It was worth the ten dollars.

But I'm not so sure that I would be saying the same thing had I paid the original twenty dollar price.

Good thing you didn't shoot him.

Racing to the scene of Rusty's possible demise with Sheriff Bill Hogg hot on his tail (and remembering to take that jack with him), Mark rushes to the sinking car, and actually seeks the assistance of the man now pointing the gun at him (though truth be told, he might not be aware of the gun). I sure hope the Jack Elrod Ball is bullet proof should Bill decide that the only way to stop Mark is to pump him full of lead. Chasing Mark down to the car, the Sheriff finally realizes that Mark was telling the truth after all when he sees Rusty in the water up to his neck being guarded by his faithful pup. Throwing his gun into the water, he immediately comes to Mark's aide and the two set about lifting the car from the now soggy child.
Rusty (and to a lesser extent, Sassy) saved, it looks like Mark has made another friend. Bill even offers to drive the two to the hospital and arrange for Mark's car to be pulled from the water (and probably fix it after all of the damage from the salt water it will have been sitting in for who knows how long). I assume that he'll also be sending someone out to pick up the car that Mark stole from the station. Those things are expensive, you know. (Of course, if he was really nice, he'd also spring for another set of clothing for the two travelers seeing as how the ones they're wearing are now sopping wet.)
Not one to shirk his responsibilities, Mark offers to pay for the window of the store (and he probably would even offer to fix it because that's just the kind of great guy that Mark Trail is). The Sheriff, probably still feeling a little bad for not believing Mark and inadvertently almost killing a small child, assures him that he doesn't have to worry about that. He also takes the opportunity to apologize again, and Mark being Mark tells him that it's okay since they saved Rusty, which makes me wonder what he would have done had Rusty perished. The Jack Elrod Ball, meanwhile, unable to locate Mark, had gone to the forest animals for help, but has just discovered that they are no longer necessary and can therefore go back to their foraging and woodland creature ways while he returns to the two travelers. Thus ends this adventure, and what a short, exciting adventure it was. I can't wait to see what trouble those two get into next.

Man on the run!

Mark continues to plead his case, but old Bill Hogg (as he shall henceforth be known) refuses to listen. In fact, he seems to be determined to follow the letter of the law and wait for Mark to see a judge before he does anything so rash as letting him out of the cell. (Sure, he'll give him some bread and maybe a little water in a tin cup, but letting him out is just out of the question.) As Mark languishes in jail, the peril continues to increase around Rusty as the tide begins to come in. Sassy faithfully remains at his side, though, so that his last moments may be filled with sloppy kisses and puppy breath. (I guess she might be feeling just a wee bit guilty since she sort of caused this predicament in the first place.) The two young'uns in danger, Mark persists in telling the Sheriff about the poor little boy and his puppy who are moments away from a watery grave, which apparently is a story that Bill hasn't heard before (and you just know that he's heard them all).
Finally abandoning his plan to gain Bill's sympathy, Mark requests his phone call and Bill agrees since he is, after all, on the side of the law and the law says that you get a phone call. (Barney Fife would be so proud.) Mark, unfortunately for Bill, has decided that since he's already broken the law once today, assaulting an officer shouldn't add too much time to his sentence, asks what seems like an innocent question and upon hearing the answer, leaps into action with his fists, knocking the Sheriff to the ground with a well-placed, hat-rattling, key-tossing punch and goes on the lam. I hope you've got yourself a good lawyer in mind, Mark, otherwise you could find yourself working on a chain gang.
Showing that he hasn't completely turned evil, and that he really, really didn't mean to hurt the older man, Mark apologizes for striking Bill as he takes his keys and heads off to save Rusty from his watery fate. Speaking of Rusty, the water level continues to rise as the tide rushes in (and that seagull is absolutely no help to him at all because he forgot his french fries in the car), and he makes a valiant effort to be brave and save Sassy by telling her to go before she joins him in his fate. The puppy, however, has decided that she'll go down with her master if she has to. After all, someone has to comfort the poor kid, what with the Jack Elrod Ball heading off to see what's keeping Mark and to get help if necessary. I hope Mark is putting the pedal to the metal (and that he remembered to take that jack he stole, or that the car he took has one in the trunk), or he might get there too late.

But when will we open presents?

The mysterious sunglassed one reveling in his ill-gotten gain, the strip flips back to the Tracy home, where Tess and Dick are just about to relax in the glow of the Christmas tree with a well-deserved cup of cocoa and crack open their presents. Unfortunately, this idyllic scene only lasts about one second as Dick gets an unexpected phone call from the chief (who apparently has no family, or through some sort of mistake in the schedule has found herself working on Christmas) who seems to be reluctant to leave the station, and has decided that it's time for Tracy to get back to work (even though he had just finished working that circus caper) and gives him another case. Yep, guess who gets to investigate not only the stolen Stradivarius, but also the attack on Phil Harmonic (who now really, really wants to kill his son). Apparently, news of the Tracy's quiet night at the symphony has become common knowledge, and since he was already there once tonight, I guess the Chief decided that Tracy was the one most qualified to take on the case. (That's what you get for trying to culture yourself.) Meanwhile, the missing son of Phil Harmonic is back on the street, his only friend a briefcase full of money (and folks, I think the kid is going to be all right), but before we can learn too much, we switch back to the edge of town, or rather, the southern edge of town and the mysterious man in the sunglasses, who finally lets us know just what he's up to. So that's it? That's the plan? Really? You're going to electrify the Stradivarius? Can you even really do that? I sure hope that you've practiced on a lower quality instrument first. You mess that violin up and you just can't go to the store and get another one (believe me, I've tried).
Meanwhile, still smarting from the phone call, Dick has to break the news to Tess that he has to leave for another case and that the presents beneath the tree will just have to go unopened. (Maybe they'll have time to crack them open by Valentine's Day.) Tess does not look too pleased by this latest turn of events so Tracy grabs his coat and makes a bee line for the door, saying something about how the case will make the department look good, and unfortunately for the Tracys, making the police look good means that he has to get to work, even though it's his day off and he had pretty much just finished that whole circus nonsense and was looking forward to a quiet night at home. (So far it hasn't been too successful. If you ever manage to get one, let me know how it works out for you there Dick.) As Tracy heads out the door, Phil Harmonic's son hits the streets and places a call to the mysterious Bruce (Campbell?) and starts making plans for the future of the band. Good thing he's got all of that money. Making yourselves look and sound good doesn't come cheap. (That, and he might have to hire a few bodyguards to protect himself from his father.)

Well, you might end up breaking them on a chain gang.

The fallout continues from the son of the Maestro's announcement that he's turning his back on the non-stop excitement of the symphony for the more mundane and ordinary life of a rock and roller. The Maestro is non too pleased by this news, what with all of the time, money, and effort he put into his son's education (that, and the fact that the little brat just lost his precious Stradivarius), but on the plus side, at least we know his name. Yes folks, continuing on with the tradition of your name is what you do, we find out that the Maestro is in fact named Phil Harmonic. We can only wonder what his son's name is and whether that name can transfer into the world of rock and roll. Granted, The Harmonics might have been a good name for a band in the forties, fifties, or even sixties, but today it sounds like a group of harmonica enthusiasts (and it is also apparently the name of quite a few a capella groups). Good luck kid, you might just need it.
Continuing on with his tirade, Phil Harmonic makes the mistake of essentially telling his offspring that he can do what he wants because he's not only his father, but also the conductor of the symphony. Unfortunately, he fails to see that because his son just quit the symphony, he doesn't feel the need to listen to his former conductor and current father. Instead, he takes more of a Dash O'Pepper course of action and punches out dear old dad (What, you don't know who Dash O'Pepper is? For shame.), and presumably flees the area, or maybe just stands around. We just can't be sure because the strip suddenly switches to another location. Oh no, not the outskirts of town! That's where all of the nefarious fiends have their hideouts! It is also apparently where the missing Stradivarius has ended up. We can only wonder what the mysterious man with the sunglasses plans to do with it. (Perhaps he wants to play his own unique renditions of "Sunglasses At Night" or "The Future's So Bright, I Gotta Wear Shades.")
Unfortunately, we're going to be left wondering what is to become of the priceless instrument. We can only rest assured that it is part of some kind of plan that the perpetrators believe to be brilliant (and I'll just leave it at that since just about every plan concocted in this strip is at one time or another thought of as brilliant, even when it's really not, and since we don't even know what the plan is, I'll reserve judgement on the brilliance of the plan until I actually know what the plan is). Meanwhile, Phil Harmonic's son decides that standing around and waiting for his father to regain consciousness is probably not the best use of his time and decides to continue his pursuit of a rock and roll career, leaving the cleanup to the balding man who I'm not sure we've ever seen (and who we might never see again). Something tells me that a certain detective is about to get a phone call.

Gee, that was fast.

Apparently, people have decided to abandon the Christmas spirit early this year (because getting angry at me or giving me attitude will really make me want to help you find what you're looking for even if we have been sold out of it since the beginning of December).

I wish someone would have told me before I went to work yesterday.

At least then I would have been prepared.

I made it.

The ice tried to stop me,

but a day late is better than never.

That's your problem,

I keep having to rewrite what you said because you kept falling into supervillain speech.

(Luckily, I believe you got better after I figured out who you really were.)

'Tis the season.

Are oranges more likely to be on sale around Christmas because some people still put them in stockings, or is it because more people are eating them for the health benefits at this time of year?

But they didn't sing it in the winter, did they?

When did "My Favorite Things" become a Christmas song? I mean, granted, there are some wintry things mentioned in it like sleigh bells, and silver white winters, and snow flakes, but there are also a lot of things that have nothing to do with winter. Was it because Diana Ross & The Supremes said it was? Perhaps. Perhaps. Perhaps.

Welcome to Hazzard County. Please enjoy your stay in one of our spacious jail cells.

After successfully breaking into the abandoned store and acquiring the jack he needs to save Rusty's life, Mark finds out that the abandoned store wasn't abandoned, just closed, as the owner of said store whacks him on the back of the head with a pipe wrench. (Oops. Hope you have a hard head, my friend. Those wrenches are pretty heavy.) Of course, it could also be that a puppy-killing, child-kidnapping, bank-robbing poacher is using the store as a base of operations, but I doubt it (even if he is dressed a lot like any one of those guys).
Nope. Guess he's just the guy who owns the store. He apparently also comes from an alternate In The Heat Of The Night/The Dukes Of Hazzard universe where the sheriff is a crooked, cigar-smoking ne'erdowell, or maybe just related to Boss Hogg. Whatever the case may be, it doesn't look good for Mark, who's headed off to jail. (I hope they don't notice the Jack Elrod Ball and arrest it too. Then Rusty would have no one to depend on but Sassy and those do-nothing pelicans who've probably already flown away.) Better call Roscoe, Enos, or Tibbs to take care of that window. A broken store window is an open invitation to all sorts of crime (and forest critters).
Regaining consciousness a short time later, Mark awakens to find himself in jail (and not the fun jail like they have on The Andy Griffith Show where you get a nice bed and a table and a lamp and maybe even curtains). He immediately starts to plead his case, confessing that yes, he did break into the store, but it was only to save a little boy. The sheriff, unfortunately, does not look impressed as he probably hears that sort of story once a week or so. The bars on the cell, though, always on the lookout for a new joke, seem to be getting a lot of enjoyment out this. Mark, if I were you, I'd ask for my phone call and try to get this straightened out. (Maybe you should call over to Judge Parker and see if one of them can tear themselves away from that murder investigation and help you out.)

A Stradivarius should not have a sticker that says "Made In China" on it.

Son of the Maestro should have listened to his brother/alternate personality. He knew that our old pal the Maestro would never fall for a cheap imitation of a very valuable instrument. (Everyone knows that. Even I know that.) To prove how worthless that counterfeit violin is, the Maestro even whacks his son on the head with it, demonstrating the cheap construction that can't hold up under the stress of being beaten against a rock. The fake done away with, he demands to know where the real one is, not so much because the poor first chair violinist needs it back (because you should have seen him out there at the concert. It was so...beautiful.), but because, it is, after all, a priceless violin and the Stradivarius family just isn't making them anymore (if the Stradivarius family even still exists). Unfortunately, we may never find out just why he wants it because beating the boy is just so darn fun (and if the cops come, he can just say it was self-defense or something like that).
His curiosity getting the better of him, the Maestro finally relents and ceases his assault. (My guess is that there was nothing left of the fake violin, so he really didn't have a choice.) It is here that Son of the Maestro begins his tale of woe. Poor guy, he's only third chair, and he doesn't even seem to like playing in the orchestra considering that he calls it the fiddle section and not the strings section (unless this is some sort of Bluegrass orchestra). Better watch your tongue, Junior. There doesn't appear to be anyone in the concert hall right now except for you and your father, and well, let's just say that accidents happen (especially in this comic strip).
Ah, now it's starting to get a little clearer (even though that second panel looks more like Son of the Maestro is being chewed out by either Dagwood Bumstead or an alien in a tuxedo). Mr. Maestro, have you ever considered that maybe your boy, having been raised on the violin (and presumably banned from participating in sports, rough-housing, Boy Scouts, and other fun activities that don't concern the violin), might have been burned out on the instrument? Especially since it seems that he doesn't want to turn his back on music and performing completely, just your kind? I'd say that's a good possibility. I wonder how dear old dad will react to his son wanting to be the guitarist in a rock band (I hear they get all the chicks, though with his hair, he really should have done this during the heyday of the hair bands, but I guess he was too busy practicing the violin).

Picture if you will...

What if Lost In Space was just a daydream cooked up by little Anthony Fremont and none of it ever really actually existed?

What if he also cooked up the audience so none of us actually exist either?

Woah.

And now for a little B&E.

Mark high tails it through the forest to the store he saw from the road, but when he gets there, he finds that it's closed (and probably has been for many many years since it says that the price of gas is twenty-five cents a gallon). Uh oh. Looks like the economy might be about to take another victim, and this time it's out for blood...or maybe not. Fortunately, while the store may be closed, it would seem that the previous owners (or maybe the current owners who only open during the busy season when there actually people at the beach who need to buy things) left all of their wares behind. (Do you think that they'll have have peppermint candies and whittling knives and cooking pots?)
Desperate times call for desperate measures, and disregarding the fact that his last couple of adventures have dealt with crime and how it's wrong, Mark picks up the nearest barrel and hurls it through the window of the store. (I hope that he intends to fix the window, or at least notify the proper authorities.) Entering the store, and initially beginning to give up any hope of finding something useful, Mark spies a jack (which is probably only about fifty years old and rusted up). What luck! Don't just stand there, man! Grab it and go! There's a boy in trouble and he needs your help! (Because those pelicans have proven to be pretty darn worthless.)

You should be more concerned about the lobstrosities.

Well, Sassy seems to have managed to avoid being crushed by the car. Rusty, on the other hand, was not so lucky. He almost made it. He was so close, but since close only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades, he's now in quite the predicament. The only thing that's possibly keeping him from losing that leg is the fact that he's lying on the sand and not the cement of a driveway. Mark, first making sure that his young charge is relatively okay, leaps into action and grabs the jack, only to discover that it's broken. (Way to go Sassy.) Maybe he should try asking those pelicans for help, or start collecting rocks, or release his inner Incredible Hulk (or, you know, he could just go for help).
Deciding that he can't do anything by himself, and remembering that they passed by a general store before he accidentally drove the car off the road, Mark decides the only thing to do is to go for help. Rusty (who seems to be unusually calm in this situation. I would have thought that a kid would cry and scream a lot more, but perhaps living with Mark has made Rusty far more comfortable with death than I thought.) tries to ease Mark's fears by assuring him that he'll be all right. After all, his leg is getting numb, so he can't really feel the pain any more. Um, Rusty, that's a bad sign. That probably means that the blood isn't getting to where it needs to go, or you're going into shock. Mark, you'd better get moving before Rusty doesn't have a leg to stand on (or one less anyway). Oh yeah, and the tide will be coming in soon, and if it does, that leg will be the least of Rusty's problems, and you're going to have to have a very uncomfortable conversation with Cherry and Doc (and we'll all be very, very sad).

A little culture will turn that frown upside down.

On the dark streets of Tracyville, the Maestro's son (who has yet to be named) is approached by a mysterious car filled with mysterious men and the deal is made: two million dollars for a violin made by a certain Mr. Stradivarius, and both sides appear to be relatively happy with the agreement. The son has his money to do with as he wishes and the mysterious men in the car can move on to the next part of their plan (which they have not told us anything more about and which we may never know unless a certain gumshoe gets pulled into this caper). As all of this goes down, the concert finally gets underway and not a moment too soon as Tess looks like she's about two seconds from socking Dick for all of his grumblings (that, and perhaps she's just discovered that tattoo on his neck, and we all know how she feels about those...well, I guess we don't, but still...). Let's hope he enjoys the music and won't make snide comments the whole way through. After all, there are other people at the concert who paid good money weeks in advance to hear this music.
Meanwhile, the Maestro's son celebrates his new wealth...or not. It looks like he got a little more than money there. He must be dealing with a high caliber class of crooks seeing as how it would appear that they gave him a fake violin to give to dear old dad, even if the old man could probably tell it was a fake just by looking at it, let alone hearing it. But wait, how many sons does he have anyway? This strip gets mighty confusing for a moment and leaves me thinking that the kid might be having second thoughts, has a previously unknown and unseen brother, or has some sort of split personality disorder where his darker half ends up bickering with his lighter half. (It's probably just second thoughts, but still, we do need a nemesis for this potential case, and those guys in the car were promising, but they've already driven away.) Oh well, back to Tess and Dick, who seem to be having a grand time at the symphony. Too bad it won't last.
Oh my! Look there! He's smiling! He's actually really smiling! Looks like all it took to get Dick to feel better after all of those problems at the circus was a little music from a couple hundred years ago. Way to go Tess! (Too bad it probably won't last much longer.) Meanwhile, the wayward son of the Maestro returns with the fake violin and a briefcase full of money (which is another sign that he's dealing with a high class of criminal since they didn't just use a sack with a dollar sign on it but instead used a more inconspicuous briefcase). Unfortunately, dear old dad is still pretty peeved and has decided that it might just be better to rid himself of the kid once and for all. (He probably won't, seeing as how he's using the word could, but you know, accidents happen.) Looks like Tracy could be losing that smile sooner than I thought.

If you don't want to wait in line,

Shop early in the morning or late at night.

Otherwise, please don't act like it's my fault there's a line.

(There was no one there two minutes ago, I swear!)

Something profound should go right here.

Alas, this is all you get for now.

Gravity is your friend...unless it isn't.

A rogue deer, not bothering to find a crosswalk, dashes across the road, directly into the path of Mark's station wagon. Fearing that it's a friend of Sherlock Hooves or Faline Adler, Mark swerves to the side. As he, Rusty, and Sassy go careening off of the road (and presumably off of a cliff), the deer also heads into trouble, altering its path and unintentionally heading towards a collision with a seagull. They'll all be killed! Oh the humanity!
Or not. We shall assume that the deer and gull avoided each other, or maybe just got away with only a glancing blow. Mark, Rusty, and Sassy also managed to survive, crashing onto the beach, but unfortunately, while the three passengers got away relatively unscathed (except for the emotional trauma of the incident, of course) the station wagon was not so lucky and lost a tire on some rocks. I suppose it could be worse. It could have lost an axle or something like that, and yet, it could still be worse. Sassy, wild with freedom, goes running up and down the beach with Rusty trailing behind as he futilely tries to corral her. The rambunctious puppy dives under the precariously balanced car and as Rusty reaches for her, she backs right into the jack, which cannot be a good thing and signals the beginning of yet another adventure (or a very, very sad tale).

Knocked off balance by a mischievous puppy's rump, the jack falls away and with it the car. Unfortunately, Rusty was still trying to retrieve the wayward pup and is only able to get mostly out of the way of the falling vehicle, weighed down by camping equipment and that tool box (which will probably fall on his as well just to add insult to injury). Helpless to do anything in the split second disaster, Mark can only call out in alarm to the probably seriously injured boy. Way to go Mark. After all, the best way to take a young boy's mind off of poachers and the attempted murder of his puppy is for the puppy and the boy to be crushed by a falling car that will either leave both of them dead or one dead and one paralyzed or both paralyzed. Bravo, my friend. Bravo.

I think some of them might have been wearing wigs.

Looks like Dick has changed his mind about going to the symphony, deciding that it might not be possible to relax there. (Come on, Dick, it's not like Tess is taking you to a thrash metal concert. It's the symphony. Sure, some of the music might be pretty exciting, but some can also be very relaxing. Give it a chance, man, give it a chance.) He's also decided that the symphony is where the long-hair music is, which I suppose is true considering that men used to wear their hair long back then, but maybe he should also remember that people are still composing classical music today, so there are plenty of short-haired composers and musicians as well. Meanwhile, stepping away from this oh-so-exciting exchange between Tess and Dick, we turn back to the mysterious caller man's son (who does happen to have long, lovely, flowing locks) who also happens to be on the phone, talking to another mysterious person about that thing that he stole from his father that his father really, really wants back.
Turning back to the Tracy's, dragged to the symphony, Dick has decided to take the same route he took when Tess and Bonnie dragged him to the circus: complain about everything. (What's next? Are you going to say that you could hear this music on the radio at home?) Leaving Dick's grousings about seat locations behind, we go backstage at the symphony, where the first chair violinist has just received some disturbing news from the mysterious caller man, who is apparently the Maestro of this particular symphonic ensemble (and shall henceforth be known as the Maestro). Apparently he's going to have to improvise, which means that he's either lost the sheet music or the violin. If it's the music, so long as he doesn't have any solos, he can probably just fake it, or look on the music of the person next to him. If it's the violin, however, he's got his work cut out for him, and he can either pretend to play an imaginary instrument while humming the notes, or just go freestyle and beatbox it. Good luck, sir. I know you'll make the right decision.
Meanwhile, as tragedy strikes the first chair violinist, the reason for his distress is revealed as we see the Maestro's son continue walking through the city carrying a violin case (even though we can only assume that there's actually a violin in there and not a Tommy Gun). Looks like he's trying to get some money for the supposed violin, but why? Is it for drugs? Does he want plenty of change for the bell ringers and their red kettles? Is he in trouble with iTunes because downloading individual songs is just so darn easy? Does he need money for Christmas presents? Is he trying to start a new life under an assumed name? Does he need a new scarf because he's tired of everyone asking him if he's from those Harry Potter movies? The mind reels.

What happened to the joy?

When did it become fashionable to change traditional Christmas songs so that they now sound depressing or creepy? For that matter, when did they start making the main characters sound bitter (Rudolph, I'm looking at you), or make it seem like the song should be heard in a horror movie right before something bad happens? I mean, I can understand this new take working with certain songs that lend themselves to it, but not most of the ones I've heard lately.

(And when am I going to hear some of those scary ghost stories?)

There is a sound of silence.

It's a roar.

It let's you know you're still alive.

These are the facts:

I am not writing a microcosm, but life will go on after the tale ends.