The mystery author revealed. SHOCKING. WHO CAN THIS STRANGER BE?
Apparently Chester now wears shirts. I didn’t know myself to be honest. I was as surprised as anyone. Funny how your own characters can surprise you. Should be interesting to see how his fashion sense develops.
Writing badly is fun. Pretty much that’s it in a nutshell. Also again, a comic that started as a simple concept spiraled out of control. Which is good. Sometimes.
So you don’t get the eye strain and because I care, here’s the page.
CHAPTER 4
The Alien Way
SHE AWOKE AT DAWN. The sun shone through the gaping holes in the agey brickwork from the previous nights battle with the Dystopasoldierd. Felicity watched the bandage covered stranger standing in the light. The beams seemed to evoke a mysterious, paranormal twinkling from the wrappings filling her with awe.
“Thank you for saving me. I don’t remember you from the opening ceremonies of the Insomnia Challenge. Who are you?” she asked. He turned and gazed at her, his tall regal handsome rugged frame dark against the sun.
“My name is Pharaoh Phillipe Nun Photoblu and I believe together we can win the Challenge and destroy the rulers of Dystopiadome Six, returning freedom, love, and music to the people.” “But how?” she pleaded. “Our deep thoughts and emotions that none but us in the world feel make us special, but is that enough?” “Perhaps not. But…I have a secret.” he said, pausing to look at the Rebelliofire symbol on his gloves. “I…am not human. I come to your people from Saturn. Only I did not expect to find this human emotion of love.” he finished, looking at her inquisitorivaly.
“On Saturn” she said, moving closer to him, “do people express affection?” “Yes,” he began hesitantly, “but not as you earthlings know it.” “Show me” she whispered coquettishly.
He reached into his satchel. “Can you beat me into unconsciousness with this loaf of stale pumpernickel while reciting The Tay Bridge Disaster?” he breathed.
Gingerly she took the crusty bread and with a heavy
I try not to judge anyone by their taste in books or movies. My own is eclectic which I am self-aware of, and I don’t mean that in a ‘I’m a cool hipster into all the stuff no one knows about’ way. And I am ok that there are some things I hold dearly that I know are not going to be listed among the high points of culture by the futuristic alien archaeologists of 3023. Still some of the current entertainment has me at a loss. Is it me? It’s probably me. It usually is.
Two thoughts on making these inky runes. First, I really need to work on my typography. For whatever reason I do these by hand, bristol, ink, pencils…the only thing I am missing is perhaps a guttering candle and a goat hair robe. Perhaps I shall spend a day copying the phone book by hand with a quill pen in Belwe.
Also – it’s interesting how the long term story vs. one off comic alternates. After a run of one or two off comics, I start to think ‘I haven’t done anything substantial in a while. Something to really look at the characters. I shall do that.’. Then about halfway through it becomes ‘I so desperately need to draw them doing something incomprehensibly stupid.’
We’ll see how far this story goes. I’m not even sure at this point. Is that disorganized or hapless? Maybe? Yes? Probably.
Looooooooooooove…exciting and neeeeeeeeeeew. Or something.
Valentine’s Day is upon us, whether you like it or not. It may possibly be a more polarizing holiday than Christmas, evoking some intense emotions on all steps of the scale. I suspect even Eros approaches mid February with trepidation these days. But you can bet he doesn’t forget to bring home Psyche a card and box of candy, ’cause ain’t no immortal need that stress am I right?
No new comic this week. Unfortunately fate has seen to it that time was in short supply. So I drew this instead.
I believe that in anything a person pursues to really benefit from it you need to reach the point of The Ever Present Guilt. As in if you don’t keep at it or miss your schedule you feel the watchful judging eyes of the universe on you. So when I find myself in this situation, and it happens, this is pretty much the conversation in my head. Usually late at night, mind numbed by exhaustion, slumped over a blank piece of bristol, pencil in hand and drool on my chin.
Part of the time crunch is spending time at my kids school for their winter fair volunteering as a caricature artist. I did this last year and back again so am getting organized for 12 hours hunched over a board sniffing sharpies. Full disclosure: I don’t have much confidence in my caricature skillz. I went into this last year prepared to be run out by angry children with pitchforks and Frankenstein rakes screaming “SHAM!” But let me tell you, if you have never drawn for kids, you owe it to yourself to do it. Even one kid.
It’s an amazing reminder about why anyone spends time doing art in the first place. Not because they are easily impressed – because of the contagious sheer joy they have in watching someone draw…anything. Many of them get super jazzed and you can see in their faces that they want to do this too. Their excitement as they watch you work. Having a child look at you and yell to their friends, “HEY THIS GUY IS AN ARTIST!” is a real cure for any constant mild imposter syndrome.
Hearing a kid say, ‘This is so cool!’ makes you stop and remember for a moment: “You know what. This is cool.”
The bucket list of any cartoonist includes drawing a chimpanzee crazed with fear descending at an alarming 32 feet per second on some poor unsuspecting pedestrian. Maybe just me. No, I’m sure it’s every cartoonist.
I wonder how many creators find themselves as I do sometimes – penciling or inking a piece and it is as if you’re not even the one making it. I will sometimes find myself giggling as I work, not that I see myself as a comic genius but honestly as if I didn’t even have a hand in it, seeing it for the first time myself with no idea what it is going to be.
The gentleman receiving the face ape (© skroode 2015) is a friend who deserves better than a simian cabesa slam, but alas the fickle finger of fate has apparently singled him out.
Adventure was just about my favorite Atari console game when I was a kid. I spent hours avoiding dragons, exploring mazes, and getting stuck in walls as some damned bat would fly off with the bridge as I was half way through. There is a metaphor for life in there somewhere. If only real life had a Grey Dot.
When my son gets frustrated with a video game in this day and age, I usually respond with “You have no idea how good you have it. When I was your age the game was to move the dot to get the dot. While not getting hit by the dot.”
Were I Winston, I’d not give that chalice up either.
Sometimes being right is the worst thing.
The New Year is upon us, left slumbering on our doorstep by a predecessor who, quit of his responsibilities, runs off as a fugitive into the night. Or something.
On a practical note the sharing buttons have been uncloaked from the hover button to make your sharing and hand held technology more comfortable. So please share away if the spirit moves you. Even if it doesn’t really.
Wishing all the best for the coming year.
For the holiday comic the gents get a brief visit to the real world. The trip may end in chaos or skulduggery, but I imagine they enjoy it. I like to think of it as grabbing the Spirit of Christmas with both hands.
Missed a week dedicating time to the family Christmas card. Darn these holidays and their obligations. Makes you want to punch a reindeer in his stupid fat face hard enough to put out his nose.
I’m thankful this 10 year old scanner still works. Also family.
Happy Thanksgiving.
So ends another cinderball season. And before you know it, it’ll be time to start training for trash fire curling.
