Sunday Comics #32 (Tom)

Here's my final version of the comic I sketched out last week for the stage one theme. It turned exactly how I planned, thus showing the benefit of planning clearly. I planned, then I did the final one, just like in the plan. The plan was executed, so the things in the plan came to pass, just as planned.

I am typing this on Barry's keyboard, and for some reason I find it amazing to type on, I just don't want to stop typing. I simple cannot stop myself, lalalala, this is incredibly entertaining for some reason. I'm in the typing zone, I just don't want to stop typing for some reason, it is just like a whirlwind of typing where everything is just coming out at top speed, undeniable, inexorable, impervious, indivisible, incongruous, indefensible speed.

I guess the only thing for it is to write a poem to commemorate this typing moment.

Ah, yes typing
typing on this computer
pressing buttons
many buttons
each button keyed to a letter of the alphabet
press a sequence of buttons to generate a word
read a word to generate a connotation or denotation
process the meaning to create an idea
and thus I press a button to make you think of something
juicy pear
strong perfume
sandpaper
boogie boarding
simply by pressing a series of buttons I have controlled your mind
like an alien being

OK, one poem down, how about a boring short story?

Once upon a time there was a man. The man liked sandwiches. THe man bought supplies for making sandwiches at the Kroger. Everytime he went to Kroger he bought these things, peanut butter, bread, ham, jelly, mayonaise, cheese, turkey, onions, lettuce, tomato, salt, pepper, you know, sandwich things. All kind of different ingredients to put on a sandwich. Things like almond butter, things like mustard, you know, olives. Anyway, he bought them at Kroger and took them home. On his walk home he passed a dry cleaner, a boutique, a restaurant, a little place for selling stuff, he couldn't remember what, another restaurant, a bead place, a McDonalds, you know buildings and things. There were 12 stairs going up to his apartment, where he lived. He owned a bed and several other pieces of furniture that used to sit on or other purposes. Example of other purposes include writing things on the table, setting things on the table, books on the bookshelf, you get the idea.
Anyway this man's job was to work at a bookstore. His duties included. OK nevermind.

Barry said to leave all this crap in.