Looks like Mr. Elrod decided to buck the trend and wrap up this adventure by the end of the week. Guess he thought all of the smarmy bloggers would be too preoccupied with New Year's festivities to remember their obligation to smarm. Tough chutney, Jack-o. It's in the spirit of meritless vegeance that I present the second (and final) holiday recap of this flawed tale.
The unsteady pace of the narrative has thrown the aging process completely off-course, and it's taking a toll on Mark's face. Rounded, cherubic features wizen into an angular, pensive mess in but a panel's time. Plus, we learn that rural policemen wear blue cowboy hats.
Our woodsy journalist has got to be happy with the overall outcome of his kidnapping. Not only did he successfully escape his would-be deporters, but Mark even managed to conjure up some completely unfounded drug-smuggling accusations in the process. I looked back through my archives to find any hint of drug-related activity since the Ruffled Crotch Crew worked their way into the storyline. You know what I found?
Mark seems to be the only one lending any credence to his theory, without any hard evidence to back it up. In fact, December 31st is the first time drugs are ever mentioned. Not quite sure why Elrod thinks he can slip that by a devoted reader. There aren't exactly a lot of loose ends to tie up at the end of a Mark Trail adventure.
You know what else I discovered? Sue looks weird when she's patronizing people....
Pop masks the shame that comes with be a procrastinating, buggy-mistaking jerkfuck by surrounding himself with rabid animals and soon-to-be-rabid children...
and that's about it.
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