Comics (38)
Mindless Chit-Chat
One panel comics done right! Kind of like what Gary Larson would've done if he could've. #14
No Pants Dance
This is what happens when you don't censor your own work and you're not quite "stable". #22
Tragic Headbutt
More comics to make you enjoy yourself... In bizarre and unusual (but tasteful) ways, mmmmm...#2
Writings (76)
Recent: Creator Writings (76) | Member Writings (8)
Home of the Dead (The Villa de Soupo Dejour)
1922-1993 | 0 comments
...and after an harrowing departure from the Munich areas, 1922-1993 and the dear old Finch-nasty (that's me) hit the beaches of Santardomo more naked than a pack of gum. 1922-1993 lay in the sandberry bogs, with my eyes up his ass, with the tits on my mind. I erected a voodoo doll, constructed of materials ranging from seashells, to cheese fries, to homemade shitlogs. Some beautiful Italian creature crawled up to the towel, pulled five sausages out of her international throats and ran up the ...
Drivers Test
Shitwincer | 0 comments
Hello. This is the operator. You know person who answers when you dial 411. Some people call me smooth. Anyways, the matrix told me you passed your automotive wizardry test, so a humble feliz cumpleanos is in order. Cue the magic and mystery! There maybe black pullets dancing followed by a questionably caulky loaf with icing like bird droppings in a sad cardboard box also. I have sent 3 mail order mariachis, which should be arriving shortly. Hopefully they do their job; I kind of got the idea from ...
Dear Johnny #2
Mullanaphy! | 3 comments
As most of the world probably already knows I used to have an ungoing help article section to help out troubled youths with their problems. Much like Dear Abby but actually useful. Heres an example, more to come! / Dear Johnny, / I've been having a serious problem. Everywhere I go, people want to know, who I am, so I must tell them. It gets very very annoying to have to constantly tell them. What should I do? Please suggest suicide. / Signed Depressed in NJ / Dear Depressed in NJ, / Sure ...
Some Kind of Hero
Lash Leroux | 2 comments
She thanked me, threw her arms around me, and called me a hero. / No one had ever called me a hero before. I certainly didn't have the credentials I assumed most heroes possessed. My only memory of middle school is the time I sharted in Home Ec. I had to think fast and spent the last thirty minutes of class sewing my shorts into pants. Needless to say, I was suspended for two weeks. High school wasn't much better. I was voted "Most Likely to Spit in Someone's Food" in my ...
The Smell of All Fear
One Armed Ninja | 4 comments
His rotten teeth makes his sick mouth look like a zipper. Each time it unzips the horrors of my childhood come rushing back. I've been watching this nasty bag of filth for about an hour now... still holding the first beer of the night. The site of his discolored mouth rocks smashing bar peanuts into pulp is enough to make Arnold give birth... again. / Well, I can't let that happen, because it is I who am pregant... with rage, and I'm going into labor. One swing at the bar ...
Apartment 3B
Buttermilk Baby | 1 comment
His leg twitched slightly and he ran his tongue across the cloven surface of his upper lip. He blinked once or twice and continued to lay there. Motionless. Basking in the warm, ruby glow of the neon light from across the alley. It was the nightlight banner to the Chinese food restaurant, mere feet from his window; the "Harvest Moon." The light massively plagued all the "B" apartments on floors one through four. It would have cut a normal soul to shreds, but there was never anything ...
The Fight Before Christmas (Part 1)
Cardboard Warmachine | 0 comments
Twas the night before Christmas / and twas nary a sound / save for Santa's derision / as he spat on the ground. / His fat ass was tied / with great skill to a chair / as he stared down the muzzle / of a kodiak bear. / The beast on a chain / was held back by a man / with a patch on his eye / and a gun in his hand. / Aside from this villian / stood two other men, / a short one in workboots; / with a pad and a pen / The other stood tall / with a boxcutter knife, / waving a picture / of Santa ...
All we are is crust in the wind
ill blitz in your mouth | 6 comments
I wake up to a luscious biscuit roasting in my toilet, i forgot to flush last night. out from my bathroom also known as the little town of richard scary a horrific smell lurks into to my presence a sent so distinguished so graceful it made my lips chap on contact and there is nothing better. i walk into my bathroom to find a well sculpted beach chillin in my toilet i swear the was a shell in there i flush my art work down the toilet like i do about 4 to 5 times every day after that i proceed to sleep on ...