She had held it in too long. Too long had she let apathy and the drudge of life suppress that joy that was hers. It was a small thing that woke her up. But for this small thing she would ever be grateful. A small thing yes. A small thing delivered by the biggest thing.

He pushed himself in everything. In his job he pushed himself the hardest. Some say he lost everything. Some say the change gained him a perspective none, but him would ever understand.

Aiming for greater things he found himself before the moose head monolith filled with the wrath of bees and the terrible shapes of modernity.

A Note: The questionable quality of this comic comes from some spirited exploration in style and medium. I went well outside of my comfort zone on this one and it shows. However, I am still happy to present it.

You wish God was dead.

Observe Sally; she has found in a box in the attic a key. After holding the cold metal in her hand, it taking on her own ambient temperature, she considered the familiarity of the object. Its shape and weight. The strangeness of its teeth as opposed to other keys. Then it struck her. The shape of the reset port on her government-issued blinders. She rushed down the ladder and into the bathroom to stare into …

Who would have thought the most punk rock thing you could do as a man, would be to be faithful to one woman, marry her, and raise a family.