Cardboard Rhino

Sunday, November 11, 2012

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.

The Furious Story. Part Two: "I Am the Story"

The next morning, the schoolteacher poured a cup of coffee and returned to his desk. He lifted his pen and began to write.

Once, at a very special moment in time, in a magical land, lived a remarkable person, and he was a...

..wizard. Tall and wise with a musty blue gray cloak and a long white beard.

The schoolteacher paused to contemplate the next sentence, and as he did he noticed something quite remarkable. On the paper, below the words that he had so carefully written, dark shapes were forming by themselves as if guided by an unseen pen.

The shapes formed into letters and the letters into a word and the word was "no!"

The schoolteacher was astonished and a little afraid. He questioned his own judgment. Since the word could not have written itself, perhaps he had written it unconsciously. This, he determined, was the only reasonable explanation. He now took a large gulp of coffee and with a swift stroke, crossed out the word "no."

Again he prepared to write – this time very consciously – but before the point of his pen touched the paper, shapes began to form. He glared at the paper intently, determined to see for certain, whether the writing was his own, but the shapes continued.

This time they formed more letters and more words. "No. He is not a wizard," said the words that formed.

The writer was now completely flabbergasted. He gulped the last of his coffee, slapped his own face to be sure he was fully awake, and put his eyes close to his paper, but the words remained.

The schoolteacher trembled with fear and curiosity. He wondered how it could be that words formed by themselves with no hand in sight. He feared that a ghost had invaded his home. Some spirit of a past resident of the little cottage perhaps. He looked about the room, but saw no evidence of another presence. Still, he called out "Who are you" hoping that the ghost who now haunted him would reveal himself, but there was no reply. No vision or voice to claim credit for the writing.

He became impatient and thrust down the cover of his journal turning to leave, but behind him, he heard the pages of the book flutter, and as he stared down, the shapes again started to form. They formed the words, "I am the story, and I repeat: He is not a wizard."

The Furious Story. Part One: He Began to Write

Not long ago and not very far away, a schoolteacher retired from his work at the school and left the city of his birth to live in a small cottage, on a tiny creek in a dense forest.

He had always loved literature, a subject that he taught with considerable enthusiasm, and it was his life's goal that upon retirement he would write a great story – a tale with excitement and a sense of discovery.

And so, on his very first day at the cottage, right after breakfast, he sat at his desk with a cup of strong coffee and started his literary journey. He opened a notebook and began to write:

Once, at a very special moment in time, in a magical land, lived a remarkable person, and he was a...

he was a...

Curses, said the teacher, I don't know who he is. I don't know what he does. I can't picture him at all!

So the teacher put down his pen, and closed his notebook and decided to go for a walk.

In the woods, he thought, I shall find my inspiration. And so he meandered about the woods all day long, stopping only to eat the bread and cheeses he packed in his knapsack. And when it was dark, he returned to his cottage, too tired to write. He put a log on the fire, turned off the light and went to sleep.

The Furious Story

All I have is the title so far. That's why the story is so angry.

Sunday, November 4, 2012

Sunday Comics #31 (Tom)

Here's my entry for the weekly topic: Stage 1.

Sunday Comix # 31 (Kelly)

Monday, October 29, 2012

Woman using martial arts to reverse the seasons

Sunday Comixz # 30 (Burry)

Sunday Comics #30 (Tom)

Here's a little comic book I made using the folded up single sheet of paper method. It's supposed to be spooky. Here's a link to a giant picture.

Note that the comic must be read a little weirdly due to its original form, so think of each 2 panel chunk as its own page.