On the left, a rosy-cheeked cook, frightened, panting, biting his lips, looking humble as he can be. On the right, his boss, the balding codger who never thinks they work fast enough around here. Around them, a ring of wide-eyed employees acting like there’s no one to serve, like kids, like school is out already. And on the counter, an affront to any cook who styles himself an artist: Boss Rones has slapped the ladle straight out of Cook’s hand, and the proof is all along the marble in driblets of red-orange. Some days it seems like nobody can cook right by the tyrant.
“You…” Cook’s voice trembles. “You can’t rush art.”
Continue reading “[Clipart] Cook by Rones” »
This is a guest post by a friend currently known only as Trish:
It’s the warm-up to the greatest match of the century. Nothing much, just a little show-off game to let the people of Earth know what the new toughest boxer in the galaxy is made of. He is approximately twenty feet long, and he is a worm. His mouth guards are a sight in and of themselves, and the mouth-flesh around them gleams. Taut…tough…veiny. Confident. He doesn’t need boxing gloves to be a champion. And tonight, he’s going to show the universe his personalized retort to the age-old insult “you fight like a worm.”
On one end, Mr. Tommy “The Machine” Gunn swaggers in and pounds his gloves together. From the visiting side wriggles Wormy “The World War” Too, head hanging low with dark confidence. The man behind the worm – rather, the terrifying mouse-man hybrid given new life in some offshoot Rocky sequel – is done toweling off the approximate area wherein the worm’s arms and shoulders would theoretically be.
Continue reading “[Clipart 048] Nervous Worm” »