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2005-07-15: Out A Pickle
Things are complicated
I spent a lot of time figuring out the best layout for my comics and then I go and ruin it. Now how am I supposed to efficiently collect them into a trade paperback that I can sell for big dollars?
This is a good example of the Automatic method I use to draw my comics... I had no conscious plan from panel to panel when I did it in my sketchbook, yet it all worked out pretty well in the end! Pretty amazing stuff.
Note that Rabid is walking to the telephone, he doesn't run. He's screaming all the way, but he doesn't run. Who runs to answer the phone? People who are too nervous and tense.
This comic is in the storyline:
- Old Comics
The site started with "cleaned up" comics from my old sketchbooks, which go back almost fifteen years. Eventually I ran out and had to come up with new things! That was a terrifying moment.
ViewHide the text transcript of this comic.
[[Rabid, sitting at his kitchen table with a spoon in hand]] Rabid: COULD you KEEP it DOWN in there I'M TRYING TO EAT my meal of BEAN PASTE! [[Dr Quickly and Rabish are in Rabid's pantry. Rabish is carrying a large mallet]] Dr Quickly: Ignore him, dear. Rabish: Ok! [[Rabish brings the mallet down on an object that was not a pickle jar.]] <<SMASH!>> [[Rabish wipes the sweat from her brow.]] Rabish: There has Got To Be a better way to open a pickle jar. Dr Quickly: There is, but you have to learn this way first. Now, grind up the glass... [[Rabish grinds the glass up with a mortar and pestle.]] <<CKSH CKSH>> [[Rabid sits at the kitchen table, waving a spoonful of his dinner about.]] Rabid: Bean paste... [[Rabid stands at the kitchen sink, waving a dish about distractedly.]] Rabid: ...doin' dishes... [[Rabid lies in bed, his head on his pillow and eyes closed.]] Rabid: ... goin' to bed... [[Rabid sits at the kitchen table, placing a spoon full of cereal in his mouth distractedly.]] Rabid: ... eatin' breakfast... [[Rabid's eyes widen in shock, no longer distracted.]] Rabid: ... swallowing... fine grains... of broken glass... in cereal? [[Rabid leaps up in shock, blood cereal and the spoon flying away.]] Rabid: AAAUGH!! [[The phone, in an adjacent room, begins to ring.]] Rabid: YAUUUGH!!! [[Rabid walks into the room, and picks up the phone]] Rabid: AAAUGH!! AAGH!!... hello? [[Dr Quickly is on the other end. Rabish stands beside the doctor, listening in.]] Dr Quickly: Hello there. How is? ... glass, you say? ... Well, pickles are best for that. [[Rabish sneaks into Rabid's pantry.]] Rabish: I'd better go get readier! [[Rabid walks into his pantry and finds Rabish.]] Rabid: Oh! Rabish! You are in my pantry! Could you hand me that pickle jar? [[Rabid unscrews the lid of the pickle jar. Blood drips out of the corner of his mouth.]] Rabid: Un-SCREW! [[Rabid bites a pickle.]] <<CRUNCH>> Rabish: Can I have one too?
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ISSN 1916-6095
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