Cliff

Dancing

The music comes on and the beat is infectious. My head starts to bop in time with the music as the lyrics start to sound. It’s not just the drum beat anymore, the added instruments add such a dimension and spirit to the song that my head is no longer the only part of my body moving. I give in to the power of the rythm and just enjoy the dance. I’ve given up caring what’s going through my friends’ heads…I am enjoying myself. I decided to step outside the precarious web I’ve constructed to ensure a sound foundation to my friendship. If that structure falls, at least it happened while being myself. As I see smiles crack on my friends’ faces, I get more into the dance and they join in. The realization dawns on me that all is ok. We’re all having a great time and they really enjoy my crazy side! Hmmm…I hope that those statues don’t fall off that shelf from my random dancing.

GameLandEtc Strip 32

In today’s episode, we take Nintendo’s words and force them to eat it with a nice slice of humble pie.

Heretic Anguish – Part 1 Heroes – Chapter 7 When the Going Gets Tough…

Chapter 7

When the Going Gets Tough…

1:15 p.m. Sun. 9/30/20?? – 1:33 p.m. Sun. 9/30/20??

Soon the cab ride was over, and Paul had to continue on foot. The sky was blue, the streets were a little dirty, and the air had the slight aroma of smog. He had gone about seven blocks when a punk in gang colors stopped him saying, “This’s a toll road. If you give me all your money, you ugly fuck, I might let ya through. Otherwise my homies’n I will hafta give ya a beat down, get it?” As he finished, two more thugs stepped out of a nearby ally.

“I don’t have any cash right now,” Paul said. He had come prepared for trouble with the baseball bat, which he tried to keep concealed in his jacket. It didn’t look like he was packing heat, but it still looked kind of funny.

“Fuck you, asshole,” said the gang member who’d started the whole thing.

He drew a switchblade. “Now I’m gonna be nice’n give you another chance ta pay up, so do it already!” As he finished, the girl behind him pulled out a chain. Paul turned his pockets inside out to show that he had no cash, hoping that maybe, just maybe, they’d let him go. He kept his right hand on the bat.

Enraged, the punk with the switchblade tried to stab Paul. His fingers were smashed by Paul’s bat with one swift movement and the knife fell to the ground. Paul then elbowed him in the gut and quickly turned his forearm downward, hitting the thug in the crotch, hard, with the bat. The gang member collapsed as the girl behind him came at Paul with her chain. It rapped around the bat as Paul blocked the attack. Swinging his bat back he pulled the chain out of her hands, sending it flying over his back. He brought the handle down on her head. By now the punk who had started the whole thing had gotten up and was standing beside his disarmed friend. Rapidly moving his hands to the middle of the bat, Paul shoved it forward. They got it in the gut. Paul ripped it up to their chins, knocking both of them over.

Someone yelled, “Get down!” and Paul’s attention quickly shifted to the guy who hadn’t joined the fight. He’d taken the time to move back away from Paul to pull out a gun from his trench coat, which he was aiming at Paul’s forehead. He squeezed the trigger and a gunshot rang through the air.

Jovian Inspiration

This was a new approach. I created the Jovian planet in Illustrator before incorporating it.

Jovian planet with streaking comets

Lunch Hour

Something I never understood as a child was why there are cars out on the road during the day. All the kids were at school and all the adults were at work, so who was driving? I understood that sometimes there were dentist appointments and doctors appointments that you had to go to during the day, but surely this could not account for all the cars driving around. I thought maybe some of the cars were grandparents, because they didn’t work, but it still seemed like too many cars. I just didn’t understand who was driving them.

One day, my father explained something to me about working full time. He told me he used to look out the window at all the cars speeding by when he was in school, and he thought how nice it must be free during the day. He explained that school only happens during certain hours, but work is not necessarily the same. My father, a college professor, wasn’t required to be in his office all day long. Sure, he had to go to class, and the occasional department meetings, but the rest of his work he could do when he wanted, where he wanted. And then he explained to me the magical concept called “lunch hour”. Just like school, you ate your lunch, but in the working world, you didn’t go over to your backpack at noon, get your lunch, eat at your desk for half an hour, and then start learning again. When you had a job, you could do whatever you wanted at lunch! You could go home, or eat at work. Sometimes you would even meet with people to chat over lunch at a restaurant. You could also get things done during lunch hour, which, by the way, was sometimes longer than an hour! You could return your library books, or go home to let the dog outside, or go read a book in the park.

Every day I ate lunch at school I dreamt of getting in a car and driving wherever I wanted during my lunch time. I would be free. My first job, at the local Taco Bell, didn’t give me a lunch hour. After working for 4 hours I got a “break” in which I could get up to $5.00 of food for free, and I would sit in the restaurant and eat. Half an hour just was not long enough to go anywhere for lunch. Plus, my “break” rarely came anywhere near lunch time (hmmm, maybe this explains why there are cars on the road at 2:00 pm. . . ).

Finally, after waiting for years and years, I had a job with a real lunch hour. Around noon, everyone walked out of the office. The lights were turned off, the door was locked, and about an hour and a half later we all returned. At first, I was unsure about what do in this block of time that I had to myself. I’d thought about, dreampt about, this for so long, but had no clue what I really wanted to do. I tried out many things – I went home to let the dogs out, I sat at a restaurant with a friend, I stopped at the library, I stayed at the office, I returned a pair of pants to Sears, I filled my car with gas. I was finally free! In this hour and a half, I could do anything! I started skipping out the door at lunch, excited to get in my car, put the windows down, listen to my music, and do whatever I felt like doing at the time.

Concerned Customer

(Click here for more GameLand, Etc. posts)

The Untitled Saga 1: Untitled

Once upon a time, I was commissioned by King Bob the Wise Narcoleptic to hunt down and slay the dreaded Lumberjack. Long had the unholy fiend chopped the lumber of the fair citizens of the Kingdom of Influenza, and it was my duty as First Knight of the Silver Spatula to end the nightmare. But, as King Bob the Wise Narcoleptic warned, it would not be easy. For I would need to inherit the psychic powers of the legendary mystic, Basted Ham, and arm myself with the Sacred Salami Saber. Then – and only then – would I be able to face the Lumberjack.

I proceeded to the nearest Starbucks after receiving my commission, in order to get directions. Kicking in the door I yelled, “Where may I find the mystic Basted Ham, the Sacred Salami Saber, and the wretched Lumberjack?!”

A moose, drunk with mocha, stepped forward. “I can tell you, good Sir Knight.”

“Out with it man!” I yelled, then ordered a double latté.

“First of all I must ask if you are a man of courage, bravery, valor, chivalry, honor, and good credit history. Are you?” the moose asked.

“You know I am!” I cried. “You’re my banker for crying out loud! Stop trying to sell me a credit card and tell me what I need to know!”

“Very well,” the moose said. “But be warned; nothing but death and eternal paperwork awaits you. If you face this peril-”

He was stalling and I couldn’t take it any longer. I stopped him mid-sentence. “Directions man, directions!” I yelled, giving him my credit cards to loosen his lips.

“Basted Ham is in the alley out back,” the moose said immediately. “The Sacred Salami Saber can be found in the ruins of the De Limark Et civilization, and the Lumberjack can be found in a cave atop Mt. Noodle, which lies beyond the Valley of the Doughnut and the Frozen Chocolate River.”

“Thanks!” I proceeded out the back door and into the alley. Basted Ham was meditating atop a trashcan. I could tell she had been fasting, for she looked rather glazed.

Her eyes slid open and focused on me. “Why have you come?” she asked.

“To inherit your powers so I may stop the Lumberjack’s dreaded doomsday deforestation!” said I.

“Ah, the Lumberjack,” she said. “Someone to bring an end to his reign of terror. Interesting.” She hopped off of the trashcan. “To inherit my powers, you must answer my riddle. Failure results in me suing you for every cent you’ll ever earn. Do you consider the risk worth it?”

I nodded.

“I am as inevitable as death and taxes. I cause the prior and am subject to the latter. I look like dog food and am placed in sandwiches. I can be fried. I come in a can, and I bring terror to those online. What am I?” she riddled.

“Spam,” I said. It was the obvious answer.

Her jaw dropped. “No one has ever answered correctly before. You may inherit my powers upon completion of the 10,000,000 page application.”

“By then the Lumberjack will have fed all our lumber to his fiendish chainsaw!” I cried. “Is there no other way?!”

“If you could entertain me, I might decide to use my powers to fill out the application for you,” said she.

“What did you have in mind?” I asked.

“Fetch me a blender!” she ordered.

I fetched a blender.

“Now, listen carefully,” said Basted Ham. “Place a can of Spam, two Twinkies, half a cup of Starbucks coffee, a lawnmower, three chairs, a flake of dandruff, a genetically engineered salesman, and the contents of a septic tank inside. Mix on the so-called ‘*&%$’ setting until creamy.”

I did as she asked.

“Now drink it!” she cackled, clapping her hands together.

“NO!!!!!” I screamed in terror for my immortal soul. “PLEASE, ANYTHING BUT THIS!!!!!!”

“Would you rather do the paperwork?” she crooned.

Groaning, I gulped the vile mix down. It tasted like chicken with a hint of vanilla. It had an aftertaste of earwax fried sunny-side up and burned chocolate.

The mystic fell over laughing. “Here comes my favorite part!” she laughed.

I was about to ask what she meant when I began to feel a distinct change take place. To my horror, I was transformed into a big, blue, coffee-breathing she-ogre with tie-dye eyes, wearing nothing but some purple boxers and something I could only hope was a strange hat. “Yeah, real funny,” I said.

It took her three hours to stop laughing. When she had, she gave me her powers as agreed. I now had the power to overcharge people for fortune readings, trim my nosehair, and, most importantly, combat the Lumberjack.

“This isn’t…. permanent, is it?” I asked, quaking with fear.

“The potion? Of course not,” she said. “Your skin color will change every hour for the rest of your life, but you’ll be a guy again in a month and human again after a year.”

“Phew!” I said, relieved. I then set out for the De Limark Et ruins. Upon arriving, I signed up for one of the regularly offered tours.

It was an hour later when I finally saw the legendary weapon, the Sacred Salami Saber. Flashing my knight’s license at the security guards, I shattered the protective glass and took it. After completing the tour, I set out for the Lumberjack’s lair.

It took a month of hacking through solid jungle, but I eventually reached the Valley of the Doughnut, wherein lay the Frozen Chocolate River. I purchased a map at the gift shop and began my search for the correct hiking trail.

I found it. It took me five long years because I didn’t realize I was holding the map upside-down, but I found it. I snatched a trail guide from the box at the trail’s entrance and off I went.

I followed the trail, “oo-ing” and “ah-ing” at all the sites the guide pointed out. These included the Custard-Filled Cliff, the Glazed Grove, the Giant Bear’s Claw, and Cinnamon Bun Rock. I decided that when my next vacation came, I would spend it here.

I finally reached the Frozen Chocolate River at the bottom. I could see Mt. Noodle on the other side. Seeing a trail marker, I opened my guide and began reading.

“This is the end of the trail,” it read. “The river is made of frozen chocolate syrup, as you can see. All who have tried to cross it went crazy from the constant smell of it. They were unable to relieve their chocolate cravings since the river is frozen so solid that it would shatter their teeth. Although no one knows for sure, it has been theorized that there may be peanuts in it somewhere….”

I stopped reading, for I would have passed out from boredom if I had continued. I did not fear the river though, for I had a plan.

Pulling out my trusty lighter, I melted the river and drank it all. It was the worst tasting chocolate I had ever had in my life! Of course, that was what I’d expected. The chocolate was several eons old after all.

I crossed over to Mt. Noodle on the dry peanut brittle that was underneath the river. I tried to climb the mountain, but there were no footholds. No problem though, for the mountain was made of tender noodle. I just ate out footholds as needed. It was even nastier than the Formerly Frozen Chocolate River, Now the Barren Peanut Plains, but it had to be done.

Cursing my knightly duty, I climbed all the way to the top and entered the cave. I found myself in a large noodle-maze once inside. “Show yourself, Lumberjack, for your day has come!” I yelled.

“Another Chainsaw Salesman?!” the Lumberjack’s guttural voice boomed from somewhere ahead. “Sick him Ljkimnqopzhaxv!” Scuttling footsteps eagerly began to approach me.

“Lumberjack! Just who is Lj…. Lj…. The Unpronounceable One?” I demanded.

“My demon-possessed pet hamster,” the Lumberjack answered. The footsteps were very close now.

Suddenly, Ljkimnqopzhaxv rounded the nearest corner. He was about two inches long, cute, and fuzzy. I was about to pet him when he roared like a lion and began spitting chainsaws at me. I ran for my life.

“Ljkimnqopzhaxv likes salesmen!” the Lumberjack roared. “They’re his favorite food!”

I rounded a corner and waited. No one spits chainsaws at me and gets away with it! I used my psychic powers to keep track of the hamster’s progress. Then, I pulled the Sacred Salami Saber out of its sheath. Just as Ljkimnqopzhaxv was rounding the corner, I blasted him with a wave of Holy Peppercorns from the Sacred Salami Saber, as I was taught to do in Handling Sacred Weapons 101.

Needless to say, the power of the Sacred Salami Saber quickly overcame and destroyed the unpronounceable evil of the Lumberjack’s hamster.

“NO!!! MY POOR HAMSTER!!!!” the Lumberjack wept. He crashed through the macaroni wall to my left and then I was face to face with his unspeakable evil.

“Serves you right for maliciously chopping the lumber of the innocent,” said I.

“You’ll die for this!” he screamed. There was no mercy within any of his 5/3 eyes in his 5/3 heads, although I could swear one head was checking me out. His massive torso was a wall of solid plaid chest hair, sticking out like thorns. His jeans were literally screaming to be let out. In one clawed hand, he held a double-chainsaw, in the other, a pitcher of pure willow syrup. He was twelve feet tall, six feet wide, and sporting a goatee on each head.

He spat in my face then slapped me.

I saw red. My knightly pride had been grievously insulted! “You have just paid a Knight of the Silver Spatula the worst insult imaginable!” I cried. “My sword hand burns with rage and my eyes get sore at the site of you. You stink, you’re ugly, and you suck! According to knight’s code 135, section 8, subsection 5678, paragraph -54, there is only one way to resolve this!”

“I agree,” the Lumberjack said.

And so it was agreed that I would face the Lumberjack the next day in an ugly pageant. (An ugly pageant is like a beauty pageant, only different.) I was not afraid. With Basted Ham’s powers, I had foreseen my victory.

The big day came, and it was broadcast on national television. We were neck-and-neck for some time, then the Lumberjack pulled ahead in the talent competition. While I was carving poultry sculptures with my teeth, he was demolishing buildings by yodeling. I more than made up for it in the swimsuit competition though, for my skin-color had shifted to “bacon bits floating in a liver.” The Lumberjack’s wooden one-piece muumuu was no match for my two-piece tuna colored swimsuit. With the points gained there, I won the pageant.

“I…. I feel so happy!” I said as I accepted my trophy in tears of joy. The Lumberjack, now beaten, left the Kingdom of Influenza to start a boy band. He named it the Backwood Boys, if I remember right.

I thought my adventure had ended, but I was wrong. During my Barbara Walters interview, just when she was about to make me cry, dancing purple penguins ambushed me. The Lumberjack had been their leader, and now that he was beaten, they wanted revenge. They captured me by shoving me into a one-size-fits-all macaroni and dragged me back to their padded white funhouse.

And that’s the story of how I was committed.

The Gamer Arrives

During college, I had the distinct privilege of meeting some amazingly creative people (you know a few of these folks as the Abquencity authors). One of the coolest and most original guys I came across was my good friend Chris.

He’s one of those dynamic people that you can sit down with, have a conversation about a deeply concerning topic, but then eventually turns it around and has you in stitches by the end. The man is simply thoughtful, intelligent, and wildly funny.

That’s why I’m extremely excited to say that he’ll be joining us here at Abquencity next week.

We were kickin’ back a few weeks ago and talking about our similar creative journeys. Akin to how Abquencity has been a great practice area for us, Chris has been developing his webcomic skills on his site, GameLand, Etc. After a short discussion of our sites’ goals, it seemed like a logical thing to combine efforts.

So to prepare for the arrival of Chris’s fantastic nerd-inspired web comic, I encourage you to check it out from the beginning before his latest strip arrives at Abquencity next week. Click here for a smile.

Saturnine

Colorful experiments after a long hiatus.

Ringed world