Pushing Daisies

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Al Lowe: A | Grade It Now!
Jock Off
In a hurry? Read the recaplet for a nutshell description!

Before I begin, a huge thank-you to the incomparable djb for slipping back into the recapper seat last week on my behalf. While he was slogging through the stuff about assorted birdhouses in various souls, I was riding carnie rides in East Georgia. If you think pigeons with bedazzled wings carrying messages to people with no arms and/or legs is weird, try looking out over the graves of the Confederate dead from atop a Ferris wheel while a toothless carnie takes a smoke break below while leaning on the control stick. Suffice it to say, my inner ear is still not quite right.

Tonight, we learn more about Young Ned's miserable childhood, post-dead-Mom. Jim Dale busts all kinds of rhymes to deliver the brutal truth: Ned spent his time at boarding school waiting to hear word, any word, from his absentee father. Week after week, he confronted the sour school postmistress, only to wind up dejected again and again when no mail would come. Ah, "but then one day before All Hallows Eve," JD trills, "she gave him the nod. It was hard to believe." Ned approaches, bathed in the light of the postmistress's glowing pumpkin, only to receive a generic "We've Moved" postcard from his father. Dejected, he sneaks away from school, cleverly disguising himself as a ghost under his cowboy bed sheet (with Digby at his side, similarly disguised). What he sees when he arrives at his father's new house is worse than anything he could imagine -- his dad, who wears a fedora like he's Dagwood Bumstead or somebody, has remarried and now has an instant family with two new sons. Ned stands solemnly under his sheet as his father comes up, not even recognizing him, and gives him a Honeycomb Chew, like he's just some random trick-or-treater. Poor Young Ned.

Jim Dale barely even has time to weave a mournful rhyme, however, because we must move quickly on to the Dead Guy of the Week. Have you noticed that, thus far, none of the Scooby Doo cases in which the crew has become entangled has concerned a dead woman? Well, hold on, there was Chuck, yes. Forget I said anything. Anyway, suddenly, we are with an unfortunate blacksmith, clanging away on an ACTUAL anvil (which has got to be the first time on TWoP that word has ever been used in its literal sense), just minding his own business, making some horseshoes, when from the darkness storms a sinister horseman riding a fire-breathing steed! The beast rears back and strikes the blacksmith to his death. (At this somewhat frightening moment, my doorbell rang for the 300th time, even though I had turned off the porch lights, and I had to go fling a Butterfinger at a tiny Hispanic Spiderman. He was cute, but I was busy, and dammit, Halloween should be over by 8 PM ET.)

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Pushing Daisies




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