Dumpster Diving

Dawn came and Ronnie was still trying to tell the Face of Everyman how life was so unfair.  There was less and less good garbage to be had in the Foggy Bottoms Resort and Spa or the near by village.  First it was Disposals, then composters, then locking lids on curbside cans.  Dumpster Diving just isn’t what it was like in the old days.  Ronnie could remember stories his grandfather used to tell of knocking over garbage cans in town and strewing the fermenting mess up and down the alleyways.  The venerable sage could only nod; all the while computing Pi to the Nth decimal in his head to help relieve his boredom.

Please, Mom . . .

Rocky, Jr. pleaded with his Mom.  He didn’t want to go home.  The Foggy Bottoms Resort and Spa had the best garbage cans and the freshest water for miles around.  Mom wasn’t hearing any excuses.  She was afraid that the Face of Everyman would give Junior some uppity ideas about earning a living and paying taxes.

Crawdad Caller

Uncle Louie was a renown Crawdad Caller.  The family sought out his unique skills to prove once and for all the question of crawdads in the Foggy Bottoms Resort and Spa.  Unca’ Louie would start with a low moan and work up to a piercing shriek. Supposedly this would cause any fresh water crayfish to rise to the surface for an easy harvest.  About then the Face of Everyman awoke with a start. If they’d only asked, he could have told them.


the Face of Everyman felt as tho’ he were in a Shakespearean play.  Treachery seemed everywhere.  Alas, to sleep, perchance to dream . . .  Roving bandits seemed to control the entire Foggy Bottoms Resort and Spa.  If only Batman and Robin hadn’t retired.  The venerable sage deeply regretted yard-selling the search light used to summon the dynamic duo.

Gastronomic Delights

State Fish and Wildlife inspectors were dumbfounded to realize that Rocky was actually washing his peanut butter sandwich.  They replayed the footage of the Foggy Bottoms Resort and Spa security camera again and again.  It was the Face of Everyman who verified their findings.  Orts had drifted his way and channeled his dreams into a series of gastronomic delights.

Code 5150

Ever since Rocky was laid off as a cartoon cell animation artist time weighed heavily on his hands.  His waking hours were spent foraging and streaming hospital dramas on TV.  He easily relates to the brave surgeons who scrub their hands with great care before each difficult operation.  He often asks the Face of Everyman when there might be a hospital built on the Foggy Bottoms Resort and Spa.  He is eager to start operating.  The venerable sage thought of calling in a Code 5150; but his masked friend seemed harmless enough; at least at this stage.


The Holiday season of Good Cheer seemed everywhere in the Foggy Bottoms Resort and Spa; so much so that the Face of Everyman lost track of how much Eggnog he was serving his guests.  He was dismayed to see that little Elvis had been licking the swizzle sticks.  Even that small amount was more than a youngster’s stomach could handle.  The venerable sage asked his Mom to take him home while he could still walk.