| MiSTed: The Tale of Fatty Coon, Part I ( 1 / 1 ) [message #334966] |
Sat, 31 December 2016 03:27 |
nebusj-
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[ SEASON TEN opening. ]
[ 1... 2... 3... 4... 5... 6... ]
[ SATELLITE OF LOVE. TOM is reading a newspaper and chuckling as MIKE and CROW enter. ]
TOM: Hee heee!
MIKE: What's up there, Thomas?
CROW: He finally noticed they print the 'Jumble' answers upside-down.
TOM: I'm now a happy subscriber to the Ironic Comics page.
[ MIKE takes the paper from TOM's hands. CROW peeks at a corner, letting the paper flap over his beak. ]
TOM: 'Beetle Bailey' as Wagnerian opera! Fred Basset portrayed by a very long duck! 'The Lockhorns' with neither lock nor horn!
MIKE: Hey, I like this Clip-Art 'Cathy'. She married Irving Berlin.
CROW: Wait, this is just 'Henry'. What's ironic about that?
TOM: What's *not* ironic about 'Henry'?
[ MADS sign flashes. ]
MIKE: Ahp. Agatha Crumm is calling.
[ CASTLE FORRESTER. PEARL, PROFESSOR BOBO, and the OBSERVER are at a table. ]
OBSERVER: I love 'For Better Or For Worse, And It Turns Out, Worse.' [ To PEARL's withering indifference. ] It puts at the end of every strip Anthony whining how 'I have no home!'
PEARL: OK, Mark Trail. We've tried everything to break your spirits. We've tried bad movies.
BOBO: We've tried telephones!
PEARL: We've tried fan fiction.
OBSERVER: We've tried advertisements!
PEARL: We've tried the most Ruby-Spearsish Hanna-Barbera Christmas specials!
BOBO: I love that one with Goober and Gumdrop!
OBSERVER: Now let's try ... young-reader animal fantasy!
PEARL: Your experiment for today is the first five chapters of Arthur Scott Bailey's 1915 piece of ouvre _The Tale of Fatty Coon_.
BOBO: See if you learn something special from all this adorable animal fantasy!
[ SATELLITE OF LOVE. MOVIE SIGN and general chaos. ]
MIKE: Oh, no! Animal fantasy!
TOM, CROW: AAAAGH!
[ 6... 5... 4... 3... 2... 1.. ]
[ THEATER. ALL file in. ]
> SLEEPY-TIME TALES
TOM: So ... uh ... good night?
> THE TALE OF FATTY COON
CROW: From Buster Keaton through learning there *is* such a thing as bad publicity.
> BY ARTHUR SCOTT BAILEY
TOM: o/` Arthur was born just a plain simple man o/`
> ILLUSTRATED BY HARRY L. SMITH
> NEW YORK
MIKE: Illustrated by Harry L Smith and the New York dancers!
>
> 1915
> I
>
> FATTY COON AT HOME
TOM: Just sitting around the home ...
>
> Fatty Coon was so fat and round
CROW: Oh come *on*.
MIKE: Man, 1915 and they're ahead of our lead joke.
> that he looked like a ball of
> fur, with a plumelike tail for a handle. But if you looked at him
> closely you would have seen a pair of very bright eyes watching you.
CROW: From the tail?
TOM: Raccoons can see very well through their handles.
>
> Fatty loved to eat.
CROW: And that's all the personality he'll need!
MIKE: Pretty much all the personality I have.
> Yes---he loved eating better than anything
> else in the world. That was what made him so fat.
TOM: 'I'm getting ready to hibernate for winter!'
CROW: 'It's May.'
TOM: 'I don't want to get caught by surprise.'
> And that, too, was
> what led him into many adventures.
CROW: Like the adventure of Waffle House At 3 am.
MIKE: Taking his life and his maple syrup into his own paws.
>
> Close by a swamp, which lay down in the valley, between Blue
> Mountain and Swift River,
TOM: Burger King on the right and if you come to the old middle school you've gone too far.
> Fatty Coon lived with his mother and his
> brother and his two sisters.
CROW: And his mayonnaise.
> Among them all there was what grown
> people call "a strong family resemblance," which is the same thing as
> saying that they all looked very much alike.
TOM: What, because all raccoons look the same to you?
> The tail of each one of
> them---mother and children too---had six black rings around it. Each of
> them had a dark brown patch of fur across the face, like a mask.
MIKE: _Clonus: The Ranger Rick Project_.
> And---what do you think?---each of them, even Fatty and his brother and
> his sisters, had a stiff, white moustache!
CROW: This is getting near body shaming, Mister Arthur Scott Bailey.
>
> Of course, though they all looked so much alike, you would
> have known which was Mrs. Coon, for she was so much bigger than her
> children.
TOM: And she had that ISO 9000 consulting job for Lockheed.
> And you would have known which was Fatty---he was so much
> rounder than his brother and his sisters.
CROW: And he had a bear claw in his mouth.
MIKE: The pastry?
CROW: We'll see.
>
> Mrs. Coon's home was in the hollow branch of an old tree.
TOM: They were the first wave of gentrification moving in.
MIKE: Classic cycle. Starving artists, hipsters, raccoons, rents go up.
> It
> was a giant of a tree---a poplar close by a brook which ran into the
> swamp---and the branch which was Mrs. Coon's home was as big as most
> tree-trunks are.
MIKE: Look, it's a tree, all right? I'm Arthur Scott Bailey, I got bigger fish to fry than specifying poplar trees.
>
> Blackie was Fatty's brother---for the mask on his face was just
> a little darker than the others'.
TOM: *Blackie* Coon?
MIKE: Oh dear Lord.
> Fluffy was one of Fatty's sisters,
> because her fur was just a little fluffier than the other children's.
TOM: *Fluffy* Coon?
CROW: When Andrew WK visits Anthrocon?
> And Cutey was the other sister's name, because she was so quaint.
TOM: I feel like I need to apologize and I don't even know who to.
>
> Now, Fatty Coon was forever looking around for something to
> eat.
MIKE: 'Here's a thing!' (Gulp)
TOM: 'That's a vase!'
MIKE: Needs honey mustard.'
> He was never satisfied with what his mother brought home for him.
CROW: 'Crawdads and berries *again*?'
MIKE: 'No, this is berries and Crawdads.'
> No matter how big a dinner Mrs. Coon set before her family, as soon as
> he had finished eating his share Fatty would wipe his white moustache
> carefully---for all the world like some old gentleman---and hurry off in
> search of something more.
MIKE: 'Fatty, that's a rock.'
CROW: 'That's a rock with ranch dressing.'
>
> Sometimes he went to the edge of the brook and tried to catch
> fish by hooking them out of the water with his sharp claws.
TOM: 'Best case scenario, I catch a snack. Worst case, I touch a goldfish. Either way, a win!'
> Sometimes
> he went over to the swamp and hunted for duck among the tall reeds.
CROW: 'Hey, a little deep frying and these reeds would be good.'
> And though he did not yet know how to catch a duck, he could always
> capture a frog or two; and Fatty ate them as if he hadn't had a
> mouthful of food for days.
MIKE: 'If I eat enough frog maybe a duck will crawl into my mouth and see what's going on!'
>
> To tell the truth, Fatty would eat almost anything he could
> get---nuts, cherries, wild grapes,
TOM: Boring, straight-laced actuary grapes.
> blackberries, bugs, small snakes,
CROW: Large but depressed snakes.
> fish, chickens,
MIKE: Buckets of fried dough.
> honey---there was no end to the different kinds of food
> he liked.
TOM: I believe you, sugar.
> He ate everything. And he always wanted more.
MIKE: Thing is it's fun cooking for someone who likes eating so much.
>
> "Is this all there is?" Fatty Coon asked his mother one day.
TOM: Well, you could merge with Ilia and Captain Decker maybe?
> He had gobbled up every bit of the nice fish that Mrs. Coon had
> brought home for him. It was gone in no time at all.
CROW: 'Well, you could try the less-nice or the morally ambiguous fish.'
>
> Mrs. Coon sighed. She had heard that question so many times;
> and she wished that for once Fatty might have all the dinner he
> wanted.
MIKE: 'Fatty, you're a sphere.'
CROW: 'And I could be a hypersphere, Mom!!'
>
> "Yes---that's all," she said, "and I should think that it was
> enough for a young coon like you."
>
> Fatty said nothing more. He wiped his moustache on the back of
> his hand (I hope you'll never do that!)
TOM: You eating raw frogs, though, Arthur Scott Bailey's cool with.
> and without another word he
MIKE: Really, what else was there to say?
> started off to see what he could find to eat.
CROW: 'This is delicious!'
MIKE: 'This is an ironing board!'
CROW: 'With marshmallows!'
>
>
> II
>
TOM: Episode II: Attack Of The Coons.
> FATTY LEARNS SOMETHING ABOUT EGGS
CROW: 'Hey! These things break open!'
>
> When Fatty Coon started off alone to find something more to
> eat, after finishing the fish that his mother had brought home for
> him, he did not know that he was going to have an adventure.
MIKE: He just hoped adventure came with cheese fries.
> He nosed
> about among the bushes and the tall grasses and caught a few bugs and
> a frog or two. But he didn't think that THAT was much.
CROW: [As Bug] Oh, thank goodness, that frog was gonna eat me and now ... Wait, what are you doing?
> He didn't seem
> to have much luck, down on the ground. So he climbed a tall hemlock,
TOM: A hemlock?
CROW: I dunno, it's probably some nature thing.
> to see if he could find a squirrel's nest, or some bird's eggs.
MIKE: 'Maybe I can eat a hemlock?'
>
> Fatty loved to climb trees. Up in the big hemlock he forgot,
> for a time, that he was still hungry. It was delightful to feel the
> branches swaying under him, and the bright sunshine was warm upon his
> back.
CROW: 'You suppose the sun might be cookie-flavored?'
> He climbed almost to the very tip-top of the tree and wound
> himself around the straight stem. The thick, springy branches held him
> safely, and soon Fatty was fast asleep.
TOM: The tree tipping over, cracking under the weight.
> Next to eating, Fatty loved
> sleeping. And now he had a good nap.
CROW: 'A nap with bacon cheese!'
>
> Fatty Coon woke up at last, yawned, and slowly unwound himself
> from the stem of the tree. He was terribly hungry now. And he felt
> that he simply MUST find something to eat at once.
TOM: Why is Mitchell a raccoon?
>
> Without going down to the ground, Fatty climbed over into the
> top of another big tree and his little beady, bright eyes began
> searching all the branches carefully.
CROW: 'Too flimsy, too weak, that one'll snap, that one broke yesterday, that one snapped when I thought about it too hard, hm. Ground broke under me there.'
> Pretty soon Fatty smiled. He
> smiled because he was pleased.
TOM: It was a quirky habit of his.
> And he was pleased because he saw
> exactly what he had been looking for. Not far below him was a big
> nest, built of sticks and lined with bark and moss.
CROW: 'Garnished with bark and moss!'
> It was a crow's
> nest, Fatty decided, and he lost no time in slipping down to the
> crotch of the tree where the nest was perched.
TOM: Thud!
>
> There were four white eggs in the nest---the biggest crow's eggs
> Fatty had ever seen.
CROW: Ostrich!
MIKE: That's an ostrich egg, look out!
> And he began to eat them hungrily. His nose
> became smeared with egg, but he didn't mind that at all.
TOM: Yum, egg-flavored nose!
> He kept
> thinking how good the eggs tasted---and how he wished there were more of
> them.
MIKE: You know in the _Tale of Squawky Crow_, Fatty is one of the villains.
>
> There was a sudden rush through the branches of the tall tree.
> And Fatty Coon caught a hard blow on his head. He felt something sharp
> sink into his back, too.
TOM: There it is!
MIKE: Squawky Crow takes over the narrative! He's getting to be the hero!
> And he clutched at the edge of the nest to
> keep from falling.
>
> Fatty was surprised, to say the least, for he had never known
> crows to fight like that.
TOM: They normally confined themselves to snarky comments, often on the Internet.
CROW: The cowards! Hey, wait.
> And he was frightened, because his back
> hurt. He couldn't fight, because he was afraid he would fall if he let
> go of the nest.
MIKE: And there was still that meteoric crater lake from the last time he dropped four feet.
>
> There was nothing to do but run home as fast as he could.
CROW: Fatty's greatest challenge: running.
> Fatty tried to hurry; but there was that bird, beating and clawing his
> back, and pulling him first one way and then another.
TOM: [ As Fatty ] Ow! Look, if you want me to go *one* way then don't tug me *another*! Sheesh!
> He began to
> think he would never reach home. But at last he came to the old poplar
> where his mother lived.
CROW: 'Home! Safety! Security! Oatmeal cookies!'
> And soon, to his great joy, he reached the
> hole in the big branch; and you may well believe that Fatty was glad
> to slip down into the darkness where his mother, and his brother
> Blackie, and Fluffy and Cutey his sisters, were all fast asleep.
MIKE: You my believe this ... If you dare!
> He
> was glad, because he knew that no crow could follow him down there.
CROW: To fit Fatty the hole has to be just wide enough to let a Space Shuttle slp through.
>
> Mrs. Coon waked up.
MIKE: Waked?
> She saw that Fatty's back was sadly torn
> (for coons, you know, can see in the dark just as well as you can see
> in the daylight).
CROW: What if I need glasses?
MIKE: Well, then she wears glasses.
CROW: That ... Would be adorable.
>
> "What on earth is the matter?" she exclaimed.
>
> Poor Fatty told her. He cried a little, because his back hurt
> him, and because he was so glad to be safe at home once more.
TOM: 'Well, come here, son, let me lick that all. Nothing like raccoon spit to clean open wounds.'
>
> "What color were those eggs?" Mrs. Coon inquired.
>
> "White!" said Fatty.
>
> "Ah, ha!" Mrs. Coon said. "Don't you remember that crows' eggs
> are a blueish green?
MIKE: Oh no!
TOM: Fatty's failure to prep for his Raccoon SAT's haunts him!
CROW: *My* eggs are painted a lovely variety of colors in intricate patterns!
TOM: Ya freak.
CROW: What?
> That must have been a goshawk's nest. And a
> goshawk is the fiercest of all the hawks there are. It's no wonder
> your back is clawed.
MIKE: [ Mrs Coon ] 'Why is this scratch covered in Superman ice cream?'
CROW: [ Fatty ] It was an experiment, okay?
> Come here and let me look at it."
>
> Fatty Coon felt quite proud, as his mother examined the marks
> of the goshawk's cruel claws.
MIKE: 'I got attacked and ran away just fast enough! Heck, I ran!'
TOM: I ran so far away.
> And he didn't feel half as sorry for
> himself as you might think,
> for he remembered how good the eggs had
> tasted. He only wished there had been a dozen of them.
MIKE: So what did Fatty learn about eggs, exactly?
CROW: That ... He can eat them?
>
>
> III
>
> FATTY DISCOVERS MRS. TURTLE'S SECRET
TOM: Oh, tell me this is about lingerie.
>
> After his adventure with the goshawk Fatty Coon did not go
> near the tree-tops for a long time.
MIKE: Not until the trees put some elevators in.
> Whenever he left home he would
> crawl down the old poplar tree in which he lived;
CROW: Achieving speeds of up to 400 miles per hour.
> and he wouldn't
> climb a single tree until he came home again. Somehow, he felt safer
> on the ground.
TOM: 'You know, nobody ever drops a pie onto a tree. The ground, though, that's some prime stuff-being-dropped territory!'
> You see, he hadn't forgotten the fright he had had, nor
> how the goshawk's claws had hurt his back.
MIKE: Emotionally.
>
> It was just three days after his scare, to be exact, when
> Fatty Coon found himself on the bank of the creek which flowed slowly
> into Swift River.
TOM: Suppose that's named for how fast it is, or for its discoverer, Carol the Swift?
> Fatty had been looking for frogs, but he had had no
> luck at all.
MIKE: The frogs' early warning system was in good shape.
> To tell the truth, Fatty was a little too young to catch
> frogs easily, even when he found one;
TOM: Except for the one he grabbed last chapter.
MIKE: Hope somebody got fired for that blunder.
> and he was a good deal too fat,
> for he was so plump that he was not very spry.
MIKE: Also last week he ate the creek.
CROW: 'Well, last week we had nacho cheese popcorn seasoning to sprinkle on it!'
>
> Now, Fatty was hiding behind some tall rushes, and his sharp
> little eyes were looking all about him, and his nose was twitching as
> he sniffed the air.
CROW: 'Wawa has paninis? This changes everything!
> He wished he might find a frog. But not one frog
> appeared. Fatty began to think that some other coon must have visited
> the creek just before him and caught them all.
TOM: The lifeless pond can have only one explanation.
MIKE: Raccoons: nature's own little neutron bombs.
> And then he forgot all
> about frogs.
>
> Yes! Frogs passed completely out of Fatty Coon's mind. For
> whom should he spy but Mrs. Turtle!
CROW: What do you suppose her maiden name was?
TOM: Oh, she kept it when she married Dr Lesser Brown Bat.
> He saw her little black head
> first, bobbing along through the water of the creek. She was swimming
> toward the bank where Fatty was hidden.
MIKE: She loves the bank with its little chained pens and deposit slips.
> And pretty soon she pulled
> herself out of the water and waddled a short distance along the sand
> at the edge of the creek.
TOM: 'Well, at least I don't have to worry here about getting eaten by a raccoon!'
>
> Mrs. Turtle stopped then; and for a few minutes she was very
> busy about something. First she dug a hole in the sand.
CROW: Um?
TOM: [ Giggles nervously. ]
> And Fatty
> wondered what she was looking for. But he kept very quiet.
MIKE: Should we be watching this?
[ TOM, CROW look conspicuously away. ]
> And after a
> time Mrs. Turtle splashed into the creek again and paddled away. But
> before she left she scooped sand into the hole she had dug.
TOM: Oh dear, she *is*.
> Before she
> left the place she looked all around, as if to make sure that no one
> had seen her.
CROW: What was her plan if someone did see her at this point?
MIKE: Take the eggs back?
> And as she waddled slowly to the water Fatty could see
> that she was smiling as if she was very well pleased about something.
> She seemed to have a secret.
TOM: Quick, call in Garry Moore to help!
>
> Fatty Coon had grown very curious, as he watched Mrs. Turtle.
CROW: 'I wonder if I can use this to become an even less pleasant person?'
> And just as soon as she was out of sight he came out from his hiding
> place in the tall reeds and trotted down to the edge of the creek. He
> went straight to the spot where Mrs. Turtle had dug the hole and
> filled it up again.
MIKE: Gotta say, Mrs Turtle does not come out looking good here.
TOM: Yeah, her scouting process could really use some scouting.
> And Fatty was so eager to know what she had been
> doing that he began to dig in the very spot where Mrs. Turtle had dug
> before him.
CROW: Mmm, turtle poop.
>
> It took Fatty Coon only about six seconds to discover Mrs.
> Turtle's secret. For he did not have to paw away much of the sand
> before he came upon---what do you suppose? Eggs! Turtles' eggs!
MIKE: No, she's the last Galopagos Island Tortoise, it's the only hope of avoiding extinction!
> Twenty-seven round, white eggs, which Mrs. Turtle had left there in
> the warm sand to hatch.
CROW: 'Turtles are goshawks?'
> THAT was why she looked all around to make
> sure that no one saw her. THAT was why she seemed so pleased.
TOM: *That* was why Mrs Turtle wasn't part of her Species Survival Plan.
> For Mrs.
> Turtle fully expected that after a time twenty-seven little turtles
> would hatch from those eggs---
TOM: Each egg.
> just as chickens do---
MIKE: Did kids in 1915 need eggs explained to them?
> and dig their way out
> of the sand.
CROW: Again, good job checking, Mrs Turtle.
>
> But it never happened that way at all.
MIKE: Fatty Coon cackles delighted at his schemes.
> For as soon as he got
> over his surprise at seeing them, Fatty Coon began at once to eat
> those twenty- seven eggs. They were delicious.
TOM: Do we know whether Arthur Scott Bailey *liked* his protagonist?
> And as he finished the
> last one he couldn't help thinking how lucky he had been.
MIE: Now we have nobody to foil the evil Shredder's attacks!
>
>
> IV
>
> FATTY COON'S MISTAKE
TOM: Not getting editorial approval on this hit piece.
>
> Fatty Coon was very fond of squirrels.
CROW: Oh, Lord.
> And you may think it
> strange when I tell you that not one of the squirrels anywhere around
> Blue Mountain was the least bit fond of Fatty Coon.
MIKE: Is there anybody here that likes Fatty Coon?
CROW: There's flocks of locusts that admire his work.
TOM: But even they won't share a room with him.
> But when I say
> that Fatty Coon was fond of squirrels, I mean that he liked to eat
> them.
CROW: Yeah, yeah, we kinda saw that one coming.
TOM: People reading other stories saw *that* one coming.
> So of course you will understand now why the squirrels did not
> care for Fatty at all.
MIKE: Because the last three chapters didn't make it clear?
> In fact, they usually kept just as far away
> from him as they could.
TOM: It's as though they aren't looking for chances to die.
>
> It was easy, in the daytime, for the squirrels to keep out of
> Fatty's way, when he wandered through the tree-tops, for the squirrels
> were much sprier than Fatty.
CROW: But then the trees are sprier than Fatty.
> But at night---ah! that was a very
> different matter. For Fatty Coon's eyes were even sharper in the dark
> than they were in the daylight;
MIKE: And his mouth was twelve hours bigger.
> but the poor squirrels were just as
> blind as you are when you are safely tucked in bed and the light is
> put out.
CROW: Now I want to get squirrels their own night lights.
MIKE: I want to check I'm not going to get eaten by a raccoon in my bedroom.
>
> Yes---when the squirrels were in bed at night, up in their nests
> in the trees, they could see very little. And you couldn't say they
> were SAFE in bed,
TOM: Are they literally beds or nests or? I'm trying to work out the anthropomorphism level here.
> because they never knew when Fatty Coon, or his
> mother, or his brother, or one of his sisters, or some cousin of his,
> might come along and catch them before they knew it.
MIKE: Oh, good, it's not just his protagonist he hates, Arthur Scott Bailey has it out for every raccoon.
TOM: The important thing for children's animal fantasy is make your lead character as much like a serial killer as possible.
>
> Fatty thought it great sport to hunt squirrels at night.
CROW: He loves his reputation as an unstoppable random death-bringer!
> Whenever he tried it he usually managed to get a good meal.
TOM: So frogs stump him but squirrels are easy?
> And after
> he had almost forgotten about the fright the goshawk had given him in
> the tall hemlock he began to roam through the tree-tops every night in
> search of squirrels and sleeping birds.
CROW: It's like they say, when you fall off a bike you have to get back up and eat it.
>
> But a night came at last when Fatty was well punished for
> hunting squirrels.
MIKE: At this point any punishment is a good start.
> He had climbed half-way to the top of a big
> chestnut tree, when he spied a hole in the trunk. He rather thought
> that some squirrels lived inside that hole.
TOM: 'I'd leave then in peace but it's been two hours since I ate the last five hundred passenger pigeons!'
> And as he listened for a
> few seconds he could hear something moving about inside. Yes! Fatty
> was sure that there was a squirrel in there---probably several
> squirrels.
CROW: Maybe one squirrel, two chipmunks, and a groundhog serving in an advisory capacity?
>
> Fatty Coon's eyes turned green.
MIKE: Whoa!
TOM: Cyborg raccoon!
> It was a way they had,
> whenever he was about to eat anything, or whenever he played with his
> brother Blackie, or Fluffy and Cutey, his sisters; or whenever he was
> frightened.
CROW: Or when his laser batteries are running low.
> And now Fatty was so sure that he was going to have a fine
> lunch that his eyes turned as green as a cat's.
TOM: Cyborg cats?
MIKE: This is why nature just isn't a good idea.
> He reached a paw
> inside the hole and felt all around.
CROW: 'Hey, there's nothing in here but a paw-remover!'
>
> WOW! Fatty gave a cry; and he pulled his paw out much faster
> than he had put it in. Something had given him a cruel dig.
TOM: A ... ?
CROW: Somebody really got at his paw's emotional weaknesses.
> And in a
> jiffy Fatty saw what that "something" was. It was a grumpy old tramp
> coon, whom Fatty had never seen before.
MIKE: Buh?
CROW: What makes a *tramp* raccoon?
TOM: Raids the trash bins on a freight train I guess?
>
> "What do you mean, you young rascal, by disturbing me like
> this?" the ragged stranger cried.
CROW: He can call Fatty that because 'rascal' is a raccoon word.
TOM: They've reclaimed it.
>
> "Please, sir, I never knew it was you," Fatty stammered.
>
> "Never knew it was me! Who did you think it was?"
MIKE: I dunno, but I'm reading this with a W C Fields vibe.
>
> "A---a squirrel!" Fatty said faintly. And he whimpered a little,
> because his paw hurt him.
TOM: He sees what it's like to get eaten some.
>
> "Ho, ho! That's a good one! That's a good joke!"
CROW: [ As the tramp ] 'Thinking a squirrel might be hiding in a squirrel-hole in a tree! A rich jest, yes. Now let me get back to eating these squirrels.'
> The tramp
> coon laughed heartily. And then he scowled so fiercely that poor Fatty
> nearly tumbled out of the tree. "You go home," he said to Fatty. "And
> don't you let me catch you around here again. You hear?"
MIKE: Or your paw shall get more digs and a few sharply barbed comments!
>
> "Yes, sir!" Fatty said. And home he went. And you may be sure
> that he let THAT tree alone after that. He never went near it again.
TOM: Wait, was that his well-punishment?
MIKE: Sometimes having to talk to someone is punishment enough.
>
>
> V
TOM: It was.
CROW: Maybe the real punishment was having to be Fatty Coon all along.
>
> FATTY COON GOES FISHING
MIKE: A very special episode.
>
> One day Fatty Coon was strolling along the brook which flowed
> not far from his home.
CROW: Swift Creek?
TOM: Foster Brook.
MIKE: That's ... actually too new a reference for this.
> He stopped now and then, to crouch close to the
> water's edge, in the hope of catching a fish.
CROW: 'What if a fish was a goshawk egg pie?'
> And one time, when he
> lay quite still among the rocks, at the side of a deep pool, with his
> eyes searching the clear water, Fatty Coon suddenly saw something
> bright, all yellow and red, that lighted on the water right before
> him. It was a bug, or a huge fly.
MIKE: Or a tiny flying saucer.
TOM: Fatty eats the aliens' peaceful expedition before they get started.
> And Fatty was very fond of bugs---to
> eat, you know.
ALL: We *know*.
CROW: As opposed to the ones he trains for pets.
> So he lost no time. The bright thing had scarcely
> settled on the water when Fatty reached out and seized it.
CROW: But he already seezed it! It was right in front of his eyes!
> He put it
> into his mouth, when the strangest thing happened. Fatty felt himself
> pulled right over into the water.
MIKE: Finally he crosses the Chandrasekhar limit and collapses into a black hole.
>
> He was surprised, for he never knew a bug or a fly to be so
> strong as that. Something pricked his cheek and Fatty thought that the
> bright thing had stung him.
CROW: Then this family of nutrias comes up and slaps Fatty silly.
> He tried to take it out of his mouth, and
> he was surprised again. Whatever the thing was, it seemed to be stuck
> fast in his mouth.
TOM: He's delighted by something wanting him to eat it for a change.
> And all the time Fatty was being dragged along
> through the water. He began to be frightened.
MIKE: Hungry and frightened: the Fatty Coon story.
> And for the first time
> he noticed that there was a slender line which stretched from his
> mouth straight across the pool. As he looked along the line Fatty saw
> a man at the other end of it---a man, standing on the other side of the
> brook!
CROW: 'I don't know how but I caught a human!'
TOM: 'That'll be eating for *hours*!'
> And he was pulling Fatty toward him as fast as he could.
>
> Do you wonder that Fatty Coon was frightened?
TOM: He didn't have a license to catch men.
> He jumped
> back---as well as he could, in the water---and tried to swim away.
CROW: 'Dive! Dive! Dive!'
> His
> mouth hurt; but he plunged and pulled just the same, and jerked his
> head and squirmed and wriggled and twisted.
MIKE: *Extremely* Chubby Checker!
> And just as Fatty had
> almost given up hope of getting free, the gay-colored bug, or fly, or
> whatever it was, flew out of his mouth and took the line with it.
CROW: I wonder if Fatty Coon will go on to learn nothing from this?
> At
> least, that was what Fatty Coon thought. And he swam quickly to the
> bank and scampered into the bushes.
MIKE: And ate his cover.
TOM: 'Needs peanut butter!'
>
> Now, this was what really happened.
MIKE: Our story begins with the Algeciras Crisis of 1905.
> Farmer Green had come up
> the brook to catch trout. On the end of his fish-line he had tied a
> make-believe fly,
CROW: For the discerning fisher who doesn't exist.
> with a hook hidden under its red and yellow wings.
> He had stolen along the brook very quietly, so that he wouldn't
> frighten the fish.
TOM: He brought some presents in case he did, to reassure any scaredy-catfish.
> And he had made so little noise that Fatty Coon
> never heard him at all.
CROW: [ Fatty ] Hey, it's hard to hear someone over the sound of my deep-fat fryer!
> Farmer Green had not seen Fatty, crouched as
> he was among the stones. And when Fatty reached out and grabbed the
> make-believe fly Farmer Green was even more surprised at what happened
> than Fatty himself.
TOM: Sammy Squirrel falls out of a tree, laughing.
MIKE: Fatty eats him.
> If the fish-hook hadn't worked loose from Fatty's
> mouth Farmer Green would have caught the queerest fish anybody ever
> caught, almost.
CROW: Well, there was that mermaid-cerberus this guy down in Belmar caught but that was something else.
>
> Something seemed to amuse Farmer Green, as he watched Fatty
> dive into the bushes; and he laughed loud and long.
TOM: See? Fatty Coon brings joy to the world, at last.
> But Fatty Coon
> didn't laugh at all. His mouth was too sore;
MIKE: And full.
> and he was too
> frightened.
CROW: And awful.
> But he was very, very glad that the strange bug had flown
> away.
MIKE: And he learns the most important lesson of all, which is ...
CROW: I dunno. Preferably food things.
TOM: Let's blow this popsicle stand.
MIKE: Yeah, before Fatty eats it.
[ ALL exit the theater. ]
[ 1... 2... 3... 4... 5... 6... ]
[ SATELLITE OF LOVE. TOM SERVO, MIKE, and CROW at the desk. ]
MIKE: Well.
TOM: So.
CROW: Well *and* so.
MIKE: So in his defense ---
[ TOM, CROW groan. ]
MIKE: OK, but name something Fatty did that a real raccoon ---
CROW: Don't care.
TOM: Look, we already know Nature sucks. That's why we have indoors.
CROW: And that is *all* the reminder of the cruel nature of the world that we ever need. Thank you.
MIKE: I .. well, over to you, Pearl.
[ CASTLE FORRESTER. PEARL, OBSERVER, and BOBO cackling. ]
PEARL: They don't even suspect!
OBSERVER: Why would they?
BOBO: Suspect what?
[ PEARL, OBSERVER glare at BOBO. ]
BOBO: What?
OBSERVER: Chapters Six ...
PEARL: Through Twenty.
BOBO: [ Not getting it. ] Oh. [ Getting it. ] Oh!
\ | /
\ | /
\|/
---O---
/|\
/ | \
/ | \
BOBO: [ Off screen ] Of this?
Mystery Science Theater 3000 and its characters and settings and concept are the property of ... you know, I'm not sure. It used to be Best Brains but now I think that's different? Well, it belongs to the people it really and truly belongs to and this is just me playing with their toys. _The Tale of Fatty Coon_ was written by Arthur Scott Bailey and published in 1915 and accessed via archive.org, which is why I am reasonably confident they're in the public domain and can be used this way.
Keep Usenet circulating.
> Fatty Coon's eyes turned green. It was a way they had,
> whenever he was about to eat anything
--
Joseph Nebus
Math: The End 2016 Mathematics A To Z: Yang Hui http://wp.me/p1RYhY-18j
Humor: The Top Ten For 2016 http://wp.me/p37lb5-1tw
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