The Squawking Dead

"Well, hello there, Daryl Dixon. How are you doing this fine day? By the way, if you give a hoot, don't p--"

Zzzzwip!

Thud.



And that was right about the time the kids at Hogwarts stopped getting their mail.



Rrrrrip!

Rrrrrip!

Rrrrrip!

"Say, Daryl. Did I get any letters from Dumbledore tod--?"

Rrrrrip!



"Oh."



Till next we meet ...

You Ever Get That Not-So-Fresh Feeling?

I sometimes get the occasional dirty look when I use public rest rooms in NYC and then don't wash my hands.

But I have my reasons.

Chief among them?

There is an extremely high probability that my tender nethers are cleaner than anything in that room.

Your Honor, I offer these recycled tweets as proof:

In crowded Penn Station men's room last night, not one, but TWO dudes simultaneously sink-washing their units! New record!

— Robb Badlam (@BuckyUnderbelly) October 19, 2012

To be clear: Separate sinks. Did not appear to be aware of one another. One: Gentle dauber. Other: Vigorous scrubber. #SometimesIDontHeartNY

— Robb Badlam (@BuckyUnderbelly) October 19, 2012

And now you have that image burned into your brain meat, too!

You're welcome.



Till next we meet ...

Silent But Peril-y! (Stick Figures In Peril!)

Another sign that Peril is ever-present in the Stick Figure Universe ...

Despite the obvious need, Beano does not exist in the Second Dimension.

Presumably the box contains a Jumping-Jack-Flash-In-The-Box. Because it's a ... you know ... a gas gas gas.






Because farting!




(Tee-hee-hee! I'm seven years old!)



Till next we meet ...

Awww! But Eskimos Offer the BEST Corruption!

At work we recently had to complete an online course to help us learn how to not be corrupt.

But I found this page of the quiz to include one weirdly specific example. See if you can spot it:

This is a problem for me, since, as a pre-condition of my employment, I ONLY accept payment in the form of MXZ Ski-Doos with Sport packages and Rotax 550F engines.



Till next we meet ...

Thanksgiving Dinner is Going To Be Perilously Awkward (Stick Figures In Peril!)

Mom? Dad? Nanna? Weird Uncle Larry?

I ... I don't know the right words ... so I'm just gonna say it ...

This Chest of Drawers and I are in love! We're getting married! And there's not a thing you can do or say that will change that!

God! That felt so great to say that out loud! It's like a huge weight has been lifted off my shoulders! What's that you say, Chester? Exactly! Like a huge weight has been removed from your top drawer! JUST like that! Our minds! You see! It's like they're linked! This is why we're soulmates!

No, Dad, he's not Lutheran. He's Chippendale.

No, Nanna, not like the dancers.

I SAID: NO, NANNA, NOT LIKE THE DANCERS!

What do you mean, "old?" He's not "old," mother! He's an antique! There's a difference!

No, he most certainly did NOT rob the cradle! I don't care what you heard at the salon! Those charges were dismissed!

Because that cradle is a lying skank is why!

(An icy silence settles over the dining room. Uncle Larry continues chewing noisily, as though nothing is happening. Mother and daughter eye one another warily.)

Chester, could you pass me one of my sweaters. It's getting a little chilly in here.



Till next we meet ...

Got Squash?

INT. CONFERENCE ROOM - AD AGENCY OFFICES - DAY

A group of AD MEN hunch over a conference table. Smoke hangs thick in the air. Brows are furrowed.

The AD MEN stare at the blank note pads in front of them. Someone taps a fountain pen, deep in thought.

AD MAN 1

Dammit! Think, people, think! The client needs a mascot for their squash farm! Something memorable! A character people can identify with! Here's the thing, though ... the client insists that this mascot be a fleshy, dissolute, New York City cab driver from the 1950s. The kind of guy who, and I'm quoting here, "looks like he's got multiple sex crimes convictions and may be sweating out a major heroin bender as we speak."

AD MAN 2

Wait. How would that help sell squash exactly?

AD MAN 1

Remember boys, satisfying the client is job number one.

AD MAN 2

Hang on a--

AD MAN 3

I got it! We oughta call my Uncle Louie!

AD MAN 3 takes a photo out of his wallet and slaps it down in front of AD MAN 1.

AD MAN 2

I don't know if--

AD MAN 1

What are his qualifications?

AD MAN 3

He has to put up fliers every time he moves to a new neighborhood!

AD MAN 1

GOOD!

AD MAN 2

Um--

AD MAN 3

Also, he's kind of slow because of all of the massive and repeated head trauma!

AD MAN 1

YES!

AD MAN 2

But--

AD MAN 3

And then there was that thing at the petting zoo ...

AD MAN 1

SOLD!

AD MAN 2

Guys--?

AD MAN 1

Put Uncle Louie's picture on a sticker and slap one on every squash in the store! Gentlemen ...? Our work here is done! That's lunch! Time to swill gallons of scotch and smoke bales of unfiltered cigarettes!

The AD MEN file triumphantly out of the conference room, back-slapping and congratulating each other as they go.

AD MAN 2 hangs behind. He picks up the photo.

AD MAN 2

Oh! Oh my ...!

His hands begin to tremble as the photo slips from his fingers.

AD MAN 2

Oh, dear sweet Jesus!

He buries his face in his hands and weeps.

AD MAN 2 starts screaming. He may never stop.

BLACKOUT

Till next we meet.