Click on the final image for a larger view!

“What…what the fuck was that, man. Jesus fuck, Paul. What the hell have we gotten ourselves into?” It’s the first time Bob’s talked since they left the restaurant. Paul just keeps driving, not knowing how to reply. “You ever hear about his dogs, man? I should’ve known. I should’ve fucking known this crazy ass shit would go down if we hung around that crazy motherfucker long enough! Fuck me!”

“What about his dogs?” asks Paul, still paying attention to the road but even more attention to his rearview mirrors, seeing that Earl’s still following them.

“His step-brother Jason was telling me about this shit a while back. See, he had this mutt, I don’t know what kind of mix, and one day it bit him. So he gets up, pulls out a .22 and shoots it.”

“Fuck.”

“Yeah, but it doesn’t die. It just stands there kind of dazed, so Earl starts shooting it, empties the clip on the poor creature. Still not fucking dead. So he pops in another clip and finally kills it. Twenty three bullets he put in the god damned dog, Paul.”

“What the fuck…”

“Yeah, but see he gets another dog, raises it from a pup. Has it for two years, and it bites him. So he pulls out a .45 this time and shoots it in his backyard, with the neighbor’s kids standing there watching.”

“Motherfuck.”

“Thirteen shots this time. Jason was telling me the dog’s tail was wagging the whole time, staring up at Earl with those big dog eyes.”

“We gotta get away from these psychos, Bob. We need to go to the cops.”

“If we pull off the road now they will follow us and they will kill us, Paul. Let’s be cool and once we get a chance, then we tear the fuck out of here.”

“Looks like they’re signaling to exit now.”

“Go with the flow, man. Just be cool.” Bob and Paul pull into the gas station off 50 highway with Earl’s car behind them. They get out of their car and walk over to Earl’s.

Earl gets out of the car, trying to look tough. Paul knows that Earl’s not trying to cover up being scared, he’s just trying to look like someone from a rap video. What the fuck? “Earl, man, where the hell are we going?”

“To my uncle’s old house. Far as I know it’s been sitting vacant since he died. We can hole up there until the cops move on.” You shot a pregnant teenager in the belly, dipshit. Do you really think they’re going to let this drop, thinks Paul. “Right now I need some smokes and some papers, though, so if you gentlemen don’t mind…”

“Go right on ahead, boss.” Paul leans against the car next to Bob. One of Earl’s hanger’s on stays with them, smoking a cigarette.

They stand out there for longer than the purchase should take. No one of the three of them says a word, though, the discomfort in the air palpable. As Earl’s man lights up his second smoke, the silence is broken by a quick succession of gunshots. Earl and his men come strolling out of the station, each carrying a case of beer. “Let’s get the fuck out of here,” Earl calmly says as he walks past Paul. Not in an ‘Oh god, let’s hurry’ sort of way, but in a ‘This place is boring me to tears way’.

“Where’s your uncle’s place at again?” Paul asks, trying to keep his composure.

“Batesville.”

* Friday night, get together with my brothers Jim and Jesse to have a few drinks and see Jim before he ships off for the Navy on Tuesday.

* Saturday day, go over to Brandon's to see the baby.

* Saturday night, have fun at Katy's birthday party.

* Relax with Katy on Sunday and get some painting and comix done.

Instead, all of the following and more happened:

Friday:

* Nearly got into several physical altercations

* Had a very strange sort of family reunion

* Had a very strange sort of high school reunion

* Heard the following line, "Yeah, last night I did a bunch of coke and had an orgy!"

* Found myself in a scene from Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, but not in any sort of enjoyable way

* Chased off by a rent-a-cop

* Saw something that can never be unseen

* Didn't get home until 5AM

Saturday:

* Slept all day

* Almost came to blows after verbally assaulting a prick security guard at Voodoo Lounge

* Comforting a crying Katy in the smoke-filled hallways of Harrahs because half our group wasn't allowed into her birthday party

* Switching location to Westport, which led to:

Sunday:

* Spent the day at the hospital with one of Katy's friends following a very serious and heinous event.

We're both just totally fucking shellshocked from everything that happened, especially the events that led to our Sunday. I seriously feel like I did after the bank robberies. Not good at all, folks.

* Friday night I took Katy out for her birthday dinner. We went to the River Market Brewery and then went with friends to Westport to sit on a deck and enjoy the great weather.

* Saturday morning we had breakfast with my parents at Corner Cafe and then Katy and I headed out to Columbia to participate in the party unveiling the poster for Columbia's Festival of the Arts. We finished up there and then had late dinner at Murry's.

* Sunday we had birthday breakfast with Katy's family at a place whose name I forget but they had a giant Chester Gould original Dick Tracy drawing hanging up on the wall that totally ruled. We headed back to town, took a nap, and then watched Summerslam with friends.

* Monday I was so drained by my schedule and the hectic weekend that I stayed home from work and mostly slept.

* Which brings us to the most exciting news of the week:

I've known Brandon Moore since 1985 and we've been best friends since 1989. In the Summer between third and fourth grade Brandon discovered he had tumors in his right arm and along his spine. The doctors told him that if he lived past age twelve he'd be paralyzed. Heady stuff for a nine year old kid to hear, but he took it in stride. I even remember in fourth grade for Show and Tell he walked from desk to desk letting kids feel the tumors in his arm.

So 1992 came, we were in sixth grade, and Brandon was twelve and not dead or paralyzed and in overall good health. Well, except for the time he projectile vomited on the girl sitting across from him in class. But at that age his doctors told him that at age sixteen he'd be either dead or paralyzed.

So at age sixteen Brandon comes to pick me up in his dad's truck and we go to Hobby Lobby to pick up some supplies. Other than the fact that he left it in neutral and the truck coasted down the parking lot here he was, still not dead, still not paralyzed. His doctors told him he'd never have a kid, and would be dead or paralyzed by twenty one.

Let me digress for a moment here and tell you about Nazareth. Every time Brandon calls me and 'Love Hurts' is playing in the background, I know what's up. See, every time he's been dumped by a girl, he gets home, turns on the radio, and without fail that song is playing. Absolute truth.

Flash forward, Brandon's twenty-first birthday has come and gone, still not dead, still not paralyzed, and the doctors have told him "Enjoy life." I got to stand up with him at his wedding to the really great Robin, who brought with her Ashley, the cutest little step-daughter a guy could ever have. I did make sure to have 'Love Hurts' playing on the juke box for the rehearsal dinner, though.

Which brings us to a call I got yesterday morning, with Brandon sounding exasperated and tired and excited and glowing, leaving me a message that Tristan Moore slid on home in the wee hours of Tuesday morning. Sometimes it's really great when doctors are wrong, isn't it?

Welcome to the world, little buddy. Your dad's a goober, but he's fun to have around and I think you'll do just fine.

EDIT: Here's the video of the little guy's entry to Earth:

Click to see a larger version of the finished painting! Happy birthday Lovely!

Andrew doesn’t do lunch. He’s more a fan of big breakfasts and good dinners. If he does eat anything for a mid-day meal it will be during a lunch meeting, which he can normally avoid by sending someone else in his place. It’s not that he has anything against lunches, it’s just that it’s not his thing. He does normally have a tea in the middle of the day, though. He quit coffee a few years back by doctor’s orders, following his first heart attack. He replaced the coffee with green tea, which he drinks all day long. He’s in the break room filling up his mug where he runs into one of his writers.

“Hey Bryan, I need to see you in my office when you’ve got time,” Andrew says while pouring hot water into his radio pledge-drive mug from the coffeemaker.

“I can come in now, if you’d like. I was just taking a rest before I call up Raytown’s police department,” Bryan replies while washing his fork in the sink. Andrew doesn’t see any plates or food sitting around and figures that Bryan was eating at his desk again. “I wanted to get a few quotes from them about the restaurant shooting.”

“How’s that developing?” Andrew asks as they walk through the cube farm back to his office.

“It’s awful, man. The hospital says the girl lost her baby and may be crippled. Just awful.”

“That’s the world we live in, B.” They step into the office and Andrew walks behind his desk and takes a seat. Bryan sits in one of the uncomfortable chairs opposite, still holding his fork. “Anyway, I need you to do a write-up on the mayor’s office.”

“The gay thing again?” Bryan asks, sounding worn out by the idea. Rightfully so, too. This will be the tenth story he’s had to do on the fact that Kansas City’s mayor Alex Hannigan is gay. “Woodford’s really got a hard-on for this, doesn’t he?”

“Fuck Woodford. I want you to do a cover feature on the credit crunch and what the city’s doing about it. Hannigan’s having a press conference about it tomorrow at ten. I’ve got an interview for you with him afterwards.”

“Any idea on what he’s putting forth?”

“The rumor is that they’re putting a freeze on foreclosures.”

“No shit? How in the hell are they going to afford that?”

Andrew looks through some of the memos on his desk. “Beats me. That’s your job to find out.”

Bryan taps his fork on his knee. “You mean I actually get to, like, do investigative journalism?”

“I’m just fucking with you, B. I need another story on how Hannigan takes it up the ass.”

Bryan just stares at Andrew, then shakes his head while he stands up. He taps his fork on the palm of his left hand. “He’s ruining this paper, Andrew.”

The news editor doesn’t respond. He doesn’t have to.

Click the link above to see the inspiration for this week's scene!

I've been a fan of Dave Lapham going back to Stray Bullets, which happens to be one of my all-time favorite books. I make a point to pick up anything he does, and that led me to this book.

Taking the writing reins and, I think, layout duty, Lapham with artist Ramon Bachs delivers a great Batman story rooted in the best of film noir. The title of the story, City of Crime, evokes the classic film The Naked City, and the storytelling follows in that great film's footsteps as well, showing several stories from the underside of Gotham City and how they all tie into Batman's investigation of a missing pregnant teenager. The case brings in classic Batman villains The Penguin, Mr Freeze, and The Ventriloquist, as well as introducing the ominous new threat of The Body while keeping its focus on the citizens of Gotham and how they become affected, and in some cases infected, by the brutal nature of the city.

This is a dense story and it demands you give it your full attention. Lots of little details become full-blown story points as it unfolds and Bachs' lush art contains lots of buried treasures as well. I found this very rewarding as a complete story. My only real gripe is that no motivation for The Body was given that I was able to pick up on, other than the implication that the 'Head' for The Body was Gotham itself, which I found to be satisfying enough for me.

* I just got word that I'll have another gallery show in December featuring my vintage album recreations. This will be at a new gallery opening up in the heart of the Crossroads district and I really couldn't be more excited. More on this as it develops.

* I'm rereading Brubaker's run on Catwoman right now. Man, that's a great book, isn't it? At least, it starts off that way. It sort of lost its steam following the road trip arc. Paul Gulacy got a lot of the blame for that, but I wonder how much of it was Brubaker starting to get worn out with his DC contract? This was his first high-profile book as a 'name' author, and it has that feel to it. It's not as fantastic as his Daredevil or Captain America stuff, but you can see a lot of what was to come in these pages. Either way, I'm tackling Gotham Central next.

* I mean, I gotta do SOMETHING to keep myself sane at the day job, right? Yes, folks, this is what people at call centers do to keep themselves from cussing your ignorant asses out on every single call. Except you, you don't have an ignorant ass.

* My dog poo business is getting launched this week in earnest. Fingers crossed that this crap will get me out of my day job.

* Too Soon continues apace. The book takes some really interesting turns as it goes along and I'm excited for y'all to read it.

* I need to get more Batesville written soon, too.

* I'm also starting to plot out the next graphic novel, tentatively entitled 'Too of a Kind'. Seeing a pattern with the titles yet?

* Actual quote from one of the announcers for Olympic Men's Volleyball: "He should be smothering those balls by now."

* Katy's birthday is Sunday. Wish her a happy one, huh? I'm so excited that she's going to be of legal age now!

* Want to read her nationally covered story about a forgotten underground city? Here it is in its entirety!

* Here's the painting I'm doing for her birthday. I just started it last night:

Vinnie never brings his lunch. He’s gotten fairly notorious for it after all of the years he’s worked at the bank actually, mostly due to the fact that he eats the same thing every day. Every single day. He goes to the Mexican-inspired fast food restaurant down the street and they don’t even need to ask him what he wants. Two bean burritos, no hot sauce, and no drink. He picks it up from the drive-thru, makes the same flirty jokes with the girls working the window that he makes every day, making them giggle every day, and then he takes the spoils of his conquest back to the bank to devour.

Normally Vinnie eats in the break room and reads whatever mystery thriller he’s reading that month, intermittently chatting with his coworkers. Today though he stops at the park to eat instead. He sits in his car eating his burritos while listening to some Paul Oakenfold, then gets out to walk around and enjoy the day. Vinnie loves the smell in the air when it’s about to rain, and has ever since he was a little kid. He walks around until it starts to sprinkle and heads back to the bank.

He’s back a little early and as he walks through the lobby one of the tellers stops him with an urgent look on her face. “Hey Vinnie, that couple there needs a notary.”

“I’m on lunch still,” he responds, knowing there’s no point in debating the point, merely making a brief moment that he can talk with this teller, this girl of his dreams.

“Laura’s out for lunch, too, and Sandy’s with another customer. Just clock back in early, huh?”

“A’ight,” winks Vinnie, conceding the argument. He quickly goes back to punch his timecard and heads back to his desk where the teller has already seated the elderly couple. Vinnie recognizes the couple, although he’s sure he’s never helped them before. They normally come in to deal with his boss Sandy, once every six months or so.

“Can you help us with some notary work?” asks the woman, a very sweet smile on her face. Vinnie’s not sure, but it sounds like a European accent in her voice. German maybe?

“Yeah, I’m your man. How can I help you out?” he asks with a warm and inviting face.

“We’ve just got this form we have to fill out twice a year. Do you have a pen we can use?” Definitely not German, but it’s similar. Vinnie just can’t place it.

“I surely do. It’s a five dollar fee for a pen service, though,” he says with a totally straight face.

“Only five?” chuckles the woman. Polish. She’s got a Polish accent.

“It’s ten for non-customers.”

“What a steal!” she exclaims, throwing her arms up in the air. Does this old woman have a tattoo? wonders Vinnie. He swears he saw one on her arm.

“I know. I was telling the bank’s president just the other day that we need to keep up with inflation.”

“Or drop the fee altogether.”

“One of the two!”

The woman smiles at him, taking the pen. She pulls the document from her purse and sets it down on Vinnie’s desk. She says something in another language, definitely Polish, to her husband, and he signs. She signs as well, turns around the documents and slides it over to Vinnie. “Does anyone ever fall for that?”

“The pen fee? Yeah, actually I had one lady put an extra five dollars on the check she wrote out for her CD. I couldn’t believe it at the time!” Vinnie and the woman laugh while her husband looks on blankly. Vinnie looks down at the document and is frozen. It’s from the nation of Deutscheland, what America calls Germany, and in English at the top it reads ‘Holocaust Survivor Reparations’, and then goes on to mention Auschwitz and has both of the couple’s names listed. The woman hands over their driver’s licenses so that he can verify their identities, and yeah, it’s definitely them. What are the damn chances that in one day he finds out that one long-term customer freed Auschwitz and another couple of regular customers are concentration camp survivors? He signs the document in the notary section, affixes his stamp, and hands it back to the couple.

“What do we owe you, sir?”

“Besides the pen fee, there’s no charge.”

“Bill our account, would you?” the woman says as she and her husband stand up. She offers her hand to shake and Vinnie takes it, unable but to help but look down at her forearm.

“I sure will,” he says with a smile. “Thanks for coming in.”

I originally called this 'Panda Law' when I came up with the concept back in 1994, but as I continued to study the Chinese Zodiac over the years I became fascinated by the legends behind why the cat is not included in the Zodiac. The story is that a guy buys a sword at a swap meet and discovers that it is mystical in origin and whoever owns it is tasked with hunting down the various animal spirits of the Chinese Zodiac. I would build up each of the spirits and the people that they possess in association with the personality types for people who fall under each sign. Some would ally and some would be enemies in their own rights, and all of it would be in relation with the Cat Spirit and the truth behind why it was not part of the Animal Zodiac.

Update: The story's getting carried on CNN now. Way to go Katy!