Milking the Diary Cow

Just so long as two robots can't marry each other. That's disgusting.
Leftwing. Rightwing. Richwing. Poorwing. Whitewing. Swingwing.
installation piece
bare room/broken lightbulb/middle floor/bare socket/middle ceiling
"I've got a schoolgirl crush on a schoolboy lush."
Gimme more of Julie4!
"It's not what you are like that I love, it's what you look like."
I am a successful starving artist though not quite hungry.
I'm a successful failing, failed fraud of artistry.
All my beats are dead and buried feats of wizardry.
If one wants to play they must pay a handsome fee
But I went and took a vow of poverty,
Artistically, so now I am free
And to hell with practicality
At least in this here century.
Oh the art feels so lonely
Without you to guide me.
The blind lead blindly
With eyes that flee.
Euripides. You're ripping me
to pieces. And could you please
not trip over all of these
greasy lips or quipping teeth.
I know what myths take, see
they increase and we appease
them equipped with our expertise.
Uneasy tips for disbelief.
Tragedies were slipping free
and the Gods were so displeased
to hear them in a Japanese
breeze whipped by this lonely grief.
Or was it only a leaf?
No one knows they exist,
We are all so helpless.
You can see the sketch marks.
You know what tastes great? Frozen jealousy soaked with tears of joy, with wine and boredom. Served in the palm of the customer's hand. Be seated to one of our finest tables inside the kitchen.
My clock was bitten by a tick and now it's got Time Disease.
The face was written by sick hands and hit a lot. I'm Chinese.
The numbers do quit when I trick bland wit shot with chimes and keys.
Fortune holds me tightly with a grip that could turn water into wine.
But it'll all be fine and they'll burn hotter, wouldn't you agree?
Now give me some of that golden green that holds between what you and me have all but seen this past has been really freeing and I'm not being mean or seeming obscene but I'm not a machine even on Halloween or that time with the trampoline on that submarine in the keen and serene sea. Every routine should have caffeine with a fellow teen wearing aquamarine earrings who has a lien on my mien while I'm clean and lean and use the latrine it should mean, sorry, see the mob's been threatening me with benzene in my tangerine cuisine with bean soup which is good for the spleen.

Innocent Illustration or Degenerate Drawing?

The Peppery Old Colonel

Written by O.M. PILLEAU

Illustrated by GORDON BROWNE

The Quick War

"Just think about it. Graham?" said Ward. "If we pull this off, think of all the good that it'll do. For the League. For New Popolisville!"

"And I'm trying to tell you Ward, that it is far to dangerous to give Super to one of them. The consequences of such an action, gone bad, are enormous. You can't take back what you've given, you know that Ward." Graham Alexander pulled up on the wrench. An awful wrenching sound followed. "Which one would you give it to?"

Ward answered, "You're a man looking for a detail to a plan that will surely prevail! What two greater things good there be in the whole world? I'll tell you at the meeting later tonight. Give you some time to think about it, is all I'm saying." and Ward Reward bounded with extra steps out of Graham Alexander's research lab, almost bowling over Ms. Surefoot, Graham's sidekick. She was returning from the garden, seeing to a study on the effects that diluted Super had on a wide variety of vegetables. The results could have astounding repercussions for grocery markets across the globe. She asked Graham, "What did Ward want?" and he said, "Wants to give Super to a villain."

"Which one?"


Quite a period to be alive in. All the newspapers went and wrote about it. This invention of Super, and all of us heroes coming together. Crime down drastically, citizens up critically. Life would be quite perfect, an ideal deal except for those pesky villains. My question to all of you is, what do we do about them? Uncle Lex? asked Shychick as everyone in the room listened intently.

"My only concern is to the LAW. If they ain't breaking it, couldn't care a bit. Scum is scum, could be dressed in rags, like the Rag Monster, or in a polished suit. The LAW goes beyond all appearances. Could be a hero and they break the LAW, just means I will take you in." The Captain clenched his stern teeth with a firm jaw.

"You still at that GOOD LAW routine? You haven't come to your senses yet?" said Graham as he and Ms. Surefoot strolled through the side door, which creaked like an old western. "Give up on the one true LAW and focus on better laws, sound laws, laws of science!"

Up till that point, apart from Graham and Surefoot, everyone in the Lounge was sitting. Even Gecko Boy, albeit from the ceiling. But if Graham's brother, the GOOD Captain himself, didn't come barreling over the Unbarrelable and if the GOOD Captain didn't have a bent right hook in his eyes.

Graham noticed that his sibling was a little cranky today. "Ms. Surefoot?"

And sure enough, off the cuff, she went and grabbed the Captain's forward momentum and threw him into herself. Those feet danced forever, and then she swung him and spun him all around the room until he tripped back into his ample blue chair. Ms. Surefoot gave a cute little curtsy, even her bosom bowed a bit, before returning to Graham's side.

Lex gave his brother a mild scowl.

Ward walked in the front entrance with a Faceless Robot and trailing behind them was this guy, who's wearing these clothes that shine. This guy had polished his favorite suit just for this debut. He had bought it on Bells Day over in Popolisville. On the same day he got some Super.

And Ward says, "Hello gang, this is the Manmad and we have a proposition for you."


Ward was beaming. Graham left halfway through the presentation. Surefoot stayed. Lex shook his head. The Manmad was juggling. The Drawing Detective didn't doodle the entire time. Shychick was actually weeping. She was also crying on the inside and everyone heard.

Mr. Master had another drink. Gecko Boy fell off the wall at one point. One of the worst effected was the Wary Hero, who threw in his cape and called it a day.


Graham Alexander wondered if Ward was going off the deep end. He seemed to be taking a greater number of risks lately. This latest venture of his though. Giving just a small amount of Super to the lowliest of criminals was absurd enough but to the Time Mime? She was about as crazy as Ward and his mad plan.


The Time Mime woke up that morning with a yawn and a stretch. She had slept in her costume again but she didn't care. She felt so relaxed. As the seconds passed from present and into the past, she slowly noticed how uncomfortable her own dilapidated bed really was. Her pillows seemed to push against her neck at odd angles. Her sheets scratched and her mattress lumped. She finally got up with a sigh, stretched once more and went out for breakfast.

Her real name was Lily Quick and she acquired her powers the old-fashioned way. She had stolen them. Clueless military higher-ups with access to cutting edge scientific research were her bread and butter. They called it the Tock Tick Ray and when she used it on herself a few years back, there was no hesitation. The white coats and glasses had only tested it on lab animals so they never got a chance to see what it could do to a human being. She destroyed the paperwork, sabotaged the machine and framed the hapless military man with whom she was seeing that week. The project was scrapped shortly thereafter.

Lily learned pantomime when she was younger and from her father, a stage performer, who taught her how to focus and move. The thieving she got from her mother. Imbued with the fabric of time and controlled through significant gestures over her face and body, Lily Quick turned out to be quite the criminal mastermind, although at the moment all she wanted were some waffles.

Up ahead, in the park across from her building, a man was standing without motion and around him there had gathered a crowd of people, laughing hysterically. Lily saddled over and watched as a small boy rolled on the ground, belly shaking. A policeman tittered. A couple snickered. The man in the middle was dressed the same as Lily, mimed right out. And he just stood there, doing nothing. The people laughed harder with greater rolling, tittering and snickering. Was that a guffaw? The less he performed, the more the crowd warmed to the man, with curls of mirth thrown before him and the longer the charade continued the more compelled Lily was to think the man a hack. The crowd, imbeciles.

Then the man, the mime in the middle, walked up to Lily and gave her his card. It was blank and while she might have thrown the thing on the ground, for the first time in her life she felt utterly baffled as to what to do next. Why would she keep a blank card from this mockery of a buffoon? Why did she need this thing? She wanted to hurry this travesty up, wished to be on with it. She felt dizzy and timeless and her eyes went wide and then WHEN happened.