rabbits, cause untold amount of damage every year to property, and yet, there is a place where they simply cease to exist?  Huh.  Something else is afoot here,  that much I can tell you!

I can’t decide where I want this story to turn!  Who’s side am I on?  The brain freezes!

…and to use big words like ‘LEEWARD.’  So the name “Trail” sounds familiar, he ponders, with a rare appearance of a thought balloon, but then this isn’t Mark having a private thought it’s someone else…

Ol’ Mr Raccoon knows the score, though.  Not the slightest bit acclimated to humans, he is making tracks across the rocks away from nasty Ol’ Frankie… Or just Frankie.  He wouldn’t be “Ol’” since there isn’t a sympathetic or endearing bone in his evil body.  Or am I being too harsh?  Maybe he has redeeming qualities that have yet to be displayed…

Big Mike looks, well. Bigger…  Maybe this is the first full torso shot he have of him, but damn!  He IS BIG MIKE!!  Not only BIG Mike, but COCK-SURE MIKE.  Have you ever seen such bravado?

I think Frankie is the feckless Brother in Law… His wife made Brother Mike promise that he would keep Frankie gainfully employed… you know, a lifestyle maintained… all wrapped in otter pelts and such… So here he is, running from dawn to dawn, doing Big Mike’s bidding!

Still disappointed that Mark isn’t wearing at least a mustache…