Friday, December 30, 2011
December Challenge: Ruxin, The Renegade Reindeer
Thursday, December 22, 2011
Monday, December 19, 2011
First Day on the Job
Jesse looked up, eyes pleading, at his mother. She dished scalloped potatoes to Ron, his kid brother, then turned her head and said, “I think it’s a great idea. You’re plenty mature enough, and you’ve been asking for more allowance.” “I wanted a raise in my allowance.” “And instead you’ve got a job.”
Mrs. Viscetti picked him up in her black Escalade at 5:30. He’d stuffed two grilled cheese and swallowed half the bowl of tomato soup his mother had made just as the doorbell rang. Then he sat glued to the chair. “If I don’t answer, maybe she’ll get another neighbor kid to do this,” he thought to himself. Ron giggled and spit a mouthful of potato onto his bib. “Gross,” Jesse thought.
“Jesse, Veronica is here!”
Jesse grabbed his backpack, weighted down with his algebra homework, and slouched next to his mother. She absently patted and fingered his hair as she made small talk with the short, dark haired woman in the doorway. Jesse could smell old smoke and heady perfume on the furs that Mrs. Viscetti had draped in layers on her small frame. She looked like a child dressed like a bear, dressed like a socialite.
In the car, Mrs. Viscetti rolled down all the windows and sucked hard on a cigarette. “Smoke?” she offered him the pack. Jesse took the pack, opened it, then placed it back on the console between them. “Uh. No thanks.” He chewed on his upper lip. “So, Charlotte must be in second grade now?” Mrs. Viscetti coughed loudly, the car veering sharply into the oncoming lane for a moment before she swore, flung the half cigarette out the windo, and righted the car. “Oh yes, she’s the star of her class. Very bright, very bright. For a little one, that is. Takes after her father so much.” She made a grimace into the vanity mirror attached to the visor and applied another layer of lipstick to her already coated lips. “You’ll have so much fun with her.”
The Viscetti house was in a gated community only a few miles from Jesse’s house. He used to come over to play with the Viscetti’s older son, Carlo. That was all before Carlo disappeared when they were both eight. In the six years since, Mrs. Viscetti and Jesse’s mom still met for lunch at least once a month, and their fathers would chat at Jesse’s baseball games. That’s how Jesse and Carlo first met, at a little league clinic. Even now, Jesse remembered the huge basement that opened onto a backyard that at the time was paradise. It had great trees for climbing, tall privacy hedges, a pool house, and a rose garden that put those in his mother’s Home and Garden magazines to shame.
“Thank you so much for being available on short notice, dear.” Mrs. Viscetti stayed in the car as Jesse unloaded and stood at the top of the circular driveway, the house, brightly lit from the outside, looming over him. Jesse barely had the door shut before the SUV sped away, bouncing as it ran over a bicycle in the driveway. He shrugged his backpack over one shoulder and opened the front door.
“Hi. Hi. I’m Charlotte.” The chubby girl in butterfly patterned footie pajamas stood up straight in the entryway.
“I’m Jesse, your” “BABYSITTER!” Charlotte interrupted him, squealing, then ran at him, nearly knocking Jesse out the door as she threw her arms around his legs and buried her face in his belly. “Mmp thlo hpffe tboo …” Jesse pushed at her shoulders and she kept speaking as her mouth moved away from the fabric. “have you here! Let’s play. Let’s, um, let’s play, um,” Charlotte let go of Jesse’s legs and looked around the room. “Um, let’s play house and I’m the mommy and you’re my husband and, uh …”
Jesse watched Charlotte dash off into one or another of the many rooms, then put his coat and backpack next to the door on top of a pile of shoes. “Hello?” He made a half-hearted call out to Charlotte, then walked into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. He knelt down and pushed aside cans of diet soda and lime sparkling water, until he found a can of Mountain Dew lying on its side. He briefly considered the can of Miller next to it, then stood. One hand on the door, he stopped.
The can of Dew dropped to the ground and began to hiss from the puncture, misting soda onto his pant legs. Taped to a take out box was a note. Jesse pulled it off, rubbed his eyes and shut the fridge door.
“Heeyyyy Jesseeeeee! Come find me!” He heard Charlotte wail with glee from somewhere upstairs. He put the note in his back pocket and reached for the phone on the breakfast nook. With jittery hands, he dialed home. After the second ring, he nearly hung up, but then the line answered.
“Mom.” “Jesse, shouldn’t you be taking care of Charlotte? The Viscetti’s are expecting a lot from you!” “But mom, there’s a problem” “Good god Jesse, she’s a child. Play some games, give her a little snack, and make sure she brushes her teeth before bedtime.” “What if Mrs. Viscetti left weird instructions?” He could hear her gasp and yell at Ron to get his hands out of his mouth. “You’re a grown boy, Jess, just do your job. If Veronica wants something done, she probably has a good reason for it. Some of your friends would probably think we do things weird around our house too.”
Jesse pulled the note back out of his pocket and re-read it. He took a deep breath. “Mom, it’s really weird though. She wants me to…” “Jesse, go babysit.” “Mom!"
She’d hung up. He looked at the note again.
“Hi Jesse! Help yourself to anything in the fridge. Please make sure Charlotte is dead before 10pm. No late TV!! (P.S. You can watch all the TV you want) – Veronica and Carl V.”
Mrs. Viscetti picked him up in her black Escalade at 5:30. He’d stuffed two grilled cheese and swallowed half the bowl of tomato soup his mother had made just as the doorbell rang. Then he sat glued to the chair. “If I don’t answer, maybe she’ll get another neighbor kid to do this,” he thought to himself. Ron giggled and spit a mouthful of potato onto his bib. “Gross,” Jesse thought.
“Jesse, Veronica is here!”
Jesse grabbed his backpack, weighted down with his algebra homework, and slouched next to his mother. She absently patted and fingered his hair as she made small talk with the short, dark haired woman in the doorway. Jesse could smell old smoke and heady perfume on the furs that Mrs. Viscetti had draped in layers on her small frame. She looked like a child dressed like a bear, dressed like a socialite.
In the car, Mrs. Viscetti rolled down all the windows and sucked hard on a cigarette. “Smoke?” she offered him the pack. Jesse took the pack, opened it, then placed it back on the console between them. “Uh. No thanks.” He chewed on his upper lip. “So, Charlotte must be in second grade now?” Mrs. Viscetti coughed loudly, the car veering sharply into the oncoming lane for a moment before she swore, flung the half cigarette out the windo, and righted the car. “Oh yes, she’s the star of her class. Very bright, very bright. For a little one, that is. Takes after her father so much.” She made a grimace into the vanity mirror attached to the visor and applied another layer of lipstick to her already coated lips. “You’ll have so much fun with her.”
The Viscetti house was in a gated community only a few miles from Jesse’s house. He used to come over to play with the Viscetti’s older son, Carlo. That was all before Carlo disappeared when they were both eight. In the six years since, Mrs. Viscetti and Jesse’s mom still met for lunch at least once a month, and their fathers would chat at Jesse’s baseball games. That’s how Jesse and Carlo first met, at a little league clinic. Even now, Jesse remembered the huge basement that opened onto a backyard that at the time was paradise. It had great trees for climbing, tall privacy hedges, a pool house, and a rose garden that put those in his mother’s Home and Garden magazines to shame.
“Thank you so much for being available on short notice, dear.” Mrs. Viscetti stayed in the car as Jesse unloaded and stood at the top of the circular driveway, the house, brightly lit from the outside, looming over him. Jesse barely had the door shut before the SUV sped away, bouncing as it ran over a bicycle in the driveway. He shrugged his backpack over one shoulder and opened the front door.
“Hi. Hi. I’m Charlotte.” The chubby girl in butterfly patterned footie pajamas stood up straight in the entryway.
“I’m Jesse, your” “BABYSITTER!” Charlotte interrupted him, squealing, then ran at him, nearly knocking Jesse out the door as she threw her arms around his legs and buried her face in his belly. “Mmp thlo hpffe tboo …” Jesse pushed at her shoulders and she kept speaking as her mouth moved away from the fabric. “have you here! Let’s play. Let’s, um, let’s play, um,” Charlotte let go of Jesse’s legs and looked around the room. “Um, let’s play house and I’m the mommy and you’re my husband and, uh …”
Jesse watched Charlotte dash off into one or another of the many rooms, then put his coat and backpack next to the door on top of a pile of shoes. “Hello?” He made a half-hearted call out to Charlotte, then walked into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. He knelt down and pushed aside cans of diet soda and lime sparkling water, until he found a can of Mountain Dew lying on its side. He briefly considered the can of Miller next to it, then stood. One hand on the door, he stopped.
The can of Dew dropped to the ground and began to hiss from the puncture, misting soda onto his pant legs. Taped to a take out box was a note. Jesse pulled it off, rubbed his eyes and shut the fridge door.
“Heeyyyy Jesseeeeee! Come find me!” He heard Charlotte wail with glee from somewhere upstairs. He put the note in his back pocket and reached for the phone on the breakfast nook. With jittery hands, he dialed home. After the second ring, he nearly hung up, but then the line answered.
“Mom.” “Jesse, shouldn’t you be taking care of Charlotte? The Viscetti’s are expecting a lot from you!” “But mom, there’s a problem” “Good god Jesse, she’s a child. Play some games, give her a little snack, and make sure she brushes her teeth before bedtime.” “What if Mrs. Viscetti left weird instructions?” He could hear her gasp and yell at Ron to get his hands out of his mouth. “You’re a grown boy, Jess, just do your job. If Veronica wants something done, she probably has a good reason for it. Some of your friends would probably think we do things weird around our house too.”
Jesse pulled the note back out of his pocket and re-read it. He took a deep breath. “Mom, it’s really weird though. She wants me to…” “Jesse, go babysit.” “Mom!"
She’d hung up. He looked at the note again.
“Hi Jesse! Help yourself to anything in the fridge. Please make sure Charlotte is dead before 10pm. No late TV!! (P.S. You can watch all the TV you want) – Veronica and Carl V.”
Thursday, December 15, 2011
Top 50 Characters
CBR recently put together a top 50 Marvel and DC character list as voted by their readers. I decided to make this list part of my daily warmup/practice. So far I am up to #47. Doing this list has made me realize I am not that familar with Marvel/DC characters. So I decided to make my own list as well.
I am updating these once a week over at my website http://www.walterostlie.com/
I am updating these once a week over at my website http://www.walterostlie.com/
PVT Squeakems
PVT Squeakems was a mouse featured in the Bill Murray movie: 'Scrooged.' Murray's character pretended to almost staple tiny antlers to his head. In real life, when the cameras weren't rolling, he actually DID. Squeakems went nuts and started killing everyone on set. This is a little known story. Thankfully, Santa and his Woodland Creature Commandos enlisted him in order to put his murderous tendencies to good use.
Wednesday, December 14, 2011
Saturday, December 10, 2011
Thursday, December 8, 2011
Friday, December 2, 2011
Hero Action Persons Join the Devil
So the last couple weeks has been a flurry of activity. Driving the long road of bringing Victoire and the gang out into the world and suddenly we just hit the turbo nitros!
Devil's Due Digital is now the official publisher of Hero Action Persons!
So go over to Amazon and download all 5 issues or all together as one book.
You can also get them at Barnes & Noble too!
More NEWS on the way!
Thursday, December 1, 2011
DECEMBER CHALLENGE!!
In the cold winter of 1939, Santa Claus was left with a troubling dilema. To deliver his presents to all the good girls and boys he needed the help of a special talent. A gifted woodland creature named Rudolph used his glowing nose mutant abilities to guide Santa's sleigh through the foggy night. Thus on this night the Woodland Creature Commandos (WCC) was founded. Super elite animals called upon by Santa to do the dirty work. Handle the thankless jobs no one else can.
So let's see 'em Odd-Ks! Let's see your Woodland Creature Commando!
Below is my work-in-progress.
Tuesday, November 29, 2011
Thursday, November 17, 2011
November Challenge: How to Catch Bigfoot
This was a tough one. After weeks of painstaking research I finally called up our old friend and Master Satanist of the 20th Century: Aleister Crowley. He was kind enough to send me this rare photograph of a full proof method in action that he hit upon many years ago. The key is in the discovery that the Loch Ness monster is actually the GHOST of a DINOSAUR. And Nessie and the Yeti are nature's worst enemies. But of course now the problem is: once you got 'em...what do you do with 'em?? Maybe that's next month's challenge.
Monday, November 14, 2011
Monday, November 7, 2011
Sunday, November 6, 2011
Wednesday, November 2, 2011
Tuesday, November 1, 2011
CAPTURING BIGFOOT METHOD 3
It’s kind of smelly but no worse than a teenager’s room.
A good way to trap Bigfoot is to get him where he lives. Thanks to his distinctive footprints, Bigfoot can be easily tracked to the cave in which he dwells. You can tell if it is indeed Bigfoot’s cave if the walls are covered with issues of The Weekly World News he’s appeared in and lingerie from his many groupies. Place a bear trap in Bigfoot’s bed or under his stack of homemade porn and wait. When you hear some expletives coming from the cave, you know your trap has clamped onto some Sasquatch flesh. Only enter Bigfoot’s cave while he’s out. Be very careful though. If Bigfoot finds you messing with his stuff, he will beat you.
CAPTURING BIGFOOT METHOD 2
Save me Orlando!
A good way to trap Bigfoot is to trick him into falling into a concealed pit. Once you have dug out a very deep pit (Bigfoot’s a large dude you know), camouflage it with some branches and dead leaves so it looks like the forest floor. Prop a photo of Orlando Bloom lightly on top of the hidden pit to entice Bigfoot to come over. As Bigfoot comes to investigate the studly Mr. Bloom, he will fall into the pit and be entirely at your mercy!
CAPTURING BIGFOOT METHOD 1
I only watch it for the car wrecks.
Do you want to capture Bigfoot but are kind of on the lazy side? No problem. A very easy way to catch Bigfoot is to set up a small television playing NASCAR races. Once Bigfoot is mesmerized by fast cars driving around in circles, you have a nice steady target to shoot with a tranquilizer dart. It's very important, though, that you do not get curious and try a little tranquilizer on yourself.
NOVEMBER CHALLENGE
Howdy ho blogerinos. Gabe asked me to give y'all your November Challenge. - You have one hour to make 3 dishes out of our secret ingredient... CATFISH!
Oh wait - that's Iron Chef... For your blog challenge - HOW WOULD YOU CAPTURE BIGFOOT?
We all need to get on board if we ever hope to capture Samsquantch so get to work on your ideas!
Oh wait - that's Iron Chef... For your blog challenge - HOW WOULD YOU CAPTURE BIGFOOT?
We all need to get on board if we ever hope to capture Samsquantch so get to work on your ideas!
Friday, October 28, 2011
Sequential Practice
A little something different this week. Sequentials!
Not only that, but I go a little into the process from different thumbnails up to a semi completed page.
This is my first attempt at a layout. I don't have a script, I am just spit balling right now. I know I want a city, PITT and Spartan. I always loved PITT. He was just so brutal and made no apologize for not being anything more then that. And then Spartan (or is it Cyclops?) I just really dug his design. I didn't understand his leg fins but I didn't care.
So that first panel is supposed to be a city...hey I am just thumbnailing, leave me alone. Then Spartan faces off with a foot. Then close up of Spartan. Then PITT being stoic. Then fight. Then PITT chokes out Spartan.
I thought it was a little tight and the panels didn't really breath. There was no WOW moment either. All the panels are about the same size too.
So this is the second attempt. There may have been a couple other panel sketches. I will try to keep better track of all my skribbles and not erase them all.
Starts with the city. Then PITT crouching in foreground, Spartan in background. CU of Spartan and then aggressive PITT. Then attack.
Not much different then the first one. I thought the panels had more room and panel 4 was more exciting. But PITT was way too small in the last panel. LAME. I do like panel 4's PITT pose but it wasn't meant to be.
Here I get rid of the cityscape and just show the side of the building with a energy blast and PITT jumping to safety. Tried a more interesting composition in panel 2 with PITT kneeling in the foreground and framing Spartan in the background. But the pose didn't really work with the shot, his leg would have been in the way.
This one didn't change much, I tried to make PITT bigger in the last panel. But it still was too small for me.
OK, now I am getting annoyed. Sequentials are tough. There are a million ways to draw something but prolly only a handful of good ones.
So we go back to the cityscape. panel 2 I decide to show full bodies on both characters plus some buildings. Then we do a close up on PITT, notice he is on the other side. The Spartan charges up. Then ATTACK.
PITT is pretty large in this last panel, which I like. I prolly tried to draw the last panel 20 times before I got this. I couldn't figure out the perspective of PITT in the air, Spartan on the ground and energy blast between then.
I take a step back and decide this is the best I can do right now. I am moving the camera from long to short distance. I am moving the horizon line up and down. I am including background.
So I decide to stick with this layout and now clean it up. I twisted Spartan in the last panel because the original pose was a little too lame. However it kind of threw off my alignment of characters. I could have slid PITT up a little but then I would have lost some of his hand. I could have broken the panel border but that would have made the reader skip panel 4.
Now I do a quick "ink". This is really loose for a finished page. I did it more for practice of composition then taking it too completion. I figure if I can fire off a lot of these quick layouts then I can get better quicken then if I did a page all the way to completion. Really after the layout it is just polishing. So hopefully you're polishing a diamond and not a turd.
All of these are digital. If I was doing this page for real. I would have printed out the blue lines above on 11x17 bristol and then pencilled it for real. And then inked it.
I know it is a lot of steps. but I am still unsure of my skills, so I take a lot of steps. Maybe in a few years I will be able to shorten the process.
I try to put some thicker border about the characters and foreground elements. thin lines on the background. Just trying to create some depth with line weight and quality.
Not only that, but I go a little into the process from different thumbnails up to a semi completed page.
This is my first attempt at a layout. I don't have a script, I am just spit balling right now. I know I want a city, PITT and Spartan. I always loved PITT. He was just so brutal and made no apologize for not being anything more then that. And then Spartan (or is it Cyclops?) I just really dug his design. I didn't understand his leg fins but I didn't care.
So that first panel is supposed to be a city...hey I am just thumbnailing, leave me alone. Then Spartan faces off with a foot. Then close up of Spartan. Then PITT being stoic. Then fight. Then PITT chokes out Spartan.
I thought it was a little tight and the panels didn't really breath. There was no WOW moment either. All the panels are about the same size too.
Starts with the city. Then PITT crouching in foreground, Spartan in background. CU of Spartan and then aggressive PITT. Then attack.
Not much different then the first one. I thought the panels had more room and panel 4 was more exciting. But PITT was way too small in the last panel. LAME. I do like panel 4's PITT pose but it wasn't meant to be.
This one didn't change much, I tried to make PITT bigger in the last panel. But it still was too small for me.
So we go back to the cityscape. panel 2 I decide to show full bodies on both characters plus some buildings. Then we do a close up on PITT, notice he is on the other side. The Spartan charges up. Then ATTACK.
PITT is pretty large in this last panel, which I like. I prolly tried to draw the last panel 20 times before I got this. I couldn't figure out the perspective of PITT in the air, Spartan on the ground and energy blast between then.
So I decide to stick with this layout and now clean it up. I twisted Spartan in the last panel because the original pose was a little too lame. However it kind of threw off my alignment of characters. I could have slid PITT up a little but then I would have lost some of his hand. I could have broken the panel border but that would have made the reader skip panel 4.
All of these are digital. If I was doing this page for real. I would have printed out the blue lines above on 11x17 bristol and then pencilled it for real. And then inked it.
I know it is a lot of steps. but I am still unsure of my skills, so I take a lot of steps. Maybe in a few years I will be able to shorten the process.
I try to put some thicker border about the characters and foreground elements. thin lines on the background. Just trying to create some depth with line weight and quality.
Thursday, October 27, 2011
MTV's Liquid Television
Get More: MTV Shows
Just found out that they have all the old Liquid TV animations online now. My brain just exploded.
Wednesday, October 19, 2011
Wednesday, October 12, 2011
Tuesday, October 11, 2011
Thursday, October 6, 2011
Sunday, October 2, 2011
Saturday, October 1, 2011
Monktober Challenge!
I gots my mind on my monkey and my monkey on my mind....
Hey ho! It's me, the erstwhile Sam Little - Little seen, little heard. Oh, the neglect I heap upon the internetz and especially strange furnishing-monikered corners of the blog-O-sphere! Truly I am a bad man.
But here I am, back again and big as life, throwing down the monkeypaw with a challenge for all who dare to venture unto this oddest of kredenzas in the month of October.
And the challenge is thus:
Draw a dang monkey. A simian. An ape. A GO-rilly. Make me some primates, kiddies. And I don't mean the old-fashioned way.
Whaddaya want from me? I like the monkeys is all.
Pencils up....
GO!
Friday, September 30, 2011
Wednesday, September 28, 2011
Tuesday, September 27, 2011
Sunday, September 25, 2011
Wednesday, September 21, 2011
Devil of Greed
I was thinking about what sort of devil to draw for September, and I came back to an image that came to me in a dream I had some years ago. It was one of those rare dreams I get where everything is classical 2D animation, very colorful and well-rendered. I dreamed about this sophisticated foppish devil who dressed like a dandy and carried a cane. He was a very rotund fellow with an evil grin, like he knew all your weaknesses, and was ready to use them to trap you in a bargain for your soul. This here's the pencil drawing I did of him, and hopefully I'll be able to color it before the month is out...
Warmups
Been doing some daily (more of less) warmups to help get the kinks out. Combining this with some really quick Google Image life drawing sessions have really helped. Anyways, here are some of what I've been doing.
Sunday, September 18, 2011
Tomorrow Never Happens, part 1
Dearest Sirs,
If you're not prepared, become prepared. I recommend a can of motor oil mixed with Arbor Mist (Watermelon Flavor) with a twist of lime. The pretty young women of Bryn Mawr College call this a "Social Lubricant" and they guzzle it with gusto heretofore unseen outside of high-level political circles. So grab your Social Lubricant and find a large leather armchair into which to sink. And sink you shall, as I reveal what I've learned. The time-line confuses even myself, but do not be alarmed. All events recorded here happened when they happened, not when the rest of the world observes them to have happened.
I stepped outside on a brisk and sunny Labor Day morning to air out my crotch. The breeze was frisky that morning, playing its fingers around my delicate parts. I waved at the gardeners tending to the potted plants at the restaurant next door, and they waved back. A dog, small, I think, barked somewhere to the south, and I instinctively turned. The distraction worked, because by the time I turned back around, there were six children in World Wrestling Federation costume, waving crowbars, all less than a yard away. I crumpled to a fetal position. They surrounded me. One, or maybe more, worked me into a burlap sack, and I felt them heft me into a wagon. The bumps in the sidewalk made my skull crack against the floor of the wagon once every yard. I used the bumps to estimate how far the wheeled me. I counted 3,592 bumps. That's nearly two miles, for those of you with a calculator.
They helped me up and cut a hole in the burlap for me to poke my head out. The desert surrounded me. The vast, sweeping horizon was punctuated only by distant dunes, and the six stumpy bodies arrayed in front of me. One unzipped his fly. Out curled a deformed, shrunken man. As he raised a tiny microphone to his mouth, I recognized him immediately as television personality and sweepstakes mastermind Ed McMahon.
"Ahhh!" He moaned as he inhaled deeply, stretching his arms outward like a young Elvis testing out a new nudie suit. "You are the man, the man of the hour! Yes!" He pumped his fists as he said yes. "Yes! Yes!" Then he nodded and the other five children walked away into the desert. I trembled before this man-penis. "You have a duty to your country, you must prevent yesterday. The envelope taped to your chest explains it all. Yes!"
At that, he curled back into the short pants of the child, who zipped up and said something under his breath into a walkie talkie, then walked away after the other children.
The sun was setting, and I sat still.
When the whir of a prop plane came closer, I searched the sky, but against the deep twilight I saw nothing. The whir finally grew to a deafening crescendo, then cut out to a sputter and stopped entirely.
"You there! Come over, and drink!"
I struggled out of the sack and walked, taking care to step carefully on the shifting sands beneath my feet. Ahead of me I saw a match strike and flare up, briefly lighting the burly faces of two men. They looked to be lobster fishermen who have lost their boat.
"Ah, and there's the man of the hour. My name is Ernst, but you can call me Papa, and this here is Julian. We've stopped for a smoke. Care for a Backwoods? They're maduro." He rolled his Rs with affectation and held out a torn open packet that reeked of tobacco and palm sweat. I accepted his offer, and the one he called Juilan struck another match. As I puffed, I looked over the cigar end at the men in front of me. Papa was stocky, thickly bearded and wearing hip waders and a filthy red t-shirt. Julian was taller, in brown trousers, an equally filthy orange t-shirt and rumpled top hat. When my cigar was lit, Julian used the remainder of the match to light a lantern and I could see the aeroplane behind them. Pocked with rust, and decorated with the legend "Miss A Sippy" and a crude painting of a catfish-mermaid, amply bosom-ed, it stood tall over both men and me.
"Ernst, he's cold. You're cold, aren't you lad? And I'm sure he's got the hunger. Deep hunger. For a huge cookie perhaps, or some jerky. In either case, we've got work to do." He puffed impatiently on his own cigar as I nodded and sucked deeply.
"Right-o, my brother." Ernst tossed his still burning stub deep into the night and stepped into the plane. "All aboard!"
We flew into the dawn light, as I gobbled jerky, Corn Nuts and washed it down with Pepe Juice. Nervously, I peeled the letter off my chest, the tape yanking small hairs out by their roots. I unfolded it on the floor in front of me and read while Julian and Ernst sat up front, flying and farting and inventing lewd limericks. What follows is a verbatim translation of the original Semitic language mixed with Spanglish that the letter was written in (how I translated ancient Semitic will be discussed later).
"To whom it may concern. You are the keymaster. Seventeen years ago today there was an incident, the details of which are unimportant, save that it created the voidbeast known to those of us in our sect as AL HOG. We've been monitoring the activities of the AL HOG from afar, and have determined that yesterday, it became sentient. You must stop this from happening. How you do it is not important, but it is important that you do it. Please confirm your success by logging onto The Internet using this free 30-day trial of AOL (my fingers followed the edges of the 3.5" disk attached to the letter by a wad of Bubble-Eez Bubble Gum). You can find us in the Sports and Hobbies portal, or contact us in the General Lobby Chat Room #69."
There was no signature, a fact that haunted my dreams as the plane bobbed through the air towards a destination I did not know.
MORE ACTION, MORE ADVENTURE! COMING NEXT IN THE UPCOMING ISSUE OF "TOMORROW NEVER HAPPENS"!
If you're not prepared, become prepared. I recommend a can of motor oil mixed with Arbor Mist (Watermelon Flavor) with a twist of lime. The pretty young women of Bryn Mawr College call this a "Social Lubricant" and they guzzle it with gusto heretofore unseen outside of high-level political circles. So grab your Social Lubricant and find a large leather armchair into which to sink. And sink you shall, as I reveal what I've learned. The time-line confuses even myself, but do not be alarmed. All events recorded here happened when they happened, not when the rest of the world observes them to have happened.
I stepped outside on a brisk and sunny Labor Day morning to air out my crotch. The breeze was frisky that morning, playing its fingers around my delicate parts. I waved at the gardeners tending to the potted plants at the restaurant next door, and they waved back. A dog, small, I think, barked somewhere to the south, and I instinctively turned. The distraction worked, because by the time I turned back around, there were six children in World Wrestling Federation costume, waving crowbars, all less than a yard away. I crumpled to a fetal position. They surrounded me. One, or maybe more, worked me into a burlap sack, and I felt them heft me into a wagon. The bumps in the sidewalk made my skull crack against the floor of the wagon once every yard. I used the bumps to estimate how far the wheeled me. I counted 3,592 bumps. That's nearly two miles, for those of you with a calculator.
They helped me up and cut a hole in the burlap for me to poke my head out. The desert surrounded me. The vast, sweeping horizon was punctuated only by distant dunes, and the six stumpy bodies arrayed in front of me. One unzipped his fly. Out curled a deformed, shrunken man. As he raised a tiny microphone to his mouth, I recognized him immediately as television personality and sweepstakes mastermind Ed McMahon.
"Ahhh!" He moaned as he inhaled deeply, stretching his arms outward like a young Elvis testing out a new nudie suit. "You are the man, the man of the hour! Yes!" He pumped his fists as he said yes. "Yes! Yes!" Then he nodded and the other five children walked away into the desert. I trembled before this man-penis. "You have a duty to your country, you must prevent yesterday. The envelope taped to your chest explains it all. Yes!"
At that, he curled back into the short pants of the child, who zipped up and said something under his breath into a walkie talkie, then walked away after the other children.
The sun was setting, and I sat still.
When the whir of a prop plane came closer, I searched the sky, but against the deep twilight I saw nothing. The whir finally grew to a deafening crescendo, then cut out to a sputter and stopped entirely.
"You there! Come over, and drink!"
I struggled out of the sack and walked, taking care to step carefully on the shifting sands beneath my feet. Ahead of me I saw a match strike and flare up, briefly lighting the burly faces of two men. They looked to be lobster fishermen who have lost their boat.
"Ah, and there's the man of the hour. My name is Ernst, but you can call me Papa, and this here is Julian. We've stopped for a smoke. Care for a Backwoods? They're maduro." He rolled his Rs with affectation and held out a torn open packet that reeked of tobacco and palm sweat. I accepted his offer, and the one he called Juilan struck another match. As I puffed, I looked over the cigar end at the men in front of me. Papa was stocky, thickly bearded and wearing hip waders and a filthy red t-shirt. Julian was taller, in brown trousers, an equally filthy orange t-shirt and rumpled top hat. When my cigar was lit, Julian used the remainder of the match to light a lantern and I could see the aeroplane behind them. Pocked with rust, and decorated with the legend "Miss A Sippy" and a crude painting of a catfish-mermaid, amply bosom-ed, it stood tall over both men and me.
"Ernst, he's cold. You're cold, aren't you lad? And I'm sure he's got the hunger. Deep hunger. For a huge cookie perhaps, or some jerky. In either case, we've got work to do." He puffed impatiently on his own cigar as I nodded and sucked deeply.
"Right-o, my brother." Ernst tossed his still burning stub deep into the night and stepped into the plane. "All aboard!"
We flew into the dawn light, as I gobbled jerky, Corn Nuts and washed it down with Pepe Juice. Nervously, I peeled the letter off my chest, the tape yanking small hairs out by their roots. I unfolded it on the floor in front of me and read while Julian and Ernst sat up front, flying and farting and inventing lewd limericks. What follows is a verbatim translation of the original Semitic language mixed with Spanglish that the letter was written in (how I translated ancient Semitic will be discussed later).
"To whom it may concern. You are the keymaster. Seventeen years ago today there was an incident, the details of which are unimportant, save that it created the voidbeast known to those of us in our sect as AL HOG. We've been monitoring the activities of the AL HOG from afar, and have determined that yesterday, it became sentient. You must stop this from happening. How you do it is not important, but it is important that you do it. Please confirm your success by logging onto The Internet using this free 30-day trial of AOL (my fingers followed the edges of the 3.5" disk attached to the letter by a wad of Bubble-Eez Bubble Gum). You can find us in the Sports and Hobbies portal, or contact us in the General Lobby Chat Room #69."
There was no signature, a fact that haunted my dreams as the plane bobbed through the air towards a destination I did not know.
MORE ACTION, MORE ADVENTURE! COMING NEXT IN THE UPCOMING ISSUE OF "TOMORROW NEVER HAPPENS"!
Saturday, September 17, 2011
Wednesday, September 14, 2011
Monday, September 12, 2011
Friday, September 9, 2011
Sunday, September 4, 2011
Friday, September 2, 2011
Thursday, September 1, 2011
September Challenge - Devils
Hey there, Dylan here reminding you that September has arrived, time for a new Odd Kredenza Challenge! It's a great chance to flex your artistic muscles and show off your chops. Gabe asked me to come up with this month's challenge, and I tried to think of something that would have a lot of room for interpretation and also be fun to draw. The theme I came up with is 'Devils'. It's a theme that people should all be familiar with, and it's also a fun word to say, or sing.
So you have a month to do something infernal and post it here on Odd Kredenzas. Let's see some Devils!
So you have a month to do something infernal and post it here on Odd Kredenzas. Let's see some Devils!
Sunday, August 28, 2011
Tuesday, August 23, 2011
Saturday, August 6, 2011
Thursday, August 4, 2011
Monday, August 1, 2011
August Challenge
So I am back from SDCC and having my eye holes bombarded by superheroes, tights, bulging biceps, and busty babes. As a guy who can barely find time to work out for 10 minutes a week, I wonder how Superman stays in prime, crime fighting and GQ cover condition.
So the challenge this month is Superheroes who've let themselves go. Maybe too many donuts, addicted to crack to make it through the night, Beers for breakfast to forget the horrors?
So the challenge this month is Superheroes who've let themselves go. Maybe too many donuts, addicted to crack to make it through the night, Beers for breakfast to forget the horrors?
Wednesday, July 27, 2011
Monday, July 25, 2011
Thursday, July 21, 2011
Finito!
We're putting the final touches on the last 2 issues and then the book is complete. The first three issues are up and ready to download on:
Graphicly
Drive Thru Comics
The Fabler
My Digital Comics
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