Traffic is a constant source of amazement and lunacy and hatefulness and hilarity- sometimes all at once.
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2374 comics.
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You know the famous movie ‘The Thing”? Any of them, the old one with James Arness, John Carpenter’s version, or the more recent one- they’re all based on an old short story called “Who Goes There?”
After you read that story and then see the way it was handled in the 50’s version of the film, you wonder what the hell Hollywood was thinking… or why they were incapable of thinking.
On the other hand, that movie did really well, so what do I know?
Seems a shame to do all this planning and then have the people upon whom the whole thing hinges drop the ball. Don’t these grunts know how the management team feels about planning sessions?
Lying on the ground protected by three or four pounds of nylon and goose down is not the best way to deal with wukilars, but whattaya gonna do?
As my dad has always pointed out, keeping the covers up to your chin at night prevents the kidnappers from getting you, and not letting your leg hang over the side of the bed means that nothing can grab you by the ankle. And as we all learn from the movies, when the ghosts and monsters are in your room, you pull the covers over your head to protect yourself.
It seems to work. I’ve never been accosted by wukilars, dust bunnies, witches, ghosts, or kidnappers.
Which is odd, when you think about it.
You know how it is… you’re sleeping in a place you’re not accustomed to sleeping in. The sounds happening around you aren’t the sounds that you get at home. They’re wrong noises, and your brain doesn’t put up with wrong noises. At home? The cat can hork up a hairball on your feet and you sleep through it. Your brain knows the cat. Your brain knows the cat’s noises- even the disgusting ones.
But you try sleeping in a hotel. Big comfy four star hotel. The air conditioner makes a whir that’s a half-step off the note that your air conditioner at home makes. And so, you have nightmares about the end of the earth all night long.
Now, I’m not saying that I stayed up all night long, disturbed by having written the preceding ghost story. Far from it. I was sleeping at home. Also, I giggled myself silly when I hit upon “I just peed myself” at the end.
Us guys with little protection on the roof gotta learn that not every hat can serve to keep off the sunburn. Ask the poor dude who shaves his head for the first time, dons a trucker’s cap, and goes to the ballgame that afternoon.
Ouch.
Sorry. Couldn’t stand it. Had to get One… More… Gag out of it.
Ha! You thought it was all done, yesterday. Right? But I got ya, right? Did I get ya?
Also, Urine punchline. Twice. Booyah. And just a few weeks after the big fart joke. We’re going downhill faster than a li’l red wagon, here.
I don’t know if combining the last line of the scary story and the first joke to come after into one comic strip is a good idea or not. Objectively, I mean.
I think it’s great, personally. But as a storyteller (especially in this day and age of comment sections under comics) you realize that you can never accurately predict how the general population is going to respond.
You guys- the ones who come right straight to Hubriscomics.com- probably get it the way I intended. You guys wait, though, ’til this one goes to GoComics.com/hubris, and we’ll see how Non-Hubris-Specific Readers weigh in. That’ll be an acid test.
I guess you can tell we’re getting closer to the end of the campfire story.
Time for someone to sneak up behind all of us and shout “BOO!”
