Broken Bones Heal and Chicks Dig Scars. Isn’t that the old adage? I remember being a kid so long ago that we had the big G.I. Joe dolls that had dog tags, fuzzy-wuzzy hair, and those weird pre-KungFu grip hands that were supposed to hold a rifle, but looked really stupid. They had scars down one cheek. Everyone my age secretly wanted to have a bike wreck SO bad that you’d get a cool scar like that. Plus, y’know, if it was from a bike wreck, it wouldn’t actually be your fault, so you wouldn’t be in trouble so much and you’d still have the cool scar.
Posts Tagged Kara
I get tickled thinking about a bunch of keyed up adults, showing off their new toys on the drive and POW! After the first paintball goes off, and everyone’s had a nice laugh, and the adrenaline starts to sour in their bloodstreams… then the second shot, then the mayhem.
I don’t know if it’s true everywhere, but around here, it’s the nervous new kids that wind up saying they’re going to be snipers during paintball games. What that means is, they’re going to run to the closest hiding spot behind a wall and they’re going to plink away at anything they see moving. And there will always be those guys who try to take charge and start calling out orders while doing the hand jive like you see cartoon characters do when they’re parodying Schwarzeneggar movies. The problem is that there’s usually more than one of those guys in a team, so the team splits up and the disparate parts wind up shooting at each other at some point.
In case you’re wondering (and I know you’re not, but I like to put SOMETHING here occasionally) I have a little personal experience with this. Back when I was learning what weekends were good for, I did sneak off and learn laser tag and disc golf with a buddy on some weekday excursions before we were expected to turn up for our first games that weekend. Not sporting? Pfeh.
See, this is the sort of thing that happens. I get a sort of pace going, and as things roll along, there’s another idea that pops out of the mix. Suddenly there’s this gag that needs using, just some dumb little thing.
I needed an extra voice when Hunter’s mom came through the store, so I added a random customer to the strip. Customer gets drawn up. Customer gets green hair for no better reason than lots of people have blue or red or purple hair these days. But a couple of days later, I’m driving through town and I see a lady with short green hair. I think, “She looks like a Chia Pet.” And it clicks. So does the un-named customer whose voice I needed in the old strip. I think of a way that he can be nicknamed Chia Pete. And now this character has some kind of life in my head. This is the sort of thing that happens.
A voice takes on shape and color and attitude. Now, he’ll probably have to turn up again. The part of my brain that releases Hubris into the world is getting crowded.