My friend called me a fecal wizard as an insult the other day, but I thought it would be a really fantastic mutant power, and I haven’t been able to shut up about how cool it would be, and now he regrets ever saying the words “fecal wizard”, so I win.
That redacted panel is where you get to use your imagination about what happens. The black box is where all the fanfiction happens. (Oh, god, let there be fanfiction of this.)
Thankfully I pick up some strong wireless signals from inside this box.
Anyone interested in forming a shantytown with me?
My attempts to find a day job are fruitless. Want to be neighbors? I can grill a mean barbecue squirrel.
Periods, you no longer impress me. I am bleeding from my nethers, WHATEVER. Try something new, uterus. You make chocolate pudding instead of blood, then we’ll talk.
So, uh, yeah, I’m unemployed now, which means spending most of the day in underwear. I loved my coworkers and the steady paycheck, but I hated the actual work more and more as Tribune started butting in more and more. I’m gonna try to make a living off comics and freelancing alone, but I’m also trying to find a new part time job, which is… challenging.
