And now the next part of my MST3K treatment of The Tale of Fatty Coon.
TOM: Episode II: Attack Of The Coons.
> FATTY LEARNS SOMETHING ABOUT EGGS
CROW: ‘Hey! These things break open!’
> When Fatty Coon started off alone to find something more to
> eat, after finishing the fish that his mother had brought home for
> him, he did not know that he was going to have an adventure.
MIKE: He just hoped adventure came with cheese fries.
> He nosed
> about among the bushes and the tall grasses and caught a few bugs and
> a frog or two. But he didn’t think that THAT was much.
CROW: [As Bug] Oh, thank goodness, that frog was gonna eat me and now … Wait, what are you doing?
> He didn’t seem
> to have much luck, down on the ground. So he climbed a tall hemlock,
TOM: A hemlock?
CROW: I dunno, it’s probably some nature thing.
> to see if he could find a squirrel’s nest, or some bird’s eggs.
MIKE: ‘Maybe I can eat a hemlock?’
> Fatty loved to climb trees. Up in the big hemlock he forgot,
> for a time, that he was still hungry. It was delightful to feel the
> branches swaying under him, and the bright sunshine was warm upon his
CROW: ‘You suppose the sun might be cookie-flavored?’
> He climbed almost to the very tip-top of the tree and wound
> himself around the straight stem. The thick, springy branches held him
> safely, and soon Fatty was fast asleep.
TOM: The tree tipping over, cracking under the weight.
> Next to eating, Fatty loved
> sleeping. And now he had a good nap.
CROW: ‘A nap with bacon cheese!’
> Fatty Coon woke up at last, yawned, and slowly unwound himself
> from the stem of the tree. He was terribly hungry now. And he felt
> that he simply MUST find something to eat at once.
TOM: Why is Mitchell a raccoon?
> Without going down to the ground, Fatty climbed over into the
> top of another big tree and his little beady, bright eyes began
> searching all the branches carefully.
CROW: ‘Too flimsy, too weak, that one’ll snap, that one broke yesterday, that one snapped when I thought about it too hard, hm. Ground broke under me there.’
> Pretty soon Fatty smiled. He
> smiled because he was pleased.
TOM: It was a quirky habit of his.
> And he was pleased because he saw
> exactly what he had been looking for. Not far below him was a big
> nest, built of sticks and lined with bark and moss.
CROW: ‘Garnished with bark and moss!’
> It was a crow’s
> nest, Fatty decided, and he lost no time in slipping down to the
> crotch of the tree where the nest was perched.
> There were four white eggs in the nest—the biggest crow’s eggs
> Fatty had ever seen.
MIKE: That’s an ostrich egg, look out!
> And he began to eat them hungrily. His nose
> became smeared with egg, but he didn’t mind that at all.
TOM: Yum, egg-flavored nose!
> He kept
> thinking how good the eggs tasted—and how he wished there were more of
MIKE: You know in the _Tale of Squawky Crow_, Fatty is one of the villains.
> There was a sudden rush through the branches of the tall tree.
> And Fatty Coon caught a hard blow on his head. He felt something sharp
> sink into his back, too.
TOM: There it is!
MIKE: Squawky Crow takes over the narrative! He’s getting to be the hero!
> And he clutched at the edge of the nest to
> keep from falling.
> Fatty was surprised, to say the least, for he had never known
> crows to fight like that.
TOM: They normally confined themselves to snarky comments, often on the Internet.
CROW: The cowards! Hey, wait.
> And he was frightened, because his back
> hurt. He couldn’t fight, because he was afraid he would fall if he let
> go of the nest.
MIKE: And there was still that meteoric crater lake from the last time he dropped four feet.
> There was nothing to do but run home as fast as he could.
CROW: Fatty’s greatest challenge: running.
> Fatty tried to hurry; but there was that bird, beating and clawing his
> back, and pulling him first one way and then another.
TOM: [ As Fatty ] Ow! Look, if you want me to go *one* way then don’t tug me *another*! Sheesh!
> He began to
> think he would never reach home. But at last he came to the old poplar
> where his mother lived.
CROW: ‘Home! Safety! Security! Oatmeal cookies!’
> And soon, to his great joy, he reached the
> hole in the big branch; and you may well believe that Fatty was glad
> to slip down into the darkness where his mother, and his brother
> Blackie, and Fluffy and Cutey his sisters, were all fast asleep.
MIKE: You my believe this … If you dare!
> was glad, because he knew that no crow could follow him down there.
CROW: To fit Fatty the hole has to be just wide enough to let a Space Shuttle slp through.
> Mrs. Coon waked up.
> She saw that Fatty’s back was sadly torn
> (for coons, you know, can see in the dark just as well as you can see
> in the daylight).
CROW: What if I need glasses?
MIKE: Well, then she wears glasses.
CROW: That … Would be adorable.
> "What on earth is the matter?" she exclaimed.
> Poor Fatty told her. He cried a little, because his back hurt
> him, and because he was so glad to be safe at home once more.
TOM: ‘Well, come here, son, let me lick that all. Nothing like raccoon spit to clean open wounds.’
> "What color were those eggs?" Mrs. Coon inquired.
> "White!" said Fatty.
> "Ah, ha!" Mrs. Coon said. "Don’t you remember that crows’ eggs
> are a blueish green?
MIKE: Oh no!
TOM: Fatty’s failure to prep for his Raccoon SAT’s haunts him!
CROW: *My* eggs are painted a lovely variety of colors in intricate patterns!
TOM: Ya freak.
> That must have been a goshawk’s nest. And a
> goshawk is the fiercest of all the hawks there are. It’s no wonder
> your back is clawed.
MIKE: [ Mrs Coon ] ‘Why is this scratch covered in Superman ice cream?’
CROW: [ Fatty ] It was an experiment, okay?
> Come here and let me look at it."
> Fatty Coon felt quite proud, as his mother examined the marks
> of the goshawk’s cruel claws.
MIKE: ‘I got attacked and ran away just fast enough! Heck, I ran!’
TOM: I ran so far away.
> And he didn’t feel half as sorry for
> himself as you might think,
> for he remembered how good the eggs had
> tasted. He only wished there had been a dozen of them.
MIKE: So what did Fatty learn about eggs, exactly?
CROW: That … He can eat them?
[ To Continue ]