As their plane wings its way out of Hartsfield-Jackson Atlanta International Airport, Cherry reminds Mark of an adventure that he’d just as soon forget…
As Mark recalls the horrors of being trapped by flowing lava and being forced to cliff-jump into the sea, all the color drains from his face and he suddenly appears gaunt and wan… While all Cherry remembers is ordering up Mai-tais by the pool and that shirtless, conch-blowing cabana boy…
Fashion police are everywhere! You never know!!
But what will be equally surprising is when they try to clear customs and realize that they forgot to get Rusty a Passport! But, true that they probably couldn’t clear the security line stateside without proof that they were going to be good on the other end…
But certainly we who dwell in the BOLD NORTH (no longer the MIDWEST) can only dream of an expat life where the only threats are Hurricanes and a periodic bout with Tourista…
So… it appears that they are going to be hitting up all the tourist traps, even the ones that are ostensibly historical…
And if I wanted to be schooled, I would be focusing on the Sunday installment of Mark Trail, not the dailies… Yet here we are being instructed on the pre-historic cities, structures and people of Central America… But with these clues, it looks like they are heading to the Yucatan Peninsula… Cancun? Cozumel? Some rustic fishing village where Mark has an old friend that will put them up in hammocks for cheap?
A return to all that is good in the world! White folks going on Spring Break! And Why aren’t they dressed up? Why are they still in their work-a-day cabin apparel? Where’s your suit and tie, Mark?
Mark sounds almost surprised to have stumbled upon their departure gate, and Rusty is agog over the scale of the operation… Mark and Cherry really need to let that lad out of his cage more often… But is Rusty being sincere or attempting a joke in the second panel? Difficult to tell!! Nevertheless, Mark offers a genuine grin at his naive comment…
Question is now how do they run into Dirty?? Or vice versa? Sure they are in the same hemisphere now, but still worlds apart… a seismic (literally) shift in the Earth’s plates will bring the Caribbean in contact with Central America? Only in the Trailverse…
Yesterday we learned that the other Mister Smith has a familiar name…
From Moss Moses:
Manuel Blanco Romasanta is Spain’s first documented serial killer. In 1853 Romasanta admitted to thirteen murders, claiming he was not responsible as he was suffering from a curse that turned him into a wolf. Wikipedia
Born: November 18, 1809, Province of Ourense, Spain
Died: December 14, 1863, Ceuta, Spain
From Bryant, Esq.:
I detect unplumbed depths in our Mr. Allen, based upon his sly reference to the unnatural amidst his detailed depiction of the natural.
Your reference to Dirty, like the pelican (definitely not a heron), having bitten off more than he could chew is even more perspicacious than might be evident. Romasanta, a/k/a the Wolf of Allariz a/k/a the Tallow Man, confessed at his trial to a spot of cannibalism in addition to making candles of the fat of his victims, pleading not guilty because he had been cursed and committed his murders of various salesmen, officers and customers only during his intermittent involuntary transformations into a werewolf.
http://www.theparanormalguide.com/blog/manuel-blanco-romasanta-the-werewolf-of-allariz
So now that we know that the other Mr. Smith is either a demon or a time-traveler, or is taking inspiration from the past, the plot both confuses and gels simultaneously…
And as the increasingly bulked-up Dirty “Call me Mr. Smith” Dyer orders another round from the taciturn Semo, along with multiple platters, all charged to yet another unknown character, is he still looking to impress, planning to entertain, or simply gorge himself?
Dirty seems so incredibly pleased with himself these days. No questioning, no remorse over recent events… never mind that he is probably a wanted man after the authorities found King Tut dead in his office… All bulked up and smiling like he’s got the world by the tail…
All I can say is that the pelican or egret or whatever it is in panel three had better get ready for a long period of awful digestion… I really don’t think that iguana is going to go down or process very well… a great metaphor for Dirty- probably biting off more than he can chew!
I guess there’s only one name to use when you aren’t using your real name… Smith!
But for all we know this fellow’s real name might be Smith… one never knows in these circles of intrigue… And Dirty keeps throwing money around… other than the contents of the safe, does he have other evil enterprises earning him additional dollars? Sort of like Virtucon, the front for Dr. Evil?
He’s adulting and set on building a squad… starting with an Executive Assistant! That’s the easiest way to promote oneself… form your own company! File the LLC and boom! You’re your own boss! Even if that’s a little Sus…
Throwing cash around like he has it to throw around! Lookin’ for a little Respeck! Plus a Rad and Savage “burner cell phone,” right out of the pages of Breaking Bad! Gus and others would go through one or two an episode! Little flip phones that they would snap in half and throw away after finishing a conversation to avoid detection and traceability… the production company probably bought them by the gross…
Other observations… Nipples. You don’t see them often in the comics, there they are… once you see them, you can’t avert your gaze. Amiright? Dirty’s and Semo’s physiques. They are getting more swol by the day. That grin. If that isn’t shade, I don’t know what is! The eyepatch… on fleek!
Finally, in an attempt to appeal to the Millennial Generation, and the vernacular that goes with them, I’m done chillin for now on the Trail, and it’s time to bounce… if you want to know what the heck I’m saying, go here…
What is his supposed pedigree? Upon the word of a waiter (or, hey, he might be the proprietor…) he gets an invite to Valhalla for the Angry and Disenfranchised Rich?
Just who is this resident? A former mercenary? Roland the Headless Thompson Gunner? Former CIA a la Mitch Rapp?
And why, for the love of Mike, do we have words like discreet? And its cousin discrete? Complete Homonyms, or homographs re-ordering two letters at the end, resulting in completely different meanings?? Pity the soul who has to learn English as a second language! We claim to live by rules and laws, but as with most things in life, we are governed by the exceptions!
As we are drawn by intrigue (dare I admit it?) over what is going on here, we are brought closer to the conversation and potentially the inner workings of the Dirty Mind…
Let’s see… vamos a ver… Weapons for Dummies (doesn’t exist,) Calvin and Hobbes (pick one, right?) and To Serve Man… which apparently is a cookbook? So this fellow addressing Dirty isn’t just any service industry lackey, he obviously has multiple useless degrees under his belt and looks for opportunities to… well… “show off” a bit…
With the help playing the role of the messenger, and getting a dressing down for his trouble, Chris “Dirty” Dyer is relaxing and resting up for a big event… “a special occasion” funded by the gold bars in King Tut’s carelessly left open safegold bars in King Tut’s carelessly left open safe…
But Gunshots in the Jungle? Didn’t Dirty allude to going someplace for “training?” Wouldn’t that allow someone to fire off rounds with impunity?
…we really prefer that our guests wear clothing… If it’s a nude beach you want, it’s at the other end of the island…
Knife throwing! Ha! Will the gags never end?! For what it’s worth, though, looks like Ol’ Dirty has gotten pretty good at it if the target in the background is any indication…
Ah, at last. we are removed from Lost Forest and deposited on what appears to be a tropical island complete with Seabirds, a too-close-for-comfort prop jet and a distant shot of a man being served… Dirty Dyer under a particularly creative alias…
Harbour Island, Bahamas… boy what I wouldn’t give to be there after the 20″ of snow that has been deposited in the Twin Cities over the weekend!
I wonder what’s in a “Gun Club Punch…” Rum, to be sure…
Vacation! That’s right! Enter Dirty Dyer!! That has to be the plan…
Hopefully we wrap up this little Lost Forest turned Circus interlude… With the laconic and dour Jim returned (battered but not bowed,) Marlin smiling despite all the paperwork he’ll have to complete to account for the totaled Jeep, Warden Dusty looking on in simian fashion, and the fez and vest sporting Ostrich Jockey in the tree getting ready to hurl excrement, Mark explains that he has a “Long Overdue” (read “Well Deserved”) vacation on the docket… And looks a little disappointed about it?
But wait, has Jim’s Stick grown?
Draw, James, draw!
Because that’s about all we have going for us these days… Mr. Allen’s ability to create reasonable representations of animals in action… Manufactured suspense, lack of continuity and bad punchlines fill out the rest of the program.
How did Marlin get back? What of his totaled Jeep? Where is Jim and his pointed stick? And where on earth did the Wardens get that Hippo collar and chain? And what’s it attached to? That Hippo would only have to give a small shrug, and whatever is mooring that would come apart! We only have to go back to Africa and the Rhino Horn Caper to see this Hippo’s cousin, whom (which?) Mark dispatches with… wait for it… a flaming log! But what about Dirty Dyer… Where is he?!
But figuratively speaking, I’ve had to deal with a lot of enraged Rhinos in my life…
OK, let’s take stock of the situation… The Rhino is down, for now… but will awake at some point. Marlin’s Jeep is overturned and undrivable. Jim hasn’t been seen since he went into the thicket with his pointed stick. And all Mark can say is “I’ll meet you two back at camp?” What an ASS! Seriously. So you can what? Tell your version of the lusty tale without the chance of anyone stepping on your glory?!
But how nice to include just a spec of color in the first frame! For those of us living in the BOLD BORTH, where we live a constant reminder to never take spring and summer for granted, we appreciate any hint that bulbs actually flower!
As Marlin emerges from the smoldering wreck that was the Zoo-Jeep, his silhouette is vaguely reminiscent of that early 80’s classic Swamp Thing… And Mark, why are you thinking to yourself, but then talking out loud? Are we back to the Trail standard of the vocalized inner monologue?
But let’s get back to the REAL question: What use would a circus have with a Rhinoceros? They don’t socialize particularly well, and I’d be hard pressed to figure out what kind of “act” might involve one… And in the circus, every mouth to feed has to to earn its keep, right? I mean, this guy (or gal) would eat body weights in food-stock, and that costs money! Not to mention just taking up space- like an entire train-car’s worth! And where would one find or post for a Rhino-Wrangler? Monster.com?
So as Cherry tools around in her Escalade, Doc sips his coffee and Rusty still wonders where his apple infused flapjacks are, we are left to boggle at the action that just transpired and is the new norm in Mark Trail… Even in Lost Forest, there’s nary a dull moment!
What chance would a Zebra have against a Rhino, anyway? Hopefully they have Farmers Insurance! Seen it, covered it…
With wheels, struts, tie rods and other linkage flying about, there’s only one man who can save us now!! It’s Mighty Mark!!
Boy, Mark, that’s a lot to be processing inside your head all at once… you even managed to fit some care and concern for your fellow man in there… Weird.
Jim Jim is my name and spanking Rhinos is my game… Ha!!
THWACK!
I think someone in the comments brought up the fact that these tranquilizer darts are exactly fast-acting… This Rhino, for instance, even if Mark was able to get a shot off and place the dart perfectly, would be able to take out an entire village before it was slowed down… So yes, Marlin, you and your Jeep are in a bad spot… Prepare to be launched!!
For pure comic relief check out the effects on Ace Ventura, or for a demonstration of what comes up when one googles “tranquilizing a rhino” see this.
As we peer through the windscreen at Mark and Marlin, the plot is fixing to proof… We see Sidekick Jim (Sideshow Bob?) walking into the thicket armed with nothing more than his wooden poker.
Besides, Mark, I don’t think Marlin is sending Jim anywhere… I think that Jim is a master of his own free will and destiny… he chooses to go where Marlin goes and lives by simple rules… Say little, wear khaki, carry a pointed stick.
The Daily Trail 