…because correct me if I’m wrong, but any respectable volcano eruption would have taken everything out by now… there wouldn’t be any time “to get Abbey and Mark.”  Oh, I’m sorry, that’s “Mark and Abbey…”  let’s not forget who the strip is named after…

At least Cal’s hat stayed on his head this time and didn’t get all animated and airborne…  Which is more than I can say for what’s bout to happen to the Hughes… anyone knows that volcanic ash and engines of any kind are not a great combination…  Nice to know you Cal.

Like an angry boil on Mother’s Bum, the magma has been released…  Suddenly the RIFAMOBP is of little or no concern as it will soon be covered in liquid hot magma…

But go where, Mark?  It was a perilous journey just to get where you are- ledges, ravines, Wild Boar, and that’s just what we know about… Perhaps Cal has take to the air and can hover on by and scoop them up… wouldn’t that be daring.  But nothing compared to the Nam… landing in in a rice paddy being strafed by 50mm weapons fire…

…if it’s the last thing we ever do…  I forgot what a great bass line this song has… and it’s funny to look at the gear… so simple!

Anyway, back to the Island Adventure…  As predicted, Mark is offering uber-obvious advice, but with a twist… apparently there is something more menacing that the thought of being overrun and stung to death by fire-ants…  Enraged ones, even…

What could be off-camera, stage left?  Again, the “there’s something behind the door and I need to know what it is” device…  Thank goodness tomorrow is Saturday and we will likely get an answer then.  And revel in the fact that we can all turn our clocks back an hour before we go to bed.  An extra hour to ponder the fate of Mark and Abbey and wonder what Cal and Cherry are up to, not to mention Doc, Rusty and Andy the St. Bernard back at Lost Forest…

Onomatopoeia on Parade, boys and girls…  too bad there isn’t sound associated with the comics, and we have to imagine all the other senses besides the visual… And speaking of visual, Abbey’s features continue to morph beyond the recognizable… what happened to the lithesome form that was gracing the beach, seemingly there to relax and enjoy a little “down-time?” Never mind that she was wearing the same ensemble that Honey was wearing and therefore created all sorts of confusion, later to be sorted out…

And how disappointing that Mark and Abby are not waist-deep in Fire-Ant Mound!  I was looking forward to Mark dishing useful advice like, “Abbey, get yourself away from the Ants!”or “Don’t let the ants sting you!”  such a wasted opportunity!

Seriously.  Check it out.  If this was you first encounter with Mark Trail, you’d have to say that Mark was tackling a guy in blue shorts and a yellow T-shirt…  But for those of us following this, (and heaven knows why we do…) we know that we are being treated to another example, a tired example, of Hero Mark saving the damsel…

And if I am not mistaken, they both have gone head-long into the FAMOBP!  (Fire Ant Mound of Biblical Proportion)  Oh bring on the stinging!  This ought to be good…

Abbey doesn’t realize how close she is to sweet release…  Her ticket out of this awful parallel existence… But it should be noted that Palm Trees are notorious killers…  they are top heavy and it’s not uncommon for the crown to come off and take out the unaware…

And Oh boy!  Mark has never looked so stern!  Like he’s actually mad or something… Heck, I’d be mad too if everywhere I went I had to battle for my life.  I’d start to wonder whether there was some force in the universe that had it out for me, whether my life was really just a big sketch being played out for the amusement of others…  but wait, Mark, that’s exactly what’s going on here.  And now you are being guided by a new-ish hand, one that is still doing his best to keep your life from going off the rails…

Oh, we’ve seen the RRRRRUUUUUMMMMMBBBBLLLLLEE before, may times, but apparently Mark knows his Rumbles, and this is not an earthquake variety Rumble… and either Mark is choosing to not look at Abbey which he is admonishing her, or she has moved, in mid-sentence, from Mark’s port to Mark’s starboard side…

Dollars to donuts, Cal is in the air by now… he has his investment to protect, and since he has every passenger execute a lengthy waiver of liability, he is certainly held harmless against any stupid acts that a client might engage in…

But really, folks, here we go again… Man (and woman) against Nature.  We know that she can be a cruel mistress, a bitch even, but this got old two stories ago.

In the old days (and yes I am old enough to know about them…) Mark never went on assignment without a camera- I mean, how are you going to entice readers with mere words?  No matter how eloquently you might describe a world-record-breaking ant hill, a picture is going to bring it all home…  It suddenly occurred to to me that Mark has been (I think) camera-less in all the Allen inspired stories…

But sure as shootin’, this is the mother of all ant hills…  compared to what one typically sees in Nature…

So Maybe these aren’t your garden-variety Red Imported Fire Ants…  Maybe they are a new strain, one that will threaten the world if they ever got off the island…  OK, I know… I’m just trying to manufacture a little tension here.

Just like the most interesting thing to a dog is what’s on the other side of a closed door, we are constantly told to wait and wonder what’s in the next panel, the one that will appear the following day.  It’s a device, not an an especially clever one, that will keep a story moving, and readers coming back, I suppose…  But what is it that Abbey is seeing?  Did Cal set himself on fire along with his chopper?  Is there a tribe of native islanders looking for their next meal? (OK, I have no knowledge that the Hawaiian people, of any sort, were cannibals…)

But if it’s as big and obvious as Abbey is making out (again, without the aid of her necessary, pre-scription eye-glasses) then why does she even need to point out the “menace?”

Thanks for the comment that what we have experienced since Cherry had the good sense to not get in the Helicopter with Mark and Cal has taken maybe a couple of hours in real time, but has stretched out 40 days.  So, no, boys and girls, you aren’t just imagining the “James Allen Effect,” you are, in fact, living it.

And for what it’s worth, screw the ants…  I mean, really?

Once again we are led into a situation on a wild hare (or is it hair??)  Bats?  Let’s witness some human trafficking, get shot at and go get lost in a cave system… RIFA’s?  Let’s leave poolside and the resort with the 600 thread-count sheets, charter a Helicopter, climb to the top of something, get charged by a Wild Boar, climb up a dead tree and then fall 100 feet into 12 inches of water, head first, appear unscathed and move on…  to what end? I ask… To what end?  <<COUGH>> indeed…

Mark, in panel two, is going for humor again, an indefatigable mixture of the dry and ironic… 2 out of 5 Elrods for that…… mostly for effort.

Than you Reader Richard…  you noticed that I did not post on 10/25…

But I digress . . . So either our intrepid blogger missed reviewing a day’s installment – a rip in the Trail universe’s space-time continuum, as it were – or I have become entirely too obsessed with the twists and turns of this nightmare/fantasy such that my subconscious has started making up more bizarro-world stuff in order to see if it just might come true, just as I have done with the presidential election.

Funny how this happens, I guess… I read the Trail, I start the post, and if nothing comes, I move onto the day’s news, bleary and depressing as it is these days.  Then I look at the time, realize that I need to go take my turn at the wheel, and off I go.  Normally I remember this and make up for it the next day with a two-fer, but not this time.

So yes, my comments this morning must have seemed a bit off, since I had not yet posted the installment featuring the death (or at least a C-5 fracture of the spinal column) of our in-over-her-head USDA agent…

…and what’s with the Buster Brown Shoes, Mark??

As Mark exclaims to no one in particular, Abbey has found another random “ridge” to fall down/into…  And is Mark purposely allowing himself to slide into the same ridge?  Or is it simply another stroke of bad luck?  The kind that befalls people that don’t know when it’s best chill out by he pool and actually take a vacation.  But of course where’s the adventure in that?  And since our scribe has no skills other than drawing, (remember this is what he claims to like best about his current job,) we’ll continue to be subjected to awkward and incomprehensible story arcs…

So as Gravity takes a hold of the Trail, maybe tomorrow we’ll find out if Abbey’s headlong plunge into a shallow creek bed has rendered her, well, dead…  We can  only hope for the real Abbey Powell (@realabbeypowell) that she has been released from this purgatory…

Seriously?

A new hole in which to fall?  Can’t be the ravine… that was a way’s  back, I think…  Maybe the real Abbey (@realabbeypowell) will get her wish- to be written out of the strip.

Well at least the tree was dead… that would explain how the boar managed to take it out with a single shot.  And Boar don’t climb tree… that much also make sense… Ugh, me Tarzan, or what??

And it’s another convenient excuse to waste an entire day on a single panel shot…

I love the comments about what must be happening back at the resort…  Cherry finally satisfied after learning what the term “full service” actually means…

… but that’s sure what it looks like in the first panel… with the boar’s two hind legs in unison… and what’s with the back?  Looks like it’s exploding/coming apart and something is emerging.  yuk.  And what are you thinking Mark?  That the Boar only had it out for the tree?

But what’s up with this tree?  Really?  Must have been compromised to begin with otherwise a single Boar strike couldn’t possible bring it down… but at least there are people there, so it’s free to make a noise…

And enough already with the advice!  Mark, keep it to yourself!  Depending on whether Abbey is on the windward or leeward side of the falling tree, she might just NOT want to “Hang on…”  Again, “Everyone into the cave!” comes to mind.  And Abbey, why REMARK when it’s time to REACT!?

Another spellbinder!  I can hardly stand it!!

How about threatened?  Maybe there’s a den of little Boar-lets nearby.  Protecting territory is as old as time.  This has to be the slowest wild boar on record though… based on the videos posted, Mark would have been gored in the knee before he could say “What th—”

But how does a shoulder bag, securely around Abbey’s neck and shoulder, suddenly fall to the ground??

As the Wild Boar charges, Mark apparently still has time to dish out the most obvious of directives…  And bless his heart, Mark is only concerned for Abbey’s safety…  Once again, though, Mark’s instincts are dangerous- and only serve to put himself and his companions in jeopardy.

But let’s think for a moment about the wild boar- isn’t that also an invasive species?  What the hell is it doing on an “unstable atoll?”  According to the Wiki, we have the early explorers to thank for this… releasing domesticated pigs on purpose in order that future expeditions would have a readily huntable food supply…  I have also learned that a group of wild pigs is called a sounder…  let’s hope they don’t run into one of those…

In unrelated news, I discovered yesterday why watching football  on TV is so incredibly frustrating, aside from the fact that my team, the Green Bay Packers, and Aaron Rodgers in particular, is becoming the greatest disappointment in the league…

The fact that a game will take 3 hours of your life away from you, and only 6% of that time will be spent actually watching football players playing football.  That more time is spent watching replays than actual action.  That over a full hour of that 3 hours will be spent watching commercials… often the same damn ones over, and over, and over again…  Think about it.  If you really valued your time, you could watch an entire football game’s worth of actual action in 11 minutes.  Eleven minutes.  Of course I have devoted days’ worth of my life to this blog, so I’m not sure what that says about me…  choices, I guess.

And put us all out our collective misery…  and then we can follow Cherry as she re-establishes her life without the Trail… or not…

Never mind the fact that the blue that Mark puts in his hair is now running down his forehead… or that the wild boar looks more like a man in a boar suit, (Check the hind quarters- suspiciously homo-sapiens,) not unlike the RoUS’s (Rodents of Unusual Size) in The Princess Bride…  And “GROUGH…” Is that the sound that the Boar is making or the sound of vegetation being disturbed?  No doubt, though, these beasts are prone to charge!  It’s a miracle that more hunters don’t get shot in this sport…

With the fallen tree encouraging Abbey on, how could she possibly fall??  And for that matter the tree needs to learn a little grammar… “You’re doing good?”  How about you’re doing “well?”

To quote a spot-on comment from the last day or two, Abbey seems to have acquired acrophobia just in time to make it difficult to cross the chasm by way of the log…  she had no problem scampering up the mountainside going after the Finch.

But wait, Abbey, Mark’s Spidey-sense is tingling… What could it be?  Could it be Cal, who found a shorter way up the mountain that didn’t involve death defying maneuvers?

OK, Sweetheart, you are stealing a classic Trail verbal response, “Hungh?” right from under the chin of Trail himself.  Just like “huh?” but with a more guttural quality, coming from the abdomen.  Sort of like an Alpha Silverback protecting its boundaries…

As Mark leads with his chin, having no clue what challenge might be ahead, Abbey remains ever in the background… what is this, 1956?

As Abbey expresses her reluctance to make a death defying walk across a fallen tree spanning a crevasse of unknown (unknowable?) depths, her mettle is tested…  And Mark is, in a way, daring her to do so… to what end?  Is this the same as people climbing Everest- because it’s there?  Run 100 mile races- because they can?  I’ve noticed among the many bromides that crawl their way into my Facebook feed, “Do something every day that scares you…”  The point of which, I suppose, is to not allow yourself to fall into a rut.

But when does a comfortable routine become a rut?  When does a person get so comfortable in that rut that they start to decorate and re-decorate that rut, convincing themselves that it’s all good?

So go on, Abbey, live!  Even at the behest of Mark Trail!  I’m guessing it will give your pulse a race and stop and start your heart a few times… but you will learn that chances not taken are opportunities missed!