Monty by Jim Meddick for March 16, 2012

fleshy would just turn it on him…

or better yet on that rich brat next door

He’s ready to defend himself from a marshmallow…

Isn’t that meant to be an electric cattle prod with which Fleshy has been armed? Hockey helmet and gloves, but instead of a hockey stick, a prod. Fleshy might just be a match for a raccoon (even so, I was surprised to see him make a rather uncharacteristic run for it in panel 2)….

Funny to see Monty grab Fleshy, and pick him up, as though he were… I dunno… a pet cat or something.

Ha! Love it :)

I guess Fleshy has reached that fork in the road where he needs to tune -in and make use of that tuning fork he has as a weapon before the Cincinnati Bengals take his head wear back.

Kind of like a baseball dad. “Stay in the box, Timmy! Don’t bail out! Ooooo, that’s got to hurt. Take your base!”

Fleshy looks like a reject from American Gladiator.

Try a towel soaked with ammonia to get rid of raccoons.

You don’t stand a chance, Fleshy.

This strip left me uninspired.

Maybe Heathclif is at large.

Fleshy’s doing the work of three men, maybe four: Moe, Curly, Larry, and Shemp.

Good Grief! Around here the racoons eat cats. Mean little devils! Run away Fleshy, RUN!

Fleshy needs more protection. Those cute furballs with masks are tough, mean and nothing gets between them and their food.

No cat is standing up to raccoon unless bobcat or bigger. Dogs don’t do well against them in a lot of cases.