Wednesday, March 30, 2005

30 Minute Comics Vol.2 Issue 20

Big(foot's) Day Out

You think its easy? Being sasquatch? Big foot? The abominable snowman? Well you're wrong buddy. It ain't easy. It's the pits. Between the government actions that destroy my forest home, to those crazies who are always trying to take their picture with me, life can get pretty exhausting. I mean, come on, you get caught taking a crap in the woods once, and suddenly you're a friggin tabloid super star. These lunatics are always approaching me, trying to draw up contracts so that they are the only ones allowed to photograph me. Those guys from the Sun, Weekly World News, and the Enquirer can all kiss my hairy ass.

I know what you're thinking. What's the big deal? Let 'em take your picture! But it's a little more complicated then that. See if more and more people get proof that I exist, then ambitious scientists and sleazy government agents are gonna start hanging around my backyard. They're gonna want to strap a tracking device on me, and the government will probably try and make me move to a zoo, or worse… I just can't have that happen.

I've been planning this vacation now for a very long time. There's this little hideaway resort in Alaska that I like to go to whenever I can get away. I'm buddies with the owner and he gives me a pretty good deal on a room. It is very exclusive, and its great for people who want to keep a low profile like myself. My old friend Nessie hangs out beachfront, and my other pal the Jersey Devil usually stays in the room next to mine. The weather's just perfect come June, it gets up to 70 some days which is perfect for me, cause I'm stuck with this fur coat whether I like it or not. I'm gonna sit here a little while longer, enjoy my drink, and look out on the water. Later, I may head over to Elvis' bungalo. That dude knows how to throw a party.

Road Trip??

Come check out The Tank and our new line up. Jeremy Jessen (formerly of Align) is now playing guitar, and Ross has moved back to drums.

The first 5 people to ask Ken if, "he's been working out", get a free shirt.

March 31st 2005 at Old Ironsides
1901 Tenth St. Sacramento, CA
(916)442-8832 21+

April 2nd 2005 at Knuckleheads
405 Vine St. Reno, NV
with The Thoughts Killing Me and Pascal

-The Tank

Bark Park Fundraiser Tonight

Don't forget.

Souplantation tonight at 7:30 pm.

Be sure to get a flyer from me or Andy so the park will get their money.

Wednesday March 30th
7:30 Pm
1555 Adams Ave, Costa Mesa

Be there or Parker will gnaw your face off!!!
Ahh, who am I kidding. At the worst, he might try to lick you to death.

30 Minute Comics Vol. 2 Issue 19

Buddah's Goldfish

“Is very good. Will make you breathe better. Will make cough go away.”

That’s what the large Chinese man who looked like a Sumo Wrestler said to me. His large meaty hands lay firmly on the glass counter next to the bag of medicinal herbs.
The incense that was burning in the shop was only making my cough worse, and I wanted to get out of there as soon as I could.

“Sure, sure. I’ll take it.” I had said, staring at the enormous aquarium that took up almost the entire back wall of the store. It was quite impressive for a shabby herbal shop in Chinatown; the tank was inlaid in the wall, and had enormous goldfish swimming in it. There was something amazingly captivating yet disturbing about these fish. They were huge in size and vibrantly colored in bright orange hues. But their eyes spoke to me in a way I did not want them to.

I walked home thinking about how nice a hot bath would feel. I would make myself a hot tea with the herbs, and have a relaxing soak in the tub.

The tea didn’t smell very good, but I drank it anyway in precise sips, as I felt the tension in my muscles seep out into the water surrounding me. I finished the tea, and let myself slide all the way to the bottom of the tub so that I was completely submerged in water. Miraculously my chest felt looser already, and as I held my breath under water, I had no urge to cough. I opened my eyes under the water and was startled to see someone there. I recognized the face….it was the face of the man at the herbal store. Its funny, but it did not bother me to see him standing above me. My breathing slowed, and I felt the tub grow in size around me. I suddenly felt at peace. The man grabbed me with just one hand and I was thrown into a pail of fresh water.

My eyes can speak now too.

Sunday, March 27, 2005

30 Minute Comics Vol. 2 Issue 18


My big brother Frank used to have the coolest Afro. He looked just like one of the Harlem Globetrotters. Frank used to run the corner store a couple blocks away from our house. When summertime came around, I couldn't run to the store fast enough. I'd skid through the doorway and head straight to the back of the store where the fridges were. I would pick out my favorite soda first. Then I'd walk over to the chip aisle and pick out my greasy salt and vinegar potato chips. But I would always save the best for last; the candy. Sometimes I'd get sour belts, and licorice, other days gummi bears and chocolate covered raisins. It all depended on my mood. But Frank was always there. He'd sit behind the counter and grin his big friendly grin. Then he'd take out his pick and make sure not a hair was out of place. People would come into the store sometimes and say "Frank, how can you deal with hair like that in heat like this?!" He would smile, and say "I don't mind." One old lady would always walk in and say "Boy, you look like you gotta football helmet on your head! Isn't all that hair heavy?" Frank just said, "Feels just fine to me."

Frank was always polite with the customers. He was even polite to the robber who came in to rob the convenience store. It wasn't until the guy pulled out the gun, that Frank really realized he might be in trouble. My mother still talks about how it was a miracle that Frank wasn't killed that day. The robber pistol whipped him, and then proceeded to empty the register. Frank got away with just a concussion and a few stitches. The doctors said Frank's injuries were fairly minor and that he would make a full recovery, but they were wrong. See, when the doctors stitched up his head they had to shave off all his hair. A little piece of Frank died that day. He's never been the same since then. We all told Frank he should grow his hair back, but he never has. He's never smiled quite the same way either.

Friday, March 25, 2005

Good Cheese Friday

No post, just a reminder.
Eat your cheese.

Thursday, March 24, 2005

30 Minute Comics Vol.2 Issue 17


They lay me down on the warm marble. I could still make out some traces of light through the white bandages wrapped around my eyes. The chanting of the priests was rhythmic and had put me into a medative state. I could smell the pungent odor of the bubbling fluid in the pot up above me. My servents were murmuring to each other as they arranged my body. To them I was nothing but a corpse now. Among the throngs present I heard one of the young women crying to her sister about my death. Her sister was silent. She had much reason to be, as she was the one who had poisoned me. A poison so sadistic in its nature, that I would be alive, while all others percieved me to be dead. A poison which would slow my breathing and my heart so much that our best medicinary priests could no longer detect them. She did this so that I could lie here and witness my own funeral ceremony, feel my own death, as no other had ever felt it. When the hot liquid hit the bandages I could not scream or attempt to protect my self in any way. I could only lay there and watch the last of the light be shut out as they placed the cover on my sarcophagus. She had made sure that they etched my semblance upon this cover, so that my eyes were forever open, forever watching the dark halls of my own tomb.

Don't Drink & Blog

An excerpt from the new After School Special: Jenny Portrait of a Teenage Blogger

The Scene:
A late night AOL Instant Messagenger conversation.

Jenny: hello
Jenny: hola

Robert: Hey

Jenny: siyonara
Jenny: tequila is good
Jenny: sometimes even on a school night
Jenny: heh heh ehe heheheheeh

Robert: Uhoh

Jenny: how come you never posted the gargoyle story?
Jenny: :-X
Jenny: waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah

Robert: I forgot at work. And then never got on a computer at home

Jenny: r u at home now?

Robert: Yes

Jenny: might you post then?

Not tonight
Robert: I will do it tomorrow morning

Jenny: :(
Jenny: :(
Jenny: fine i'll post it
Jenny: beware of drunken blog posts!!

Robert: It can wait til tomorrow

Jenny: Noooooooooooooooooooooooooo-


Jenny: lol
Jenny: lmao

Robert: Post it then

Jenny: whooohoo
Jenny: what do you think it should be called



Robert: I'm thinking

that is the title?
Jenny: "Im thinkiing
Jenny: heheheeheheh
Jenny: whooohooo
Jenny: any new ideas on title?

Can't think of anything witty
Robert: Too tired

Jenny: i put for now more than meets the eye
Jenny: youcan change it 2morrow if you like
Jenny: righttnow its liike the temp title
Jenny: am wirtign nonesen
Jenny: must go to slep

Robert: Ok

Jenny: sleep well

Robert: Night

Wednesday, March 23, 2005

30 Minute Comics Vol. 2 Issue 16

The Wolves Come Out At Night

I get an excellent view of the city atop my penthouse perch. I can make out the throngs as they rush about their daily lives. The cars zoom or crawl past the bottom of my building, depending on the time of day. I'm luckier than a lot of my brethren, some of whom face an alleyway, or the polluted Hudson River. But my favorite thing to watch is the wolves. Have you heard about the wolves?

They say they live somewhere in the sewers. They say they come out of an opening in the ground, a tunnel of sorts, somewhere in central park. That's how they sneak up to the city streets long after dusk has fallen. What they say is true. I have seen the wolves with my own eyes. The leader of the pack appears when the moon is at its apex. He sneaks out first to check if its safe for the others. He sniffs around, then raises his head to the moon and howls. The others then rush to join him. They gather for a moment, as if deciding where to run tonight. Then they take off. A pack of wolves running down Central Park West. It is a sight to be seen indeed.

Help The Puppies...

How can you help?
By eating food. It's something you do anyway.

Testimonial from last years fund raiser:

"Andy and I had some much fun at last years fundraiser, we never left!!!"
~Toby Wallwork Santa Ana, CA

"I've succumbed to the bliss of Wonton Chicken Happiness"
~Andy Cauble Costa Mesa, CA

Wednesday, March 30th
Approx. 7:30pm

1555 Adams Ave, Costa Mesa

Because you love the puppies.

15% of your purchase will be donated to the Costa Mesa Bark Park when you bring in a flyer.
Flyers can be obtained from me. (Jason)


Saturday, March 19, 2005

30 Minute Comics Vol. 2 Issue 15

Percy The Reluctant Robot

"Alright pally, you ready for your first day of school?"

Percy could feel his knees clanking together, and his stomach felt funny, he could feel the frosted bolt cereal he had eaten for breakfast spinning around like clothes in a dryer.

"I feel kinda funny Dad, do I have to go in? I might be sick." Percy widened his eyes as if to convey an illness that was encroaching from his feet up to his antenna.

"You'll be fine. Don't worry about a thing." Percy's father smiled warmly, and patted him on the head. His father's heavy metal fingers felt comforting as they patted his own steel cranium.

"What am I going to learn in there anyways? Its nothing you and mom can't just teach me at home right?"

"Now Percy Babbage don't you get stubborn with me, young man." Percy cringed as his father's face grew stern and stiff with determination. This was the face that always let Percy know he was pushing too far.

"Alright Dad. I'm sorry. "

"You'll be fine son, you've got a lot to learn about. Remember the future of our world is in your hands. You must carry on the legacy of machine."

"You don't think there'll be any humans in the class do you?"

"Maybe one or two. But don't worry times have changed. They're the odd ones now."

Percy picked up his metal lunch pail which had his sheet metal sandwhich and a thermos of oil and gave a weak smile to his father. He turned around and walked through the front doors of his future.

Friday, March 18, 2005

Cheese Friday: Cheese Watch

Tillamook Cheddar

Tillamook Cheddar is a "Made in America" cheese that is made from cow's milk. The cheese is made using milk that has been heat-treated rather than pasteurized, a process that allows some of the bacteria essential for producing top quality Cheddar to be retained. According to its texture, it ranks among hard cheeses and is also suitable for vegetarians. Tillamook Cheddar is either white or annatto-coloured and is sold in blocks. It is a table cheese but could be used for grating, grilling or baking.

Tillamook is one of my favorite Cheeses, and it's available in most grocery stores. I usually buy the Medium Cheddar because my wife isn't the biggest fan of Sharp Cheese (can you believe it?). But I can wholeheartedly recommend any of their offerings. Tillamook is both a type of Cheese and and brand name. It is made in the State of Oregon by the Tillamook County Creamery Association. The TCCA is a farmer owned cooperative. They were established in 1909, but this Cheese recipe has been used in Tillamook County for over a hundred years. Even though it is classified as a hard Cheese, I use it sliced on hamburgers or sandwiches, and shredded in tacos or on eggs. To get the full flavor I recommend eating it sliced without any accompaniment. You can really use it anyway you normally use Cheese. I would call it a multi-purpose Cheese. I'm eating some right now and I have to say it's the perfect way to start any Cheese Friday.

Wednesday, March 16, 2005

30 Minute Comics Vol. 2 Issue 14

Highway to Hell

Tracy made eye contact with him in his rear view mirror and her heart skipped a beat. Tracy had never done anything like this before. The cold steel of the Beretta penetrated her jeans causing her to shiver involuntarily.

Whenever Tracy drove at night, she would constantly glance in her back seat. Paranoid, she'd check her mirrors to make sure no one had magically appeared in her speeding car to stab her to death. Her sister, Lucinda, was always the worst with that stuff. She would paint the picture of gruesome scenes that she saw when they were driving together and passed a car. But now Lucinda was dead and Tracy was tracking her killer.

His car stopped.

She put the car in park, and held the gun in between her sweaty hands. Could she do this? Kill a man? Avenging her sisters brutal rape and murder? He had gotten off scott free. Not a month of prison. How the jury found him not guilty she'd never know. But now it was time for her to do what she came here to do. Tracy got out of her jeep and aimed the gun…

Tuesday, March 15, 2005

30 Minute Comics Vol. 2 Issue 13

Don't Tread On Me

We're not sure how long it will take us to get back to planet Voltar. Days, even weeks perhaps. We are a patient people, one well accustomed to waiting. We will be able to rest easier knowing that our job in the fourth quadrant has been completed. The work there was quite exhausting. It seemed the more of the antigen we released the more of them appeared. They swarmed above ground, on their planet, in their little transportation pods.

The "Fifth Quadrant" as we had named it, was really just comprised of one planet, one moon, and some transient stations in between. We are not a people easily disturbed , but even for us, looking upon such hideous creatures for such a long time was difficult.

We retire to the saloon and amuse each other with different stories. One of the younger lieutenants told us a far fetched yarn about how we had distant relatives in quadrant five at one point in history. He described them as being a tiny fraction of our size, and he said they lived on a planet "Earth". We had never heard of such a thing. All that matters now, is that we have all quadrants under our control. All one hundred and sixty of them.

Monday, March 14, 2005

30 Minute Comics Vol. 2 Issue 12

El Oso

I am a bear. I live in a tree.

Sometimes when I'm trying to go to sleep at night, I remember when I used to be a little. Mother and I used to go to the river to fish. The rushing water was icy waves hitting my face. I remember the way the slippery fish could wriggle right past my teeth. Mother would stand upstream of me and use her paws to guide more fish in my direction. She would always compliment me on my fishing. Even though
I knew I wasn't that good, it was still nice to hear.

I remember the way we would lay still and quiet when the winter started to come. Somehow mother could smell when the first snow would fall and we would go inside our cave just before the first snow flake hit the ground. The snow made everything so quiet and still. All I could hear were Mother and I breathing in the musty air of the cave.

I still remember the day when we were feeding by the river. I heard a loud crack in the air, and I thought it was lightning and thunder. But I was confused because it didn't look like it was going to rain. I didn't get really scared until I looked at Mother's face, and saw her eyes widen in fear. She told me to run to the cave, as fast as I could, and not look back or come out until she came to get me. She
told me she would be right behind me. I went into the cave, and lay there panting looking at the red and orange leaves laying on the ground, fresh off the tree branches. I lay in the cave all day and all night but she never came back. I stayed in the cave until winter came, afraid that if I left Mother would come back and not find me there. Winter came, the snow fell, but still no Mother.

When spring came I awoke and left the cave to get some food. Fishing in the river wasn't the same without Mother there to help and tell me how good I was. That night I couldn't make myself go back to the cave, it was too lonely. So I climbed up a tree and slept with the sounds of the owls and the crickets. That is where I spend most nights nowadays.

I am a bear. I live in a tree.

Sunday, March 13, 2005

30 Minute Comics Vol. 2 Issue 11

Old Blu...Green Eyes

My new eye transplant was not going as well as I had hoped. I do not believe that Victor’s heart is in it anymore. There was a time when he would become exhilarated by the prospect of my invention. He would adjust my body parts, making sure I was proportional, speak to me late into the night, and strove to administer improvements upon my crude form. Now Victor is despondent, and shuffles through the lab with the weight of the world on his shoulders. I had asked him to see if he could find a green eye, to better match my other one and my skin tone, but he insisted all he could find was a sample with a black cornea. He then admitted he had only checked one graveyard, and was going to go out scouting to other cemeteries this week to finish finding parts for my bride. Victor said he would keep an eye out for a more appropriate replacement.

I have to confess, I can barely contain my excitement for the day when Victor finishes my wife. At last I will have someone who is as myself, who I will be able to share this life with. When I think back to all those awful nights I spent alone in the woods, I can feel a lump form in my throat. My beautiful family, the only friends I thought I had in the world, even they did not understand me, and so I had no choice but to enact my revenge upon them. Just as I will enact my revenge upon Victor if he is not able to comply with my wishes. I do not want to resort to more violence, but I will if I have to. I can not go much longer with this loneliness in my heart. It is slowly killing the humanity within me, and in turn driving me to kill as well.

Saturday, March 12, 2005

What the Hell happened to Cheese Friday?!

I was very disappointed to check on the ol Smart Patrol to find no cheese friday posting. What happened? Did the cheese become too moldy and vanish? My week just doesn't seem complete without the cheese...I need my Cheese!!

30 Minute Comics Vol. 2 Issue 10

Expect the Unexpected

Do you ever think to yourself, how did I end up in this situation? How is it that I came to be in an empty warehouse hiding among garbage with an angry rabid dog chasing me?

There had been nothing unusually horrendous about the earlier part of my day to tip me off to what I had coming. In the morning, my alarm had gone off, I had awoken begrudgingly, and as usual it took only a few seconds of consciousness to remember how crappy my life was. I went to work, ate a bad sandwich at my desk, and pretended to be interested in what my co-workers were saying. Finally it was time for me to go home, I got in my car, got about five minutes away from home, and then wouldn’t you know it – I ran out of gas. Perfect timing. So out comes the old five gallon from the trunk, and as I’m bracing myself to walk the 20 blocks to the gas station, I see him. He looks kinda like a chocolate lab, only his coat is shaggier than it should be. I give the pooch a half smile and start walking. The dog starts following me. I walk faster. The dog walks faster. I could see where this was going and in a moment which I can only credit to childlike panic I break out into a sprint. That in retrospect was a mistake. Huge mistake. The dog starts running too, but after five seconds of pulling a Flo Jo I get a stitch in my side. I’m freaking out. I push past an open gate surrounding an empty warehouse. I guess the idea was that there would be walls and doors that I could put in between me and that dog. No such luck. All the doorways in this place were gaping and empty. Not a single door in the place. I loose all rational sense and get into the fetal position in a corner of a room. I can hear his nails clacking on the floor. Oh God he was coming. He stuck his head around the corner, and it is then I see that he has my car keys in his mouth. He drops them on the floor, barks, and runs off. Maybe it wasn’t such a bad day after all.

Thursday, March 10, 2005

30 Minute Comics Vol. 2 Issue 9

Ray, when someone asks if you're a God, you say YES!

It was during my weekly staff meeting, and as usual, I found myself staring out of the vast windows and out onto the sprawl of majestic sky scrapers and noble architecture. I never grew tired of admiring the gradual tapering of the Vincenzo building turrets, or the way that the top of the Brennen towers seemed to graze the bottom of clouds. I could barely make out the shape that emerged darkly from 25th Ave. It looked like one of those giant balloons that would float in between the buildings during city parades, with the grace of the gondolas in Venice. As I looked closer, I saw that it was a giant hand, but not quite a human hand…it was more like a paw. A paw with a behemoth analog clock embedded inside it. I made a gasping sound, and turned to my colleagues to see if they saw what I saw, but everyone else seemed engrossed in their work. I rose from my chair silently, and walked closer to the massive panes of glass that separated me from reality. As this paw became fully exposed, I saw that it was attached to a giant arm comprised of metal sectionals, and attached this was a torso, a head, legs. It was like an enormous hybrid of Teddy Ruxbin and Robby the Robot. At that moment, I was unsure as to whether or not I should scream or laugh. There was a time when the idea of huge robotic bears taking over our dear city of Metropol would have seemed ridiculous. But today it became a reality.

Wednesday, March 09, 2005

30 Minute Comics Vol. 2 Issue 8

Dead Man's Party

I do love a good party. The best thing about the mausoleum are the glorious high ceilings. They're at a simply divine height for stringing up the chandeliers. There's nothing quite as uplifiting as dragging out the old tuxedo for a social mixer. Gloria does the cleverest invites, I don't know where she finds them. These little bats that fly around to everyone, alerting them of the time and occasion for our little soiree. Why last time we were able to squeeze in almost all the residents of the lot! Gloria makes fantastic h'ordevores, and I make a mean martini if I do say so myself. We host functions several times a year; New Year's Eve, St. Patty's Day, Valentine's Day, and of course on Halloween we hobnob right up until the sun rises. This year my associate was somehow able to garner one of these new fangled "Flat Screen TV's", and we were able to watch the Academy Awards. They don't seem nearly as glamorous as when I used to attend them in the 40's. Well that was over sixty years ago now I suppose, when people had style; when they understood glamour. Now everything's gone to pot. Well, at least we've still got our festivities to liven' things up here every now and again. You should drop by in fact, we're having one next Saturday. Perhaps you're familiar with our gated community? Its called Hollywood Forever. Hope to see you there some day.

Tuesday, March 08, 2005

30 Minute Comics Vol. 2 Issue 7

The Gloves

You'd never put on a glove like this before. In fact you'd never seen anything like these things in your entire life. Not ever. The damn gloves weren't invisible when the man sold them to you at the pawn shop. They had appeared to be exactly the kind of glove you were looking for. A simple pair of fireman’s gloves, flame resistant, with a slit up the middle for easy access, and good sturdy cloth on the inside. You had noticed with disinterest, the thick lining was brightly colored with diagonal pinstripes.

You couldn’t get over how they had transformed your hands. The minute you put those gloves on, your fingers became cemented together. Your hand straightened out like a board, and then just as quickly bent into perfect fists. Iron fists that had saved more people in an hour that you had saved in a month as a fireman. You marveled at how the fists had killed the mugger in the alleyway, stopped a truck from careening onto a busy sidewalk, and steadied a building’s roof ready to collapse. It crossed your mind for moment that you had no idea how you were going to take these suckers off, but quickly became more focused by the fact that punching through brick walls with your hamfistedness caused you no pain. This was the beginning of something alright, of what you were still not certain….

Monday, March 07, 2005

30 Minute Comics Vol. 2 Issue 6

Robot, Broken

Two metal rods, each wide enough from each other to fit our necks. We hung like that above the bunker floor. Put out of commission; retired as it were. There were three of us now. A3K version 1, myself - A3K version 2, and the latest addition to our group: A3K version 3, the final piece in our trinity of defeat. There were no words to exchange among ourselves, no conversations to be had. The sad dull metal glint in our eyes communicated all we had to say. We had been bested, improved upon, and therefore inevitably made obsolete. The mind of Dr. Merric Stone had performed the functions of natural selection upon itself, weeding out the old ideas for the new, replacing the weaker designs with those that were stronger.
I sometimes feared that Dr. Stone would run out of room in his laboratory or grow tired of having his former mistakes hanging there for him to look at all day. In my worst dreams, the cruel fate of crushed metal awaited me in a junkyard . But in retrospect, even that could not be as painful as what had already happened . Being forgotten, being tossed aside for something newer; something better. That was the horrid fate that had already befallen me. Of course watching our replacement, version 4, day in day out, was torture in and of itself. I could notice the added grace that version 4 had in even the slightest of his movements. The way he spoke, the way he walked; Stone had improved upon all of it. Did he think because I was deactivated that I could not see it? That I could not feel it? My soul was wrenched out of my charging sockets like a cheap metal plug, and all because I had failed in my purpose. I had been made to serve and protect, but I was discarded as insufficient. Condemned to an eternity of futility.

Sunday, March 06, 2005

30 Minute Comics Vol. 2 Issue 5

Be Kind, Rewind

CHRIS: “I’m telling you man, they’re like razors. Real Freddy Kruger shit.”

ED: “Freddy Kruger shit, huh?”

CHRIS: “Uhuh.”

ED: “Seems to me like the only shit around here, is the stuff you’re shovelin’ right now.”

CHRIS: “Fine, don’t believe me, see if I care.”

ED: “Dude, what do you expect me to say. You’re trying to convince me that there’s a zombie in the basement of the video store where we work. A zombie which you’ve seen, and now want us to go kill with nothing more than a flashlight and some silly string?”

CHRIS: “I meant we could throw the cans at him, not spray him with it!”

ED: “I think you’ve been takin’ out too many Romero titles buddy. Gotta ease up on the horror section.”

{Ed gets up from his chair and starts organizing some DVD’s on the counter. Suddenly a muted crashing sound is hear. Like cardboard boxes falling over.}

CHRIS: “Christ! It’s him, it’s the zombie!”

{Chris instinctively ducks below the counter and covers his head with his hands. Ed leans over the counter, peering at Chris and shaking his head.}

ED: “You’ve really turned into one pathetic stoner haven’t you? Get up will ya? It was probably just some rats or something. Besides, two minutes ago you wanted to go down there and attack the thing, now you’re too petrified to move.”

CHRIS: “Yeah well, it just took me off guard that’s all. I thought it was trying to ambush us, ok?”

ED: “Ok, then let’s go. You and me, in the basement. Right now.”

{Chris gives a concerned look to Ed and shruggs his shoulders as his way of accepting the proposal. Ed walks towards the stairwell and turns the doorknob. The door creaks open slowly, as if with apprehension. Ed bends down and picks up the flashlight that lives on the second step down. He takes a deep breath and switches it on.}

CHRIS: Oh My God! Its him!

{The zombie moves slowly but with purpose, its crushed chest cavity oozing green. Ed and Chris stand paralyzed with fear, their feet rooted to the ground as the zombie raises its outstretched arms with those razor nails…..}

Saturday, March 05, 2005

30 Minute Comics Vol. 2 Issue 4

The Slouch

Carl didn't know what he would have done if he had had to listen to
one more minute of that maddening parrot with its infernal squawking.
"Get off of your duff Carl, get off of your duff!" Frederick used to
say to him every single time he tried to relax in his favorite chair
with a cold beer.

"Don't slouch in the seat Carl, don't slouch in the seat!"
Of all the things Carl's mother could have left him in her will, she
had to leave him Frederick. That horrible parrot. Carl remembered
how his mother used to call Frederick her best friend, her real life
time companion. Carl had no idea how long parrots were supposed to
live, but he was certain that Frederick should have died years ago.
Carl had taken it into his home, because it seemed like the decent
thing to do after his mother died. He could see his old mother right
now wringing her hands over what was to become of Frederick when she
would no longer be around to look after him. Of course Carl hadn't
counted on the screeching and the nagging. It was eerie really, like
a piece of his mother still lived in his house with him.
"Carl you're a real slouch. A real slouch."

Day in, day out, Frederick grated on his nerves. He couldn't even
watch his TV in peace anymore or take a nap without Frederick
interrupting. So today, he had taken Frederick into the bathroom.
Carl tried to do it as quickly as possible, but somehow all his
feathers got everywhere. He had wrapped up the body in a bunch of
garbage bags and put it in the trash can outside, but the house reeked
as though Frederick was still inside. That was ok by Carl. Just as
long as he had his silence. His silence and his Television and his
chair. That was all Carl had ever really wanted.

Thursday, March 03, 2005

30 Minute Comics: Vol. 2 Issue 3


“You weren’t expecting this were you kid?” Daimiano said, staring at Joe with his steely grey eyes. The cigarette stub he had stepped on still had a an orange ember or two left on its tip, and smoke twirled up into the air like a pair of ballerina legs. Joe stared at the pretty dancing smoke, wishing himself out of that garage.

“Hey Kid! Answer me!” Daimiano yelled, and shifted his weight, crushing his foot deeper into Joe’s chest. The concrete felt smooth and cool under Joe’s shirt, and he thought about how nice and easy it would be to just give up, and go to sleep here, forever.

“God Damn it Joey! I’m only going to ask you one more time! Where the hell did you put that money?!”
For the first time in about ten minutes, Joe made eye contact with Daimiano AKA The Judge. They called him that because he always carried that crazy walking stick with a judge’s gavel on one end. Joe had been bracing himself for the moment when the wooden mallet would come smashing down on his fingers, or his balls. But so far the Judge hadn’t completely lost his temper, or so he had told Joe. Daimiano met his eyes, and Joe thought he caught a glimmer of sympathy floating around with the silvery flecks of his cornea.

"Come on Joe. We all want to go home here. Don't do this."

Joe knew there was no backing down, and tried to keeps his thoughts on Lucinda and the baby. They would be able to move away and start a new life. Joe felt a pinching sensation in his heart as he admitted to himself they might even be better off without him. It was for them that he was doing this. For them. If he just repeated that in his head over and over again, he wouldn’t feel so scared. Joe clenched his jaw, and braced himself for the worst. Staring back at The Judge, he said,

“I don’t know where the money is.”

Wednesday, March 02, 2005

30 Minute Comics Vol.2 Issue 2

The Chase

The sun beat down on my face making me squint my eyes which were already stinging from the droplets of sweat that had trickled down off my forehead. How long had I been running? Five miles? Seven? It was difficult to tell. My chest wanted to explode, and the waves of nausea were almost unbearable. The only thing that kept me going was the image that had been burned into my mind. None of it made any sense really. First of all, the boogeyman wasn't supposed to exist; and second of all he was only supposed to come out at night. What the hell was he doing chasing me down the street in the broad daylight?

Speaking of which, where was everybody? The only sounds I could hear were the rubber soles of my shoes pounding on the hot pavement, and the faint grunting that persisted behind me. All the stores and buildings appeared to be vacant, and the streets were empty, no cars, no traffic. I wanted to stop, catch my breath, find a drink of water, but I couldn't. I couldn't even turn around and look behind me, because I was terrified that the boogeyman might be right there, just over my shoulder. He would pounce on me, devour me, take me to boogey-land, or whatever it is that the boogeyman does to his victims.

Then all of a sudden, a new sound pierced the quiet air. At first it was a faint and far off, but then it grew louder and more constant.

It was a ringing sound….in fact, it sounded just like my phone…

Tuesday, March 01, 2005

30 Minute Comics Vol. 2 Issue 1

The Clown that Likes to Murder People

Pain. Utter searing gut wrenching pangs. They always started slow. Creeping quietly up from the pit of his stomach, then spreading to his intestines, his kidneys, his bladder. It was like he had been running for hours and had gotten a stitch in his side that spread to his entire lower torso…
And there was only one way to make it stop. He had tried to go back in his mind to remember how he had discovered the singular cure for his agony. This cure was his joy. The way their flesh felt taught and warm under his white gloves, their life seeping through the cloth. Once he strangled them he would tear into their flesh with his knife, which doubled as a juggling prop. Each cut into their skin would bring him relief. Their blood was like a salve that spread out over the irritated lining of his stomach. The relief he felt at these moments, the happiness, was unlike any he could ever remember. When he wasn’t experiencing this, the ache would force him to double over, or lay on the filthy tiles of his bathroom, just as he was at this moment. He had to get up. He had to go out and find his antidote. A new victim; a new found moment of peace.