XPost: rec.arts.tv.mst3k.misc, alt.tv.mst3k   
   From: nebusj-@-rpi-.edu   
      
   >     XV   
   >   
   >	FATTY VISITS THE SMOKE-HOUSE   
      
    CROW: It's so nice of Fatty to visit the smoke-houses stuck at home like that.   
      
   >   
   >	The winter was fast going.   
      
    MIKE: Until someone grabbed its tail through the hole in the sycamore.   
      
   >                                  And one fine day in February Fatty   
   > Raccoon crept out of his mother's house to enjoy the warm sunshine---   
      
     TOM: February, the Sunshine Month.   
      
   > and see what he could find to eat.   
   >   
   >	Fatty was much thinner than he had been in the fall.   
      
    CROW: So be with us for next week when we start The Tale Of Thinny Raccoon.   
      
   >                                                            He had   
   > spent so much of the time sleeping that he had really eaten very   
   > little.   
      
     TOM: [ As Fatty ]  'Wouldn't mind eating little if I did it more often.'   
      
   >         And now he hardly knew himself as he looked at his sides. They   
   > no longer stuck out as they had once.   
      
    MIKE: You know, the 'sleep-and-pretend-barber-shop' weight plan is the most   
   successful diet plan.   
      
   >   
   >	After nosing about the swamp and the woods all the afternoon   
   > Fatty decided that there was no use in trying to get a meal there.   
      
    CROW: What if I offered to pay someone Tuesday for a hamburger today?   
      
   >                                                                    The   
   > ground was covered with snow. And except for rabbit tracks---and a few   
   > squirrels'---   
      
     TOM: And a fox.   
    CROW: Three deer.   
    MIKE: That band of river otters.   
    CROW: Those penguins.   
     TOM: That team of dressage armadillos.   
    MIKE: Four elephants all wearing berets.   
      
   >              he could find nothing that even suggested food. And   
   > looking at those tracks only made him hungrier than ever.   
      
    CROW: Man, never go eating on an empty stomach.   
      
   >   
   >	For a few minutes Fatty thought deeply. And then he turned   
   > about and went straight toward Farmer Green's place.   
      
     TOM: Oh, you can't eat a *place*.  Fatty, you want to look for *food*.   
      
   >                                                      He waited behind   
   > the fence just beyond Farmer Green's house; and when it began to grow   
   > dark he crept across the barnyard.   
      
    MIKE: So he got up in the sunlight to wait for nightfall.   
      
   >   
   >	As Fatty passed a small, low building he noticed a delicious   
   > smell. And he stopped right there.   
      
    CROW: Tell me it's a pie cooling on the windowsill.   
    MIKE: 'Tramp raccoon' already snagged that.   
      
   >                                    He had gone far enough. The door   
   > was open a little way.   
      
     TOM: Ah, that's all he needs for probable cause.   
      
   >                        And after one quick look all around---to make   
   > sure there was nobody to see him---Fatty slipped inside.   
      
    CROW: Bonk!   
    MIKE: [ As Fatty ] OW!  ... I meant to do that!   
      
   >   
   >	It was almost dark inside Farmer Green's smokehouse---for that   
   > was what the small, low building was called.   
      
     TOM: Or the smoke-house, if you edit the titles of chapters.   
      
   >                                              It was almost dark; but   
   > Fatty could see just as well as you and I can see in the daytime.   
      
    MIKE: Course, him bringing the flashlight helped.   
      
   > There was a long row of hams hung up in a line. Underneath them were   
   > white ashes, where Farmer Green had built wood fires, to smoke the   
   > hams.   
      
    CROW: Wait, really?  Like, that's how smoking meat works?   
    MIKE: [ Shrugs ]   
      
   >       But the fires were out, now; and Fatty was in no danger of being   
   > burned.   
      
     TOM: The passion was gone from the hams.   
      
   >   
   >	The hams were what Fatty Raccoon had smelled. And the hams were   
   > what Fatty intended to eat.   
      
    MIKE: If he can just get them away from the guy who draws 'Heathcliff'.   
      
   >                             He decided that he would eat them   
   > all---though of course he could never have done that---at least, not in   
   > one night; nor in a week, either.   
      
     TOM: Nine days, though?  That would do it, if he ate through dinner breaks.   
      
   >                                   But when it came to eating, Fatty's   
   > courage never failed him. He would have tried to eat an elephant, if   
   > he had had the chance.   
      
    MIKE: Imagining him slurping the elephant's trunk up like a strand of   
   spaghetti.   
    CROW: Asking the elephant to rub a little alfredo sauce on him .. .   
      
   >   
   >	Fatty did not stop to look long at that row of hams.   
      
    MIKE: He only wept, for the lack of new worlds to conquer.   
      
   >                                                            He   
   > climbed a post that ran up the side of the house and he crept out   
      
     TOM: If he ran out he'd be showing post-haste.   
      
   > along the pole from which the hams were hung.   
      
    CROW: Oh, they're hamstrung.   
      
   >   
   >	He stopped at the very first ham he came to.   
      
    MIKE: And asked for directions to town.   
      
   >                                                    There was no   
   > sense in going any further.   
      
     TOM: Unless you're being whimsical!   
      
   >                             And Fatty dropped on top of the ham and in   
   > a twinkling he had torn off a big, delicious mouthful.   
      
    MIKE: [ Low-key ] o/` I wanna hold your ham ... o/`   
      
   >   
   >	Fatty could not eat fast enough. He wished he had two   
   > mouths   
      
     TOM: And six eyes, not all on his face!   
      
   >       ---he was so hungry. But he did very well, with only ONE.   
      
    CROW: You know, an expert eater can use only the one mouth and you never   
   notice the difference.   
      
   >                                                                 In no   
   > time at all he had made a great hole in the ham.   
      
     TOM: Oh, ham and Swiss.   
      
   >                                                  And he had no idea of   
   > stopping.   
      
    MIKE: 'I will not start stopping', he said.   
      
   >           But he did stop.   
      
    CROW: 'Wait, I started stopping anyway!'   
      
   >                            He stopped very suddenly.   
      
     TOM: Have you tried stopping stopping?   
    MIKE: Or starting not-stopping?   
      
   >                                                      For the first   
   > thing he knew, something threw him right down upon the floor.   
      
    CROW: Hey, it's the crushing sadness of modern life!  Neat!   
      
   >                                                               And the   
   > ham fell on top of him and nearly knocked him senseless.   
   >   
   >	He choked and spluttered;   
      
     TOM: He never expected to live a 'death by snu-snu' meme.   
      
   >                                 for the ashes filled his mouth and   
   > his eyes, and his ears, too. For a moment he lay there on his back;   
      
    MIKE: Surprised he isn't trying to eat his way out of the ham.   
      
   > but soon he managed to kick the heavy ham off his stomach and then he   
   > felt a little better.   
      
    CROW: On to seconds!   
      
   >                       But he was terribly frightened. And though his   
   > eyes smarted so he could hardly see, he sprang up and found the   
   > doorway.   
      
     TOM: [ As Fatty ] 'Lead on, my trusty moustache!  ... Oh no!'   
      
   >   
   >	Fatty swallowed a whole mouthful of ashes as he dashed across   
   > the barnyard.   
      
      
   [continued in next message]   
      
   --- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05   
    * Origin: you cannot sedate... all the things you hate (1:229/2)