Greycleaner D: Small Victories

Small Victories
July 9th, 2009
Day off Tuesday: got, maybe, half my to-do list done, including calls to the Shadow Lady and the Man called Dad. Dad was in a tizzy because his landlords respond to a misplaced rent check by threatening eviction in five days. Probably not any more legal down there than it is here. Wish these drones wouldn't scare him with their nonsense.
Wednesday: worked 8-5, am so not a morning person, around 7pm shrugged off the sensation of being squashed into unconsciousness so I could scratch a few more things off Tuesday's to-do list. By the time I got back from the grocery store, I wasn't tired at all and wasted hours surfing wikipedia's entries on tv "horror hosts" from Vampira to Elvira, Count Floyd to Dr. Morgus, Ghoulardi to Marvin, the Near-Sighted Madman (Something indefinably cool about Marvin. Here we have Terry Bennett, a man who maintained he was far happier at his weekday morning gig as a children's show host, spending his Saturday nights in a black sweater and oversized glasses, trying to be as morbid as possible...and succeeding so well there's no entry for the actor or the children's show on wikipedia, you have to follow the citation links for those. Guess we know what kind of people update wikipedia. Drinking poison, showing bad movies, and constantly cutting off pieces of his wife (she regenerates while off-camera.)...and half a century later, fondly remembered. In this, there is some lesson about the allure of horror, the true meaning of Halloween... I've never quite gotten this right, the unity of primal responses: passion, fear, laughter. I want... )

Anyway, Thursday I check in with Dad (the Rent Crisis is averted. The left hand drone just hadn't gotten around to keeping his promise to give the check to the right hand drone who properly deals with it.) Then, I go out into the Outer Circle to find the Auto Parts place. It takes me three turn-arounds and an hour to go less than ten miles, but I finally own a replacement taillight (for the one that was broken in, y'know, winter). (Coming Tuesday, Hopper (my car) gets her big long-overdue fix-up of everything that's falling apart. ) Then I drop off the clothes and sleeping bags at Goodwill, find out they also take books, and ask if they have mens' shoes (not really) or summer-weight shirts. Directed to the corner of the store where Mens' wear is strategically contained, I find no Hawaiian shirts... but something better in the long run: one lightweight shirt with thick white and bluish-black horizontal stripes; one slate-grey pair of belt-less cotton pants; one black waist-length jacket. I'll reclaim the black hair color spray from my giveaway pile, and then I'll just need some pale makeup, maybe some red eyeshadow, and hair gel to make my hair more unmanageable than it already is. *michievous, slightly crazed smile* I'm nearly ready for Halloween. If only I were ready for August. Most of the to-do list done. (most)

Greycleaner E is for explicit yet expurgated episode

Webcomics Nonillustrated: Part 4: A New Bloke
July 11th, 2009
This one's kinda long, so I'm putting it in the comments. It's not sexually explicit, but it's... somewhat explicit. horror-comedy. might count as fanfic, of a tv show I never saw. attempts to find video footage suggest that a local live tv series from the 1950s probably was never recorded to film in the first place, meaning it's impossible for me to have seen it. This is, in any event, a 're-imagining' (like Tim Burton calls his fanfic) It's not Shakespeare, but at least I'm writing something.
Our story picks up a few hours after Part 3, with Steven (a human version of Panda) and Sally (in human form) sitting on opposite sides of Mal (as a huge blob of black energy covered with red eyes ala' 'Hellsing'! ok, no, actually he's also in humanoid form) in Mal's living room...

Comment by me: so, apparently comments have a maximum length. hrm. ok, I guess I'll post it as a new entry, and hope the Adult Content setting will do what my lj-cuts never do.

Greycleaner F (is for Farm, purchased, maybe, in Florida)

Shock Theatre (Caution: Crazy Vampire Humor, may cause disgust)
July 12th, 2009
Mal: "I need someone I can watch bad movies with. I remember, back in the 50s, I spent some time in Chicago, and I knew this guy named Marvin Jobblewocki"---

Sally: "Mal, not another one of your long, crazy, contradicting backstories, ok?"

Mal: "c'mon, Sally, you'll like this one. He was a were-owl. "

Sally: "...a were? natural or infected?"
Mal: "Well, infected. He had a curse that was going around back then and it spread."

"What do you mean, it spread?"

"You know-- worsened, overran its boundaries, got blurry. See, it was a popular curse at the time. It made you a morning person from dawn to dusk, but a Night Owl after the sun went down. Gave you more pep and vigor, and more time in your day. Executives would sometimes hire gypsies to curse their employees so they could work longer hours. Marvin did lots of media work, so I'm not sure which company put the mojo on him, but after a few years, he began to have side effects."

"Ooh, a curse with a downside. I'm so surprised."

"Sure, but, that's where the were-owl part comes in. I guess his wife (her name was Judy, or something like that) must have been a natural were, although they didn't talk about that kind of thing back then. She always claimed her high-speed regenerative abilities came from being a high school cheerleader back in Texas. Apparently, if you can live through that, nothing really hurts afterwards."

" Wait, she couldn't talk about being a were, but she was regenerating right in front of people?"

"No, no, of course not. She'd excuse herself and go to the bathroom...powder her nose, regrow some fingers, adjust her makeup, and come out fresh as a daisy."

"Regrow fingers? When did this happen?"

"I don't know, like, every Saturday night, I guess. He was always cutting off her fingers, or toes, or setting her on fire, or daring her to cure her constipation by drinking drain cleaner. (I don't know for certain, but I think it worked, too. She was in a much better mood when she finally came out of the bathroom that time.)"

"Ok, Mal, several things. 1, ewwww, gross. 2. Why the HELL was he cutting off her FINGERS?? 3. you've done it again, and when and if you finish this story, I will hurt you. 4. What does this have to do with a were-owl curse? and 5. How do you know all this?"

"The curse was *why* he was cutting off her fingers. I think the interaction between the original curse and exposure to his wife's lycanthropy caused the elements of his personality to separate out, like in one of those spinny things doctors use."

Steven: "You mean a centrifuge."

Mal: "Right. So the morning person became so insufferably perky and cheerful and whitebread only children could understand him. He began to wear shirts with his initials on them and compose educational songs. (On the other hand, he used every product exactly as directed, to get optimal results.)
At night, however, the owl persona would take over. He started to enjoy playing with people's minds. He needed big glasses, indirect lighting, and developed a taste for flesh in small, bite-size pieces. He'd dress all in black, play in a beatnik jazz band, and on saturday nights, he'd throw these great cocktail parties and show movies at his house. I met him at a beat club downtown where the Deadbeats were playing. (That's what they were called.)"

Sally: "So, instead of eating rats like a normal owl, he'd cut off his wife's fingers and eat them??"

Mal:"Oh, everybody ate them. y'know--cocktail platters, ladyfingers? It wasn't like she wasn't growing new ones. The blood was really tangy. I think she *has* to have been a were something. ...but I think he really did it to get a reaction from people. "

Sally: "ok...reaction accomplished. How long did he do this before he was arrested?"

"The Chicago cops were in the pocket of Big Voodoo back then. Everybody knew if they dragged him to court, he'd be squeaky clean and squarer than a shoebox when the jury saw him. I lost track of him around '57. I heard he'd gone to New York, made his fortune as a Yes Man on Madison Avenue, then retired to Florida and bought a farm."

Steven: "uh, Mal, when you say he 'bought a farm'---" (Sally, behind Mal, makes a tightlipped head-shaking gesture) "uh, like, an Orange Grove? a Flamingo Ranch, maybe?"

"I'm not sure. Maybe I should try to find him on the internet."

Sally: "Nah, Mal, you know how it is. You find people when it's time to find them again. Looking is for suckers---uh, I mean, for fools--- uh, y'know, it's just not your style. I think you should just get distracted with something completely unrelated, and forget all about this, before I decide to actually give you that beating I promised ten minutes ago."

Greycleaner G (is for Getting On with It)

Webcomics Nonillustrated, Part Six: Someway, Somehow... (not so much indecent as just long and silly
July 14th, 2009
Current Mood:amused strangely accomplished
Establishing shot (night, full moon) of a ranch-style house and cypress trees, with a marshy pond filled with flamingos in the foreground. Caption reads: "The Jobblewocki's Flamingo Ranch/ Citrusville, Florida"

Panel 2: Interior. Marvin (looking the same as my ill-gotten userpic from the 1950s) and his wife (prim, young, blond, June Cleaver-ish) greet Mal, who is standing in the open front doorway, as well as Sally and Panda, standing behind Mal. Sally looks confused.

Marvin: "Mal! Golly, it's been ages, hasn't it? You look great!
Mal: "Thanks. I try to stay out of the sun. It causes wrinkles."
Marvin: "You remember my wife, of course? Dear, these are Mal's friends, Sally Black and Panda Sapien. "
Dear: (in teensy tiny faded cursive print) 'assorted greetings and pleasantries'

Panel 3: The personae have stepped inside.
Marvin: "Mal, can we get you something to drink?"
Dear, with a slight smile, holds her forearms out towards Mal, wrists upward.
Mal: "No, I'm good."
Marvin; "Anyone else? I've got some Jonestown Cola in the fridge."
Panda: "No, thanks. The bubbles and the cyanide bother my stomach."

Panel 4: a spacious living room furnished in an art deco, early 1960s style. In the background, Mal and Marvin chat comfortably, while Dear looks on contentedly from a few feet away. In the foreground, Sally, now irritated, glares at Panda, who is sitting next to her and shrugging.

Sally: What the hell?? This is Part 6? Where was Part 5, and how'd we get here?

Panda: You skipped Part One, so I skipped Part five.

Sally: Yeah? Well, Part one was three lines. I'm guessing Part Five must've been a good deal longer. So Marvin and his wife are still alive, huh?

Panda: Sure, why not? There's no comedic potential in them being dead.

Sally: They're the same age they were 60 years ago! Care to explain that, for those of us who missed the epic Part Five?

Panda: Well, as weres, they're magical creatures--

Sally: No. I'm a werewolf. We age. You've seen my grandfather. Try again.

Panda: Clean living, healthy lifestyle, and using every product exactly as directed could--

Sally: Eternal Life through Pepsodent and cannibalism? Weaksauce.

Panda: Summer Daydream?

Sally: That's Dounsbury. Mal's only entitled to weekly delusions and two 15-minute psychotic breaks per day, neither of which should be diverting me from my busy schedule.

Panda: Ok, they were put in cryogenic suspension by the Witness Protection Program for ratting out the Broccoli* crime family.

Caption: *(pronounced 'bri-COH-lee').

Sally: the Broccoli crime family?? Who are they? Why do they want Marvin and Dear dead? Since when does the Witness Protection Program have technology like that? or was all this explained in Part Five?

Panda: No, Part Five just drops cryptic hints. It's actually all revealed in 'Marvin & Dear #0'. It's, umm, highly collectible, so there might not be any left by the time you get to the comicbook shop.

Sally: Convenient. You're digging yourself a hole here.

Panda: *sigh* I know, but you have to do that to build a foundation.

Caption, bottom right: to be continued in Part 7. (no, really this time)

Greycleaner H (is for Hear Me Roar)

Webcomics Nonillustrated, Part Seven: A Woman's Place...
July 16th, 2009
Panel 1: the Jobblewockis' living room. maybe ten minutes after Part 6. Sally is sitting next to Panda, and still irritated. Behind her, Judy Dear is coming out of the kitchen with a large platter of cookies in her hands.

Sally: and, honestly? As a feminist, I'm offended that Mal's brought in a character that personifies the mute, Stepford perfect, abuse-sponge housewife stereotype.


Panel 2: Judy Dear is standing next to Sally's chair with the platter, looking at Sally, who is holding up her hand, palm out, as if to block the cookies from her sight.

Dear: (teensy faded cursive print) pleasantries, offering of refreshments?

Sally: No, sorry. none for me.


Panel 3: Close-up of Dear's lips, parted slightly, next to Sally's ear. What we can see of Sally's eye indicates surprise.

Dear (in teensy but black, perfectly crisp Times New Roman, all in one balloon):
Listen, Honey, I've known your friend since Eisenhower was President, so I'll put up with a certain amount of your attitude, but you should be aware that I take gunshots to the chest just for fun, so don't think anything you can dish out will scare me. It's all well and good that you work outside the home and support yourself, but while you're here, you will show respect for me and my family, or I will happily and very discreetly kick your ass, if that is what it takes to show you exactly who is the Alpha Bitch around here. Understand?


Panel 4: As in Panel 2, except Judy Dear is standing a bit straighter, Sally is smiling, eager with pleasant surprise. Sally's hand is now pointing down at the cookies. Panda, apparently oblivious to all this, is reaching out for a cookie.

Sally: ok...understood. and, on second thought, may I have a cookie? ma'am?

Dear (teensy cursive): of course, dear. help yourself. they're fresh baked.


Panel 5: Meanwhile, across the living room, Mal is standing with one foot up on the arm of the sofa, his elbow resting on that knee, his head turned to look at Marvin, who is taking a loaded triple crossbow down off a wall rack just above a mantlepiece.

Marvin: I got this for home defense. You can't be too careful nowadays. Is it true, everyone's supposed to have a Zombie Survival Plan now?

Mal: eh. They're good to have, but I know some zombies at UA* that really aren't all that bad.

Caption: *UA=Undead Anonymous, a support group for the reanimated


Panel 6: Marvin is showing the triple crossbow (which happens to be pointed towards the other end of the room) to Mal, whose eyebrows are raised in admiration.
Mal: That's a beauty.
Marvin: Yeah, the trigger is a bit sensitive, but it sure has a lot of punch!


Panel 7: Judy Dear, Sally, and Panda all gasp. Sally and Panda's eyes are fixed on the three bloody crossbow bolts protuding from bleeding wounds on Judy Dear's chest. In the background, Mal and Marvin look over, embarrassed.

Sally: JUDY!!

Sounds: FWIP! FWIP! FWIP!
Sounds: Splunch! Spploonch! Sppliinch!

Marvin: whoops.

Caption: to be continued in Part 8 (as soon as I finish writing it)

Greycleaner I (is for Injuries)

Webcomics Nonillustrated, Part Eight: Love Hurts
July 24th, 2009
Current Music:"Hey There, Delilah", the Plain White T's
Panel 1: Judy Dear is slumped against Sally's chair, the crossbow bolts still sticking out of her back. Sally has a shocked expression on her face, looking down at Dear.
Sally: You killed her!! You bastards! oh, wait. werecat. right. ...but even so.*
Dear (tiny cursive) I'm all right. It's fine....If you'll excuse me, I think I need to powder my nose...
Sally: uh, yeah, me too

Caption: *Author's Note: Sally's finely honed werewolf senses can distinguish types of werecreatures by the distinctive smell of their blood.


Panel 2: Sally follows Judy as she staggers down the hall (leaning against the wall for support but also leaning forward slightly to suggest continual momentum) ...

Panel 3: ...and is right behind her when she opens the door to the bathroom, which contains a Bulk-size jug of antiseptic and an assortment of surgical tools, including the type of pliers used to pull out bullets.

Dear: (tiny crisp print) Sally, if you'll be so kind to help? These feel like they'll come out better from the back.

Sally: Sure. So...crossbow bolts?

Dear: (tiny crisp) not as fun as bullets.


Panel 4: Dear is leaned forward onto the sink basin, facing the mirror, while Sally uses the pliers to carefully pry the first of the quarrels out.

Sally: Look, Judy, I know I've only known you for two hours, so if you tell me to keep my snout out of this, I'll respect that, but while we're alone, I have to ask--

Sally: Why do you put up with this?


Panel 5: view from mirror, looking straight at Judy's face, (which wears a slight smile, with arched eyebrows, despite the blood trickling from her mouth) Sally behind her, glancing up with her hands still on the pliers.

Dear: (tiny, crisp) Sally, you're a Changer, so I know you can keep a secret. Can I tell you something in the strictest confidence, just between us girls?

Sally: sure.

Dear: (tiny crisp) When Marvin first got his curse, he was terrified of what he was becoming, of his animal nature coming out, of hurting me. So, I showed him that he _couldn't_ hurt me. You see, changers of my generation didn't change in public. It just wasn't done. If I'd turned into a big jungle cat right in front of people, well... they would've run in panic, or called a zookeeper! but, this? It might shock people, but it's not a threat to anyone. It's a quiet way of showing I'm more than what I look like. Ever since, this has been our little game, the way we show we're not afraid (of each other, or ourselves), that we love each other the way we truly are. ...and I have to admit, it's kind of exciting, not knowing when it's going to happen or what form it will take.


Panel 6: Living room. Panda is now sitting on the couch that Marvin and Mal are still standing next to. They all look at a loss for words.

Caption: Living Room...

Panel 7: As in Panel 6

Marvin: ...so, Pluto's not a planet anymore?

Mal: I was surprised, too.

Panda: It turns out there's a whole swarm of them out there. Let Pluto back in, and you'd need to let in all the kuiper objects, and whatever's out in the Oort Cloud.

Marvin: hm. That'd be hard to write a song about. Nothing rhymes with "Oort".

Panda: ...yeah.


Panel 8: Back in the bathroom, Sally is pulling free the last of the quarrels.

Sally: So, this is some big, kinky trust exercise? It's not really abusive at all?

Dear: (tiny, crisp) Oh, sometimes we'll get mad and use it to get out our frustrations. Most couples fight. We mostly just dismember each other... but if Marvin thought for a minute he'd really hurt me, he'd stop on a dime.

Sally: huh. ...do you have tweezers? I think some of this one broke off inside.


Panel 9: a few seconds later, Dear (still bent over) is handing Sally the tweezers.

Dear: (tiny crisp) So, you and Mal don't have any understandings like that?

Sally: Me and Mal?? Hell, no. I'm not dating him. He's a vampire, for Christ's sake!

Dear: (tiny crisp) I've seen mixed marriages work.


Panel 10: Close-up of Sally staring intently into Judy Dear's wounds, as she picks around inside with the tweezers.

Sally: *sigh* This might take a little while.

Dear: (tiny crisp, off-panel in direction of her head) Some things do...

Sally: Forget it, Judy.


Panel 11: Living room. Panda is looking up attentively at Marvin, who is bent at the waist towards Panda, holding one hand out towards him, fingers outstretched, palm down; and grinning widely as he talks. Mal, behind them, has his head back and eyes clenched shut, roaring with laughter.

Caption: ...a little while later.

Marvin: so then the cabbie looks at Sammy DelRubio, then he looks at Mal, then he looks back at me and says, 'I don't know what you guys've got, but I'm hosing this whole cab down with bactine as soon as I get back to the garage!'

Mal: HAH-ha-ha-HA!!
[note to letterer: The transliteration of laughs into print is, as you know, a treacherous science. One might say it's simpler to put in a cloud of "HA"s in various sizes and call it good. Then again, I don't have a letterer, so I had to put something.]


Panel 12: Marvin's attention is snagged by Dear, fully recovered, stepping into the frame. (Mal has stopped to catch his breath and dry his eyes.)

Panel 13: Close-up of Marvin's ear. Dear's lips are near it, parted slightly.

Dear: (tiny, crisp) Marvin, darling, no more crossbows. They give me splinters. Sally was forever getting them all out.

Marvin: (tiny, crisp) oh! Yes, dear.


Panel 14: Dear, smiling serenely, stands next to Marvin, who looks over at Mal, who looks pleasantly surprised.

Marvin: Hey, Mal-- you want to buy a crossbow? It's slightly used, but I could let it go for cheap.

Mal: wow! Seriously??


Panel 15: Marvin is now reaching for the crossbow, abandoned just beyond the panel in the direction of the wall and mantlepiece. Dear has rolled her eyes in a bemused expression. Sally pokes her head into the panel from the direction of the rest of the living room and looks at Mal with annoyance, as he does to her. Panda ducks his head down to stay out of this.

Sally: Mal, so help me, if I so much as feel the wind of one of those bolts flying past, I will nail you into your coffin with no cellphone for a week.

Mal: Yeah, I hear you, Sally.

Sally: Listen and remember, bloodsucker.


Panel 16: Sally is gone again. Marvin has resumed his previous position (from Panel 14), except now he's holding the empty crossbow. Mal looks at him ambivalently.

Mal: I..i'll think about it.


Next time: the Epilogue. probably.

Greycleaner J (is for July)

rant from a feverish world
July 31st, 2009
Current Location:feels like Manila
Current Mood:bitchy bitchy
Today was a random-little-things bad day, and I didn't feel great about myself and my place in the world. I shouldn't have read all those Writers' Block posts about how people met. (The stories are never useful. I always think they will be. Most of the bloggers have nothing useful to say on the topic, and they made it sound so *easy*. Misdial a phone! Chat with your mom while ordering fries! You, too, can find love in any bloody place with grown-up non-related humans in it!)
Ironically, have been showering daily...but sweating so much in this heat, I never get that 'clean' feeling...or even that 'dry' feeling. It's so hot, I keep thinking I'm feverish until I remember. Every time I feel anger, I drench myself in sweat. Nonetheless, I don't want winter back.

Greycleaner K (is for knowing better)

Luck of the Irate
November 2nd, 2009
Current Location:Dublin, Ireland
Current Mood:annoyed annoyed
I was having a fairly good day at work tonight (despite having been cut three and half hours today) until some punk kid co-worker (whom I know only by face, not name) comes up to me and asks when I'm out, how many hours I'm working today. I assume this is small talk (read: empty social ritual the normals feel better if you engage in. It's like Facebook, but in person.) Then he hits me with "I've got you beat. I'm here until seven. You're lucky, you get to go home in three hours, while I'll be slaving away all night."
Outwardly, I let it slide. Inwardly, though, I'm very pissed off by this passive-aggressive social sucker punch. The "You're Lucky" line is a pet peeve with me, probably because I'm both lawful enough to care and smart enough to know how stupid the statement is. The Whinier-than-thou is generally protesting the unfairness of a world where their cupcake is gone (because they ate it) while my cupcake is still there (because I haven't had time to eat it). "I'm lucky" (and therefore somehow culpable or supposed to feel bad) because I'm working less hours or because I usually don't get my hours cut or because I'm going home sooner because I came in earlier (different whiners, different days).
I saw the punk kid in the breakroom twentysomething minutes later. He didn't clock in until at least ten, which meant his oh-so-long day was a regular 8-hour shift like I've done 5 days a week for years... and one of the few times I'm not working a full shift, this moron pops up out of Central Casting to call me lazy. I debated an attempt at enlightening the benighted sod, but ultimately decided he'd just see wisdom as an attack. The problem is, most people nowadays are stupid because they want to be. It's so hard to tell which ones would catch a clue if you tossed them one.
When I was a full-time caregiver for my Dad, some of the other patients at the Dialysis Ward would tell Dad he was "lucky" because he only had to have dialysis twice a week (He still had 10% kidney function.) I would always look at them like they'd just declared Gerald Ford as their Personal Lord and Savior, but I never said out loud what I thought about that: 1. Dad was also younger than two-thirds of the patients in there. 2. Dad had other problems in his life which were certainly not symptoms of 'good luck'. and, primarily, 3. If he was 'lucky', he wouldn't need dialysis at all.

Greycleaner L (is for Living Life at Lightspeed)

Every Year the Holidays Come Swinging at your Head...
November 3rd, 2009
Current Mood:blah blah
[title courtesy of singer Jonatha Brooke]
Fall back clocks? done.
Make saving throws vs. hibernation instinct.
Put away Jack o' Lantern.
Give Away rest of Halloween Candy before I eat it all. partially done.
Look over Halloween Clearance for useful cosplay / gothy items.
Replace Elvira poster on outside of apt door with a picture of Thanksgiving symbols being given the bum's rush by symbols of Christmas.
Vote tomorrow!
Call brother, find out if I can have Thanksgiving with him this year.
Talk to new manager in charge of my dept, ask for 3-4 days off around Christmas (yes, ma'am, it's important) and another 3 days for New Years (yes, ma'am, it's also important).
Finish Wish List by Thanksgiving.
Finish Christmas shopping by New Year's.
Write / illustrate book.
Do my Christmas lights actually light up? yes.
Buy christmas tree angel and long strand of synthetic pine branches; disguise lamp-post as a Christmas tree: done.
Bemoan how fast time seems to move while sitting between a metal Christmas tree and a plastic jack o' lantern? done.

Greycleaner M (is for Melancholy Missives on Mental Illness)

A Very Special Word from Mal ... on being crazy (in lieu of Blood & Popcorn, Part Five)
November 22nd, 2009
Current Location:Bangor
Current Mood:eerily serious
Current Music:the Highwaymen, "Committed to Parkview"
Splash panel. Mal is seated on the floor in a bare room with white walls. Above him, written on the wall in dripping red fluid, are the words, "Crazy We Are, Lest Mentally Ill We Become." His expression is grim and intense.

Mal: "While I have a lucid moment, I'd like to use it to explain something important. Most of you know full well that words like "zany" or "neurotic", applied to me, are merely euphemisms for 'crazy'. Before you get the wrong idea, you need to understand that I don't do the things I do to belittle or mock those who suffer from mental illness. If there is a message to my madness, it is that it's ok to think differently from others, and let others think differently from you. I do what I do to make the voices in the dark a little less scary, a little less powerful. I do what I do because there are problems you can't solve by driving a stake through them, and sometimes, the worst thing you can do to your personal demons is hollow them out from the inside, drag them into the light, and make them dance for you. ... and, like so many other people, I do what I do because I don't really have a choice. This is the mind I was given. This is the life I was given. All we can do is do the best with what we have. "

"That being said, if you feel you are being compelled or tricked into hurting yourself or others; if you feel like you need to eat your wife's fingers or drink bleach-- get help. Please. There's no shame is asking for help when you need it. It is no different from blindness, deafness or epilepsy. It is not your fault, and you are not alone. "

"...On the other hand, as a wise man once said, 'If you're hearing voices, but they're not telling you to do anything bad, for Heaven's sake, don't tell anyone!' Not every neurological quirk is worth what they'll put you through trying to fix it. Just being strange is not an illness, and there are people who live with their illness and stay functional and sane. ...and if you do get caught being different-minded and they try to fix you, insist on a doctor of the opposite sex ...because psychiatrists are so delicious. They're like vodka and fruit juice... and there's always the slight chance you can turn them into your sexy clown-suited uber-groupie. "

"Lucid's over. We now return you to your regularly-scheduled comic strip, already in progress."

Webcomics Nonillustrated presents Blood& Popcorn, Part Nine: the Lost Epilogue

Panel 1: Marvin & Judy are standing in their front door, waving goodbye. Mal is in the front yard, carrying the triple crossbow, waving back. Next to him, Panda is sheepishly but pointedly avoiding Sally's gaze, walking in the opposite direction of the door. Sally walks next to Panda, looking at him with a mischievous grin and suppressing a laugh.

Dear: (tiny cursive) well-wishes and good-byes

Marvin: ...so you go west about a quarter mile into the swamp, and you'll come to the Interdimensional Nexus. You can't miss it. If you run across a muck-encrusted mockery of the human form, that's just Ted. Don't worry, he's harmless.*

Sally: *snerk*

Caption: * see Webcomics Nonillustrated: 'He's One Bad Mossy Figure'

Panel 2: Sally, Panda,and Mal are seen in the distance walking through the swamp. Unnoticed by them, in the foreground, a trunk-nosed muck-encrusted mockery of a man plays cards with a bipedal alligator smoking a cigar and a humanoid possum wearing a referee shirt.

Caption: about an eighth of a mile later...

Sally: I can't believe you bought that crossbow anyway.

Mal: It's just a precautionary measure. I won't be firing it everyday. If it makes you feel better, I'll put it in one of those locked fire boxes that say, 'in case of zombie apocalypse, break glass'

Sally: It doesn't sound very useful. What if the zombies don't care that you've shot crossbow bolts into them?

Mal: That's why I want to buy a flamethrower, and put it in another locked box that says 'In Case of Lack of Fire, Break Glass' but that's more like a stretch goal.

Sally: oh, hell no.

Mal: This'll tide me over in the meantime.

Panda: so, um, good trip, right?

Sally: Yes, Fine, Panda. I admit it, I had fun, even if you did shanghai me into it.

Sally: I should've gotten the recipe for those cookies. I thought maybe they had raisins in them, but it didn't taste like normal raisins. It was more, I don't know...

Panel 3: Closer shot of Panda, Sally, and Mal walking. Mal is grinning widely with his mouth open. Sally is wide-eyed, her hands to her mouth in shock.

Mal: ...tangy?

Sally: No! You don't mean...it couldn't!

Mal: (singsong) Yooouu'llllll Nevvverr Know for Sure.......