XPost: rec.arts.tv.mst3k.misc, alt.tv.mst3k   
   From: nebusj-@-rpi-.edu   
      
   >   
   >   
   >       IV   
      
     TOM: Chapter One, Part Two, Part Two, Part Two.   
      
   >   
   >       HUNTING A HOLE   
      
    JOEL: Where the rain gets in ...   
    CROW: You said that.   
      
   >   
   >       Usually Grumpy Weasel did not stray far from a   
   > certain corner of Farmer Green's wood lot.   
      
     TOM: How much wood does Farmer Green have?   
    JOEL: A lot?   
      
   >                                            He preferred to   
   > hunt where he knew the lay of the land.   
      
    CROW: Pretty sure it just hangs out on top of the bedrock underneath?   
      
   >                                         And since he liked   
   > especially to hunt along old stone walls,   
      
    JOEL: Those *new* stone walls aren't good for anything.   
      
   >                                           he picked out a   
   > long stretch of old tumble-down wall that reached through the   
   > woods towards Blue Mountain.   
      
     TOM: Now why would you build a wall to keep the mountains out?   
    CROW: West Virginia didn't and look what happened to them.   
      
   >   
   >       He picked it out as his very own hunting ground and   
   > never asked permission of Farmer Green, either.   
      
    JOEL: Grumpy Weasel fighting back against the Man.   
      
   >   
   >       Now, near the lower end of this wall---the end toward   
   > the pasture---   
      
     TOM: Don't mistake which end is toward the pasture, it *will* be on the   
   final exam!   
      
   >               a fat person known as Mr. Meadow Mouse   
   > sometimes wandered.   
      
    CROW: Mr Meadow Mouse sleeps in the park, shaves in the dark ---   
    JOEL: We did that too.   
    CROW: Why is every name doing this to us?   
      
   >                     But he never visited that spot without   
   > first inquiring whether Grumpy Weasel had been there the day   
   > before.   
      
     TOM: Why wait a day between asking and going to the place?   
      
   >         Mr. Meadow Mouse had learned somehow that Grumpy   
   > usually moved on each day to a different part of his hunting   
   > ground.   
      
    CROW: I'm going to guess he walked, maybe ran to other places?   
     TOM: Maybe he has a Weaselmobile?  Or a tiny helicopter?   
    JOEL: A series of weasel-bearing trampolines scattered across the yard.   
      
   >         He was surprised, therefore, to meet Grumpy Weasel   
   > face to face one time, when he felt sure that that surly   
   > rogue must be a good safe distance away.   
      
    CROW: At the tavern, trying to get the bard to stop picking fights with   
   farmers.   
      
   >   
   >       Mr. Meadow Mouse cast a quick glance around. But he   
   > could see no place to hide.   
      
     TOM: The hiding place was hidden?   
    JOEL: It does one thing and it does it well.   
      
   >                             So there was nothing for him to   
   > do but to put on a bold front. He bowed pleasantly enough,   
      
    CROW: Everything else has failed, so let's try courtesy!   
      
   > though he was trembling a little, and remarked that it was a   
   > fine day   
      
    JOEL: 35 dollars and two points on his license.   
      
   >          and that he hoped Grumpy was feeling happy---all of   
   > which was quite true.   
      
    CROW: Yes, it is truly quite.   
      
   >   
   >       Grumpy Weasel glowered at Mr. Meadow Mouse, for that   
   > was his way of replying to a kindly greeting.   
      
     TOM: Ugh, don't talk to me before I've had my morning mouse.   
    CROW: Arthur Morning Mouse, last seen in The Tale Of Solomon Owl.   
      
   >   
   >       "You've not come here to hunt, I hope," he growled.   
      
    JOEL: 'Cause you're not wearing orange, I'll have to ticket you.   
      
   > "I'll have you know that this is my private hunting ground   
   > and I allow no poaching."   
      
     TOM: How do you feel about scrambling or omelette-making?   
      
   >   
   >       Mr. Meadow Mouse hastened to explain that he was   
   > merely out for a stroll.   
      
    CROW: [ As Meadow Mouse ] Look, there's one now!   [ CROW leans out of frame,   
   going 'Whoosh!'. ]   
      
   >   
   >       "I never hunt," he declared. "Of course,   
      
    JOEL: 'Course, I am hunting for an easier way of life, but aren't we all?    
   Hah ?  Ha ha?  Ha?  ... Uh ... '   
      
   >                                                if I happen   
   > to see a tiny seed I may stop to eat it. But that's all."   
      
     TOM: Got him on a technicality, that's grazing, not hunting.   
      
   >   
   >       "You'd better be careful what you say!" Grumpy Weasel   
   > snapped.   
      
    CROW: You don't want to accidentally say something like 'Flord digorznip   
   flompty hoopnay', since that's nonsense.   
      
   >          "Unless I'm mistaken, you were hunting something the   
   > moment you saw me. You were hunting a hole."   
      
    JOEL: Oh, you can't get a hole this time of year, they're all hibernating.   
      
   >   
   >       Mr. Meadow Mouse gasped slightly. He hardly knew what   
   > to say.   
      
    CROW: 'I wasn't hunting *a* hole, I'd take *any* hole.'   
      
   >   
   >       "Be very careful where you go around here!" Grumpy   
   > Weasel warned him. "The holes in this stone wall are all   
   > mine.   
      
     TOM: The stone wall itself is the Monolith aliens', so, attempt no landings   
   there.   
      
   >       I shouldn't want you to use a single one of them   
   > without my permission."   
      
    CROW: [ As Meadow Mouse ] 'Oh, I'm okay in all the others, though?'   
      
   >   
   >       Mr. Meadow Mouse assured him that he wouldn't dream   
   > of trespassing.   
      
     TOM: No trepanning, now, that just makes more holes for Grumpy Weasel.   
      
   >   
   >       "And these holes among the roots of the trees---they   
   > are mine too," Grumpy Weasel snarled.   
      
    JOEL: Well now Grumpy sounds like he's aggrandizing.   
    CROW: Yeah, some of those holes are historically part of the Badger-Mink   
   Commonwealth's.   
      
   >   
   >       "Oh, certainly! Certainly!" Mr. Meadow Mouse cried.   
      
    JOEL: Maybe!   
     TOM: I guess?   
      
   > He was so quick to agree that for once Grumpy Weasel couldn't   
   > think of anything more to find fault about.   
      
    CROW: [ As Grumpy ] 'Give me a minute, I just woke up.'   
      
   >   
   >       "I'll let you crawl into a few of the smaller holes   
   > in the stone wall, if you'll be careful not to hurt them," he   
   > offered grudgingly.   
      
     TOM: How do you hurt a hole?   
    JOEL: Same way you hurt anyone, run roughshod over its fillings.   
      
   >   
   >       Mr. Meadow Mouse made haste to thank him.   
      
    CROW: [ As Grumpy ] 'Oh, oh, I can't have haste anymore.  Too much sugar too   
   close to bed.'   
      
   >   
   >       He said, however, that he thought he would wait till   
   > some other time.   
      
     TOM: That's the sort of thing it's easy to say when you're in 1915.   
      
   >   
   >       "There's no time like the present," Grumpy Weasel   
   > grumbled.   
      
    CROW: That thought is the only thing that's kept me going lately.   
      
   >           "To tell the truth, I want to see if you can   
   > squeeze through as small a hole as I can."   
      
    JOEL: [ As Meadow Mouse ] 'Mr Weasel are you hitting on me?'   
      
      
      
   --   
                                                                   Joseph Nebus   
    Math Blog: https://nebusresearch.wordpress.com   
   Humor Blog: https://nebushumor.wordpress.com   
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