If you had told me I’d still be making this comic fifteen years later, that I’d even still be alive to make this comic, that I would get way better than when I started…I’d have been weirded out that you knew where to find my comic. I mean, it’s not like the cool kids of webcomics embraced me or anything.
So it’s peanut butter time again, and I think we’ll keep doing this thing. Still have some stories to tell.
I guess this is as good a time as any to ask what kind of merchandise you’d want to see from me? What would you want to see on a shirt? Would I sell more than three copies of a book of these comics? Now’s your chance to talk to me, in case you didn’t realize you could all along. You have until June 1st.
I have to admit one month later, I can’t find the bright side of losing my Slinky Son, but I started this year listening to Eric Idle’s audiobook Always Look On The Bright Side Of Life: A Sortabiography. I credit the Pythons for keeping me alive until black cats came into my life, and for the first week of 2019, one spent some time in my ears on those cold mornings when I was horribly aware of what was coming. Did I do my Slinky son justice? Only here in the comic. Would this be what he’d do? Obviously I think this is what he’d do. He was always singing, and sang this more than once over the years. Hell, I want this song played at my funeral.
The Kitty Can’t Cope Sacks had to have some high-grade magical nip in them, he would lick them all night, sometimes while lying on my head. The sound of his spiky tongue dragging on the nip was the best way to go to sleep. If I had a white noise machine, I’d put the recording I have of his late-night SCRAPE SCRAPE SCRAPE in there and be happy forever.
So yeah, The Slinky One was amazingly cool about going to the doctor. His bloodwork was 99.9% normal, except for a bit of inflammation. The doctor told him he loved him and then made him cry poking around in his mouf. He was given a pile of medication he didn’t like and saw dogs and lots of people and even a bus! He was fascinated by all the things going on outside the office. Later he told us he thought what happened in the back room was because of the way he bet on the Super Bowl.
Everyone who saw The Girl In The Spider’s Web are yelling, “spoilers!” and everyone who didn’t is just like, “Damn, Lynda, you do…stuff!” But, you know what, I’m just wondering how we’re having this conversation considering I’m clearly in a room and the Spider is clearly on a cliff. Oh well.
(And yes, for those who are into Lisbeth Salander’s shirts, those numbers do correspond to those letters of the alphabet and HAHA I amuse myself so much.)