OK, we get the joke.  It took an entire (two?) week(s) to tell it!!

But seriously.  What is that perched on the Magnolia branch overlooking Lost Forest?  At first I’d say Eagle or some kind of Raptor, but look at the bill… It’s almost Toucan-like… Is there some kind of Genetic Engineering going on the stables?

Now we find ourselves, ABR (All But Rusty, the natural state,) out on the Porch continuing to listen in on Doc’s conversation…

But isn’t it know in these parts that Doc is a teetotaler?  Pretty sure he never touches the stuff… but then one never knows what goes on behind closed doors… heck, with all that space, they could easily be shining… At least that would explain where they get the money to sustain what appears to be a life of perpetual leisure…

And as Mark and Cherry listen in on Doc’s conversation, we see them decked out in L.L. Bean’s finest… Cherry in the Women’s Premium Double L Polo in Cardinal Red, Mark in the Men’s Signature 1933 Chamois Cloth Shirt, slim fit…  You, too can dress and look like Cherry and Mark, gang, but get yours quick!  They are going like hotcakes!!

Aren’t the Trail/ Davises the law in these parts?  Wouldn’t authorities be calling them if they were the ones to spy these interlopers, especially of the four-legged and winged variety??

So as Doc describes a Seussian scene right out of Mulberry Street to some unnamed authority, we have to ask this question:  How long with this scene be milked in the name of (ahem) sustaining a daily commitment to fill the paper with a storyline that will continue to beguile and intrigue??  That is the hallmark of the Allen regime… No idea is banal enough to not let it play out for weeks into months, all in the name of not having to compose and follow an actual plot line…

And Mark!  What’s all this then?  Lost Forest used to be a sanctuary where you could return from your exploits, tell your tales, lick your wounds and recharge your batteries…  You are being invaded my friend!  And let me remind us all of the way that Mark has suffered at the hands of James Allen from the get-go!  From day one under this sadistic pen, Allen had Mark, with a separated shoulder, treed by a bear and forced to spend the night there!

And thanks, Mark for bringing up that awful memory of the Dinosaur Dream!  That was the day I was supposed to go fishing…  although there wasn’t any actual footage of the same…  Supposedly I caught more fish than you did… That was back in the Elrod days…

But now the shamed and emotionally thrashed Rusty is turning to exhibit ‘A’ … the apples…  as Mark looks on in disbelief.  Even Ol’ Andy is getting in on the caper!

What, you go out to pick some apples for your breakfast and you fall asleep?  I think there’s something seriously wrong, here!  You been digging into Doc’s Medicine Cabinet again??  You know that those pills are for animals, right, Rusty??

And yes, we remembered the Dinosaurs…  At least a week ago…

At least Mark has a smile on his face…

Boy, are Mark and Cherry going to be surprised when Doc comes in and declares that there is an ostrich-riding monkey on the premises…  Crow anyone!?

But seriously… are Rusty’s ears getting bigger?

And why is he being shamed into a confession that he knows is not necessary?  Poor lad…  C’mon, Rusty… Boy-up!  Tell Mark and Cherry where they can stick their doubts!

Howler Monkey?   Maybe…

But clearly a strong F-U from our non-native, invasive friends…

An ill-tempered, flightless bird and a primate with a Napoleon complex… I’d be checking myself, too!

This is great- the familiar juxtaposed with the exotic…  The monkey’s little coat (with shoulder boards) and fez is a winning touch!  Not to mention the well-rendered ostrich…  Doc has to be wondering what’s in his coffee!!

In two days we have been treated to a Hungh!? and now a What Th-!? Does it get any better than this?  And does an Ostrich really make the GROO GROO GROOOOOO sound?  Apparently so…

In other news (The Minneapolis Star Tribune to be exact…)  there is a real-life case making the news that is eerily familiar…

Look at the Burns…  Can you say Dirty Dyer??

This is great!  Rusty needs a witness and looks like Doc is going to get in on the hallucinations…  Lord only knows what is making this GROO GROO sound…

It’s difficult to see what Doc is reading in the Daily Journal, but judging by the column spacing, I’d say he’s scanning the obituaries… Checking to see if he’s in there!!  Ha!

I still have money on the circus train…

As Rusty spills his news, he continues to be greeted with ridicule and scorn…

…and unless he has a history of spewing un-truths, the reaction seems a bit harsh…

So repeat after me…

There are no Giraffes in Lost Forest,

There are NO Giraffes in Lost Forest,

There are NO Giraffes in Lost Forest…

I guess we’ll never know just how intensely Rusty “interrupted” Mark and Cherry, but you can bet that he will think twice about speaking without being spoken to first!  Yikes!

Now that Mark has regained his composure and Cherry has remained off-camera in order to gather herself, we are now on the slow roll that lets Rusty reveal what it is he’s seen!  Only to the inevitable dismissals and denials of Mark, who couldn’t possibly wrap his head around this news…

Today’s strip reveals much…  Rusty returns from his apple picking to innocently request that his adoptive parents come check out the wonder he has seen…

But look at the scowl on Mark’s face in panel one!  Cherry’s pursed lips!  It’s like the mere presence of this lad puts them immediately off their feed!  The center panel confirms this and reveals a stern and crabby response from Cherry… What is it NOW??? Huh??  The beleaguered Rusty, apparently used to this, simply lowers his visage and beseaches his keepers to stay with him…

Sorry, but for all the ribbing we give him, it appears that Rusty truly does live in a cage, literal or metaphorical…

Remember when Rusty went “fishing” and had vivid dreams about Dinosaurs?

I’m still not convinced that this whole “Giraffe” thing isn’t a figment of his imagination… When a child is subjected to the trauma that Rusty surely was and placed into the hands of indifferent caregivers, it’s not surprising that he creates his own realities!

“Mark, Cherry!…  I mean, Mom, Dad!  There’s Giraffes in the apple orchard!!”  This ought to be good!

Really?

When the going gets weird, the weird turn pro… So sayeth Hunter S. Thompson, father of Gonzo Journalism…  Are we sure Rusty isn’t tripping here?  He is left (mostly) to his own devices these days, and there’s no telling what he’s getting into.

Could it have something to do with the Tingling Brothers Circus closing up? Maybe the Circus Train broke down somewhere in / near the Chattahoochee National Forest where this all resides… Just trying to connect some dots here, people…

As the Giraffe of unknown provenance digs into the pail of apples, we must continue to scratch our collective heads as to what is going on here…  clearly the the giraffe is an escaped animal from either a public or private menagerie…  the natural range for these animals being the savannas of Africa…

But how big is this creature? A Giraffe skull for sale (really?!) indicates that the head is about 2 feet long, about 6 hands worth… but you could fit easily twice as many Rusty-hands along the length of the giraffe head in panel 2…

And how can the Trails go to Mexico with a Giraffe running loose on the preserve?  This demands answers!!

OK, in my haste last night I missed the outline of two slender fore-legs of some creature…

How silly of me!

And it looks like George Atkins nailed that one…  A giraffe indeed!  By now rusty must be wondering if he ate a magic mushroom or something!

No comment on Rusty… poor lad…

But back to the word species… Is it spee-sees, Or  spe-shees?  Gro-sher or gro-ser? I am going to the gro-sher-ee store to speak to the Gro-ser about carrying a better brand of coffee…  seems no one makes the call here…  I prefer to avoid the ‘sh’ sound, but then I tend to notice and worry about things that don’t really matter…

…but when I do, I prefer the ones that are already rotting on the ground…

Rusty, Rusty, Rusty… Where have you been?  Where did you get that new… um… look?  You are the only person I know who sits on the ground in order to pick apples…  and has managed to gain the ripe old age of what?  10?  And not understand that the world is governed, really, by one thing- GRAVITY!  But we know that you have spent too much time in the Trailverse by uttering the time-honored, “Hungh!?”