XPost: alt.fan.mst3k, alt.tv.mst3k

XIX

TOM: Xixi of Ix.

FATTY GROWS EVEN FATTER

CROW: [ As Fatty ] 'I thought we were dumping the fat jokes!'

When Fatty Raccoon's burned feet were well once more,

MIKE: Ah, continuity again. Serial adventures.

the very
first night he left his mother's house he went straight to the
loggers' camp.

CROW: [ As Fatty ] 'I swear if they're doing Monty Python routines I'm giving them all dysentery.'

He did not wait long after dark, because he was afraid
that some of his neighbors might have found

TOM: That sweet Moon that Farmer Green's son was leaving out.

that there were good
things to eat about the camp. And Fatty wanted them all.

MIKE: Fatty's a big fan of Queen.

To his delight, there were goodies almost without end. He
nosed about, picking up potato peelings, and bits of bacon.

CROW: Pumpkin scraps.
TOM: Remaindered butter.
MIKE: Irregular porks.
TOM: Off-brand onions.
CROW: Second-hand hash browns.
MIKE: Good-as-new eggs.

And
perhaps the best of all was a piece of cornbread, which Fatty fairly
gobbled.

MIKE: Fairly. He gave the cornbread a chance to get away.

And then he found a box half-full of something---scraps that
tasted like apples, only they were not round like apples,

TOM: Ah yes, 'Fool's Apples'.

and they
were quite dry, instead of being juicy.

CROW: Then there's the spikes they eject and the wailing of the doomed they emit, but otherwise? Great stuff.

But Fatty liked them; and he
ate them all, down to the smallest bit.

MIKE: Animals are famous for liking to eat strange and painfully dry foods.

He was thirsty, then. So he went down to the brook,

CROW: Raccoons are natural problem-solvers.

which ran
close by the camp. The loggers had cut a hole through the ice,

TOM: [ As the author ] Uh --- did I mention it's winter? ... Because it's winter.

so they
could get water.

MIKE: [ As the author ] Oh and, uh, maybe I didn't say before but the loggers are all French-Canadian but *not* Catholic. Not sure it's important, just think you should know.

And Fatty crept close to the edge of the hole and
drank.

CROW: [ As the author ] Oh yeah, also remember the animals all wear clown hats, that's going to be really important next chapter.

He drank a great deal of water, because he was very thirsty.

TOM: [ As the author ] Sorry, one last thing, they're all robots who don't know they're in a band.

And when he had finished he sat down on the ice for a time. He did not
care to stir about just then.

CROW: Lucky thing he's at one of those newfangled self-stirring rivers.

And he did not think he would ever want anything to eat again.

MIKE: What's a 'fangle' and what makes a fangle 'new'?
TOM: Um ...

At last Fatty Raccoon rose to his feet. He felt very queer. There
was a strange, tight feeling about his stomach.

MIKE: [ As Fatty ] 'Am I being strangled by a boa constrictor --- *again*?'

And his sides were no
longer thin. They stuck out just as they had before winter came---only
more so.

CROW: Raccoon with attached porch.

And what alarmed Fatty was this: his sides seemed to be
sticking out more and more all the time.

TOM: [ As Fatty ] 'I keep seeing this happen to cartoon characters but never dreamed it could happen to me!'

He wondered what he had been eating. Those dry things that
tasted like apples---he wondered what they were.

CROW: Bad luck of Fatty that this was the summer of the apple-flavored self-inflating life-raft fad.

Now, there was some printing on the outside of the box which
held those queer, spongy, flat things.

MIKE: Oh yeah, there it is on the label: 'Queer, Spongy, Flat Things to Inflate Your Raccoon', should have expected that.

Of course, Fatty Raccoon could not read,

TOM: Of course?

so the printing did him no good at all. But if you had seen the
box, and if you are old enough to read,

CROW: Arthur Scott Bailey pandering to his audience here.

you would have known that the printing said: EVAPORATED APPLES

TOM: E ... Evaporated apples?
CROW: Consolidated grapes!
MIKE: Abbreviated radishes!
CROW: Imaginary corn!
TOM: Dark matter potatoes!

Now, evaporated apples are nothing more or less than dried
apples.

MIKE: To the lay audience, anyway.

The cook of the loggers' camp used them to make apple pies.

TOM: Not to get in good with condensed teachers?

And first, before making his pies, he always soaked them in water so
they would swell.

CROW: [ As Logger ] 'How do the apples look?'
MIKE: [ As cook ] 'Swell!'
CROW: [ As Logger ] 'So they're ready to go!'

Now you see what made Fatty Raccoon feel so queer and
uncomfortable.

TOM: He missed out on apple pie?

He had first eaten his dried apples.

CROW: Okay, okay wait, let me write this down.

And then he had
soaked them,

CROW: All right, keep laying out the clues, I'll figure it out.

by drinking out of the brook.

MIKE: Brook water? What's wrong with *real* water?

It was no wonder that his
sides stuck out, for the apples that he had bolted were swelling and
puffing him out until he felt that he should burst.

TOM: So evaporated apples take revenge. Got it.

In fact, the
wonder of it was that he was able to get through his mother's doorway,
when he reached home.

MIKE: Not because of the fatness, because he was out after curfew.

But he did it, though it cost him a few groans. And he
frightened his mother, too.

CROW: Mrs Raccoon is a long-suffering character this book.

"I only hope you're not poisoned," she said, when Fatty told
her what he had been doing.

TOM: Oh, c'mon, where would humans even *get* poison from? Be realistic!

And that remark frightened Fatty more than ever.

CROW: [ As Fatty ] 'Poissoned? I didn't even *see* any fish!'
MIKE: [ As Mom ] 'No, I ... you know, I'll let this one go.'

as sure

he was never going to feel any better.

TOM: This is me whenever I have *anything*.

Poor Mrs. Raccoon was much worried all the rest of the night.

MIKE: Wonder what Fatty's siblings are up to tonight ... ah well.

But
when morning came she knew that Fatty was out of danger.

CROW: Aaah?

She knew it
because of something he said.

MIKE: Oh, classic Fatty line coming in.

It was this:

TOM: He's gonna say it? He's gonna say it!

"Oh, dear! I wish I had something to eat!"

[ ALL go wild as a sitcom audience, cheering and clapping. ]




[ To be concluded ... ]



--
Joseph Nebus
Math Blog: https://nebusresearch.wordpress.com
Humor Blog: https://nebushumor.wordpress.com --------------------------------------------------------+---------------------

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