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| [2008 February 24] We will return to the story very soon now. In fact, we have a few odd surprises in store which should give this particular comic some added complexity. Just... hang in there.
Hey, do you live somewhere? We all do, and just in case you're one of the lucky many who do in fact live somewhere, maybe you should rate the place and places within the place you live in. Here's a great place indeed for rating and posting reviews of those places you hate and love or love to hate or maybe even some weirdo you encountered which could just maybe be considered as a place of interest: Yelp. Here's my review of San Antonio (and since Yelp doesn't allow reviews of that size in one post, it links back to a quicky page on this site): Beautiful San Antonio!
And why the hell does JC up there remind me of Stephanie from LazyTown...? Looks like he's wearing a chef's hat. Yeah, I bet he could whip up a real pritty cake that guy... | |
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| [2008 February 24] Clint. You sound like you're talking to people who actually read the comic. I've contemplated this myth you assert of that thing we call an audience. If they actually do exist, fuck'em anyway. It's just like my family. I could detail every one of the gritty moments in their lives in the public domain without fear, because, it's not like any of them are actually going to read anything I have to say. If they do, they'll discuss it behind my back doing their damnedest to hide the fact that I might have inspired them in some way. And, of course, we wouldn't want the black sheep of the family to be given credit for any positive outcomes. That would be breaking the stereotype that I was assigned without being consulted about it first. Credit where credit is due. So if I do something that inspires you, praise yourselves for liking it. Fuck the audience. | |
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It was a damp way to say goodbye, but effective. I mean, I didn't have words to mince or time for that matter, and when you're faced with getting her out before your other girlfriend catches the two of you together.. well, that's life. And she was already just out of the shower, so I didn't see the difference. I said to myself.. okay, I said to her and myself, "It's either you or my gun, and the gun's already been polished." No... did I say that? I think I said that. I probably said.. oh, right. I said to her, "Out! Out! Out!" and said the gun thing to myself when.. I... you know, I don't think I said anything at all. It's been a rather busy night. You know how that is.
Swimming in blood, puke, and the disgorged contents of a sewer main I let my 45 stare him strait in the face while I looked around for my next move. Well, what was he gonna do? Shoot back? His staunch applause sneared at me from the darkness, my snear applauded his greasy frame as we twitched together in resolute villity. Is that how you spell villity? I didn't care. As blood red as an angry tie-dyed octopus, as slippery as a garage floor after an orgy, it smelled like an old sock in a machine shop. The gore. The words. The unspeakable sentences conforting my tongue while my brain swam in you-did-it-this-time. And all I had left was one bullet. That one bullet meant life or death for both of us, and it was gonna be his brains in my soup.
Yes, the definition of Armageddon is 'end war'. Great job! You git a star!
Pritty cake bakers say you shouldn't be mean to JC!
