We’ll never see the actual wedding. That would take planning and making decisions, which these two are incapable of. We’re left with the Dull Duo endlessly repeating the same schlock: “We’re getting married! I’m going to marry you!” What a big nothing this turned out to be. In characteristic fashion, KM’s ending 2022 with a whimper, not a bang.
I’d love to see a whole series of strips in which main characters are threatened with certain death, then miraculous escape.
For example, Saul and Eve have to deal with a pack of rabid dogs (Greta, Max, and Pierre) baying at their heels while clinging to the roof of the Charterstone gazebo. Mr. Allora shows up in the nick of time, wielding his mighty, mighty John Deere leaf blower.
Or, Toby is locked inside her broom closet while Ian simultaneously plays March of the Cameron Men on his bagpipes and breathes 180 proof gin fumes under the door (“Ah, how do ye like that, lass; I’ll wager ye expected the fine fresh scent of Auld Scotsman’s Theek!”). The UPS man intervenes with a cheery cry of “Package for Professor Cameron!” “Oh, Ay, is it the home baked neeps and tatties from me dear old mither Catriona?” “Nay, Prof, ‘tis a gross dozen of Auld Rancid Fart, your daily supply.” “Quick, Toby lass, let the man in.”
Or, Mary is dealing with a barrage of crank calls- Yes, my refrigerator is running. No, I don’t have Prince Albert in a can. No, I don’t need an extended warranty for my electric muffin press. Well, yes, I could use a new addition of How to Mind Other People’s Business. Yes, I’d love to see Aldo Kelrast driving like a madman…Wait just a dern minute! Is that you, Tommy Beedie?”
We’re getting married! I’m going to marry you, Iris. You and I are going to enter the state of holy matrimony. We shall be man and wife, woman and husband, a couple bonded by vows in a relationship recognized and sanctioned by both church and state. We'll be each other's old ball and chain. We'll be Mr. and Mrs. We're going to stand before that altar and say "I do." And best of all, we'll be able to file a joint tax return.
9 comments:
Please, Karen, June! Make it stop! This story is over. It was over weeks ago. No mas, por favor.
fauxprof, don't do it! You know they only want to make you grateful for the next Wilburstravaganza!
We’ll never see the actual wedding. That would take planning and making decisions, which these two are incapable of. We’re left with the Dull Duo endlessly repeating the same schlock: “We’re getting married! I’m going to marry you!” What a big nothing this turned out to be. In characteristic fashion, KM’s ending 2022 with a whimper, not a bang.
I’d love to see a whole series of strips in which main characters are threatened with certain death, then miraculous escape.
For example, Saul and Eve have to deal with a pack of rabid dogs (Greta, Max, and Pierre) baying at their heels while clinging to the roof of the Charterstone gazebo. Mr. Allora shows up in the nick of time, wielding his mighty, mighty John Deere leaf blower.
Or, Toby is locked inside her broom closet while Ian simultaneously plays March of the Cameron Men on his bagpipes and breathes 180 proof gin fumes under the door (“Ah, how do ye like that, lass; I’ll wager ye expected the fine fresh scent of Auld Scotsman’s Theek!”). The UPS man intervenes with a cheery cry of “Package for Professor Cameron!” “Oh, Ay, is it the home baked neeps and tatties from me dear old mither Catriona?” “Nay, Prof, ‘tis a gross dozen of Auld Rancid Fart, your daily supply.” “Quick, Toby lass, let the man in.”
Or, Mary is dealing with a barrage of crank calls- Yes, my refrigerator is running. No, I don’t have Prince Albert in a can. No, I don’t need an extended warranty for my electric muffin press. Well, yes, I could use a new addition of How to Mind Other People’s Business. Yes, I’d love to see Aldo Kelrast driving like a madman…Wait just a dern minute! Is that you, Tommy Beedie?”
Edition, not addition.
We’re getting married! I’m going to marry you, Iris. You and I are going to enter the state of holy matrimony. We shall be man and wife, woman and husband, a couple bonded by vows in a relationship recognized and sanctioned by both church and state. We'll be each other's old ball and chain. We'll be Mr. and Mrs. We're going to stand before that altar and say "I do." And best of all, we'll be able to file a joint tax return.
Well, no, I didn't think he said he was growing pot. But, you know, that would explain a lot.
All of this will be worth it if it ends with a reaction shot of Wilbur, hiding behind a bush and listening to this whole nauseating conversation.
Lofty New Year's resolution, Zak. "I want to keep going." As opposed to what? Stop going?
HelenClark
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