Sometimes we swap who has the experience in real life for who has it in the strip, sometimes so one of us doesn’t get in trouble with Kara, and sometimes because each of the strip’s primary participants – the pieces Gabriel and I move around tactically in the comic – has access to different words and tones. Gabriel could deliver a similar sentiment to Wednesday’s first panel, perhaps, but it got a strong assist from baroque language and a whiff of ancient mystery. In the case of today’s offering, it’s actually my neighbor – but Gabriel’s exasperation made it more fun in our opinion.
We’re just making the strip now, but this fucking Idolator had this shit up on November 1st. Night before? Hallowe’en terrors lit grimly in bruisy purples, an inverse nativity to glorify his father Satan. I looked out my window the next day to delight myself in what must surely be an unseasonable extension of that unhallowed scene, to find some crack in his utter paternal supremacy, I saw a that a squat Santa had entered his harem and that the witches and goblins had retreated to the humid warrens beneath his home. The lighting had been utterly renewed; I saw a color there I had never seen before. I did some research. It was joy.
I still have a pumpkin on my porch now.
I would be surprised if this exemplar parses me as a man at all – and I have evidence. I was walking by his house once, and tried to put his outgoing mail in my mouth
(CW)TB out.