Panel 1:You know what, JS? The swamp is not mysterious. The swamp is dark, the swamp is dank, the swamp is teeming with alligators waiting to get poached by side-burned buffoons, but the swamp is not mysterious. The swamp is a complex ecosystem, yes, but that's not mysterious, that's just nature. You want to know what's mysterious? What's mysterious is why I keep reading this fucking comic strip. That, and who took the apple off my desk I was saving for a snack. Someone call Miss Marple!
Panel 2:I have it on good authority that these guys are bringing way too much firepower to their little turkey shoot. Turns out, you only need some nylon rope and a .45 to hunt alligators.
Panel 3:Why, Bob, because you had him over for dinner? Clearly you are not familiar with the Right Fist o' Justice and the Left Foot o' Retribution. They are employed without regard for their owner's relationship with their target. Mark Trail will kick anyone's ass, even people who have had their complacent wives pour him coffee. So, Bob, you might want to reconsider that statement, because I suspect that we're coming to the point in this narrative arc where Mark Trail finally rips the top off a can of whup-ass and shoves it down your pusillanimous throat.
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