Recent sketchtastic

That's my 49th time drawing that particular head.  And my first time drawing that figure, doing her hair.  No, I'm afraid the excitement doesn't ever stop.  Here's to keeping on.

Coded Spy Nonsense

A brief history of spying in the modern world:

What do Dolly Parton and the Dalai Llama have in common?  Wealth!("Common Wealth" is a sneaky segue.  I worked on that one for hours.))  They're both Russian sleeper spies!  Don't believe me?  That's because they're very good at what they do.  Dalai and Dolly together make up the Cabbage Patch Cell.

What is it, specifically, a Russian sleeper spy does, you ask?  Well, they nap!  Sleeper spy is a term that comes from the cold war era.  As you know, it takes more energy for your body to warm itself, so very often people got tired.  The Russian spies especially would become narcoleptic during their winter time stake-outs.

In 1954, to combat these Russian intelligence agents, the British trained their own super spy.  They called him, Bond.  Ionic Bond.  He worked by attracting charged criminals into his lair, and making them kill the girls he liked.  It didn't help the British out very much.  Mostly it just made the Russians very angry, because of how many Russian girls Mr. Bond liked.  Luckily, the sleeper agents were too groggy to form a coherent counterattack.

The dissolving of the USSR in 1991 also caused the British's chemical Bond agents to disappear, and now only sleeper cells exist.  No one is really sure, but there have been numerous suppositions that those cells are in the pancreas and liver, waiting for the right time to strike.

The Modern Amazonian Worrier Woman

With a spear in hand, and worry in her heart the modern day Amazonian Worrier Woman strives to remember... did she, or didn't she leave the oven on?

Another Short Story

Here's another story I'm trying out: The man waited, for love.

At first glance it's quite boring, yes?  Waiting is hardly interesting.  But, for love?  Well that's intriguing.  Was he hoping love would find him, sitting patiently and knowingly expecting it's arrival within the hour?  Or is it more, he was in this dreadfully boring situation in the first place, because he promised love he would.

Either way, I was still waiting.  It has been some time since someone played the keep me waiting game.  But this boy could play.  Luckily I've an air of nonchalance that infuriates people who want me to get angry about waiting.  It doesn't make things happen faster, but it does make them mad.

Then I met with Bruno and now I'm off to... What's that?  You want more details on how the meeting went?  Well, I suppose I could humor you.

Bruno's office looked much the way you'd expect a mass murderer's office to look.  Large picture of himself on the wall in the old style.  Very large comfortable chair on his side of the desk, uncomfortable folding chair on your side.  Thug standing in the shadows of the corner of the room.  Sun blocked out, you know.

Not fully knowing why I was there, I opened with a "Well, let us get down to business then, shall we?"  Hoping of course, that Bruno would fill in the missing parts of my understanding.

He responded in his own way, "Well yes, Mr. Penterbottom.  You have until Friday.  If I am still in want of it by Friday, I will break your legs."

As if I wasn't quite sure what he meant with his subtle implication there, he brought in some poor schlup and had his legs broken by the shadowy thug.  Okay, not Bruno's legs to be clear, but the poor schlup's legs rather.  Again, I'm not quite sure on the etiquette of breaking someone's knees.  I feel the thug went a little over board with insulting the schlup's mother and kicking him in the ribs after the fact.

"Any questions?" Bruno intoned.

"What do you mean 'break my legs?'"  I'll admit, that wasn't, in hindsight, a good question to ask.  Nor was it wise to imitate his accent and put one of his cigars in my mouth.  Shadowy quickly broke two of my fingers.  Two fingers I was rather fond of, the pinky and the ring.

"Like that, only lower." Bruno responded, and then turned to his desk in a way that said our conversation has ended.  I resisted, though it was difficult, explaining that no matter how low I was to the ground when he broke my fingers, that would not be like breaking my legs.  I did not however, resist leaving his office quite quickly, nor did I resist looking deeply hurt at Shadowy.  He would not be getting invitations to any of my holiday parties.

Another story to leave you with: Splints on a Shoestring Budget.  

Lights!

Lights are like a metaphor for life.  ((Which is a simile.))  Lights have switches, and lights can be either on, or off.  If you know where the switch is you can turn them on and off.  Just like life.  Sometimes, the light will still work, but you need to replace the bulb because it burned out.  Burning out happens.  Some lights are on sliders, which adds more control to how much light they put out.  Just like people, who are on sliders, where you can control how much light they put out.  ((Boy do I love metaphors.))

Some lights, are just creepy.  They sit in the men's bathroom and make you feel uncomfortable the whole time you're trying to pee.  Other lights are really very pretty, and you'd just like to spend some time with them.  Basking in their warmth.

Some lights are on bridges, and sometimes they fall off.  Some lights are inside of cars, and they drown in lakes.  Really, lights are very human when you think about it.  They're controlled by electrical impulses.

Some lights are douchnozzles.  Some lights you have sex with, and get the shock of your life from.  See?  Lights are a perfect metaphor for life.  In every way.  What ways can you think of that lights are like life?

Well, it is a start!

Dear readers,
I've been wondering.  What kind of fork would a baseball player use to eat?  I have this finely sketched picture for you to view, and learn.

Oh, a pitch fork!  Quite!  Ha-ha-ha.  Ha-ha-ha.  Hahahhaha.  Hah.  Hum.  Sorr.. hahaha.  Hahahah.  Hah. Hemph. Heh.  Hah.  Heh.  Ha... Oh, phew, what a doozy.  Quite the punch line eh?  

Also, over the past week I've drawn some faces.  This one has some redeeming value. 

A Short Story

Mr. Penterbottom here.  I was hoping to share some short stories I've been working on. (1.) A boy wanted ice cream.  He threw a fit.  He got ice cream. (2.) A girl leaves crying.

Now, after writing those I wondered, which one is the best story?  Obviously!  It's the girl who leaves crying.  Why can't the boy compete?  You already know everything about him.  He wants ice cream.  He is not tortured.  He is lusting after a silly indulgence.  But, the crying dame.  Is she not distressed?  Is it not our sworn duty to protect her?  Here we're supposed to ignore flippant children.  Possibly, though some do disagree, hit them when they're being too flippant.  I myself am not one for hitting children, but that's only because I was, in fact, hit.

Oh anyways, back to the girl.  Why did she leave crying?  That's the mystery.  Surely it was... heartbreak?  Perhaps.  As you know love can begin with a look.  Well, maybe the gaze was broken.  Or maybe he looked away entirely from this girl.  Oh one can't always be sure when it comes to looks.  Eyes are hard to follow.  Why once, I was chasing a pair down alleyways and through slums in New York City.  Never did catch them.  I tried for days though.  A glimpse here, a hint there.

Sidetracked again.  That girl, the crying one.  As immaterial as she was before, she became in fact a centerpiece of my life's story.  She set me on my current path as it were.  Let me just say, and remember this, nothing good will come of comforting a crying girl.  But, as they say, "Resistance is futile."  Ha-ha. Hah.  Forgive me, humor from before your time.

Now, I'm off to see Bruno.  Yes, I'm afraid you guessed it.  He is in fact the boy who wanted ice cream.  All grown up.  Well, as all grown up as such a child could become.

Double Post Day!

That's right!  Two posts in one day.((The second is incoming.))  But I didn't want to overload the other post with silly babble about how things work and so-on.

There's a new schedule in town.  It is as follows:
-Monday -> Recurring character day!  Just when you thought you'd heard the last of him*, he'll be back!  So, if you read the writing here, but want more consistency, come back on Mondays.

-Wednesday -> Comic day!  Or general kind of art day.  I'll draw a thing, and then post a thing.  That will be followed up with you viewing a thing.  If that's your thing, kinda thing.

-Friday -> A humorous non-fiction piece.  With possible fictional content.


*He may be a she.  Not necessarily.  But possibly.

We're all excited over here about these new changes, let us know how you feel about them.  Excited?  Content?  Exuberant?