…Makin’ the Same Thing For Fifteen Years….

I'm putting peanut butter on bread, singing, "Makin' the same thing for fifteen years...." The Fluffy One pokes his head over the counter and asks, "What is it you have? Please, give some to me!" He looks adorable as he pats the peanut butter on the knife and asks, "The butter of peanuts? Is it like the brother's favorite creamy cheese?" He decides, "I don't want it! You can give it to the dog." The Puppy says, "But it's got cat germs." "It is fine!" The Fluffy One replies. I stand there watching them, licking the peanut butter off the knife.

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.

The Bright Side

The Slinky One continues his message. "Okay, I'll see you when I see you. You're all gonna die and I'll have slept on all the good stuff first." Four hours, twenty-four minutes, and three seconds into his video, he announces that he's now gonna sing some songs. In the third panel, we're all watching The Slinky One on the computer, singing Always Look On The Bright Side Of Life.

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.

Coping Tools.

I stand next to the portrait of The Slinky One, holding his favorite toy. I explain that it's called a Kitty Can't Cope Sack and that he said he took away all his woes. The Puppy says, "Oh yeah, I remember that thing! It doesn't do anything for me." the butterflies say, "Nip is good!" The Fluffy One says, "It is only magical for the cats." In the third panel, I take a lick of the catnip toy.

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.

 

A Visit to the Vet

The Puppy greets The Slinky One with a wagging tail. "Oh hey, where'd you go? we were freaking out!" she says. "Bro, is it you?" The Fluffy One asks, sniffing his bro. "I went to that doctor of yours!" The Slinky One declares. In the second panel, it cuts to me holding him at the door of the vet's office as he looks through to a dog outside. "I never saw so many people! And dogs! Dogs that look like cats, even!" In the third panel, it's now and he says, "Then they took me in the back room and stuck a thermometer up my bottom." His brother licks his face and the Puppy looks away and says, "Ya, they do that."

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.

Well, There’s a Girl and a Spider Web, Anyway.

In a very literal and yet very loose translation of The Girl In The Spider's Web, I'm stuck to a wall by a spiderweb. Dressed like Lisbeth Salander in black with combat boots and punk hair, I say, "If only I could get near a computer! Or a hammer! I could save everyone! I could make a difference!" In the next panel, the Spider hangs from a tree on a snowy cliff near an open laptop. "All these years," he says, "Why didn't you?"
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.)