Tune Up

Tune Up
(different strokes for different folks)

Super Hero

Super Hero

(By Comparison) 

Pretty Birdie

Pretty Birdie

Oil Can

Oil Can

Once upon a time there was a woodsman who chopped down trees in a forest with his axe. He gained no great wealth from this, but it was his livelihood and indeed what he felt he had been created to do. So- as if by compulsion- he set off, each day, to the wood; small axe in hand. His axe was infamously small, much more so than his fellow woodsmen, however it was also infamously precise and effective on trees. In fact this woodsman out preformed all other woodsmen combined each day in spite of the puny nature of his trusty axe. This feat made the other woodsmen very jealous and bitter toward their over-achieving  colleague, and one day they decided to offer him a challenge that they knew would test his mettle. Far to the west there lay a thick and dark forrest that had been overgrown for as long as any of the woodsmen could remember and none of them dare venture off into into this remote place for fear of not coming back. Legends of the most dreadful and debauched creatures were rumored to go about their  devilish business in this forrest. Tales of wanton cannibalism, sadistic torturing and perpetual blood orgies kept enough fear in every man woman and foolhardy child far from this most unholy of places. For they knew that should they enter, their soul would be crushed, their body slowly undone, their mind driven into fear crazed lunacy, and no other person would ever see them again. And so the woodsman, with nothing but an exceptionally small axe and a song in his heart ventured off to this forbidden forest. He did so gladly and with an expectation to inspire his fellow woodsmen to have the courage to face any challenge no matter how high the risk, for he believed that there was no horror so great with which his mind could not handle. The woodsman could now see where his path met the mouth of the forest and was swallowed into the foul blackness of the thick trees. The woodsman tried to imagine the sort of beast that would choose to live in such a dark and rotten place. The creatures his imagination came up with were not comforting and so the woodsman decided that he should try to think of something else, but this was not easy to do.  Thoughts of turning around and giving up came up, but the woodsman convinced himself that he was just being foolish, there was nothing in this woods that he hadn't seen before, he assured himself. Besides, why should he go back? He thought.  The other woodsmen hate him, the maidens want nothing to do with him or his small axe, and all his work goes unnoticed. In a way he felt like this challenge was not a trap set for him, but an escape from the dull drudgery of dealing with the irreverent and ignorant characters of his village. If no one back home wanted to appreciate his labor, perhaps something in this mysterious wood can find use for him, even if it is just for a quick meal. The edge of the forest was now at his feet and without a moment of hesitation the woodsman continued across the threshold and into the brittle underbrush that lurked within.  He was never seen again, but some people think he was raped and eaten by an evil goat- of course those people didn't like him because of the whole axe thing, they probably made that up. The reality was -no doubt- much worse. 

Moral of the story: If life is good, don't go fucking it up by venturing into dark forests 

AcuPunkTure

AcuPunkTure

Per fan request :)

Space Adventure

Space Adventure

Hunting Adventure

Hunting Adventure

Rocket Adventure!

Rocket Adventure 

Home Again...

Home Again

Today Alan came home to see a trap door leading down into the depths of the netherworld on the floor in the middle of his sitting room. This mysterious door was left open and emerging from it was a skinless hellhound which barked fire and drooled asparagus pee. Alan had never in his memory confronted such a nasty beast and was certainly not expecting such an encounter to take place in his own home. As the hellhound snarled and dripped its oozy juices all on the carpet; Alan went through his mental rolodex of emotions searching for what could be an appropriate response to address the current situation. Fear was too obvious an emotion and Alan had experimented with fear all too frequently in his day to day life and was probably what held him back from accomplishing his goals. Sadness seemed like a good way to go and it fit the mood set by being eaten alive by a hellbeast - that is- if one had opted out of going for fear. Why go out on a sad note?- Alan thought. It was at that point that that he became deeply aroused, as if something ignited in his core. Yes, Alan decided that he would hump this hellhound back into the firey dark world that it sprung out of. Then Alan would follow that beast to its home and go on a raping spree of  all the demons and ghouls in its neighborhood so that all of hell would know and fear Alan's mighty shaft. This was a very pleasant thought for Alan to enjoy as the crazed beast approached, Alan loosened his belt, readying himself for the battle that was about to begin. The skinless monster came right up to Alan, then continued walking past him, down the hall, to the washroom, and helped itself to Alan's toilet where it proceeded to quench its thirst and -no doubt- rinse out that asparagus pee taste. Poor guy must have just been thirsty, and he came such a long way. Look at him lap up that water like he had not had a drink in years. The creature seemed to touch Alan's heart and -in a way- bring something to his home that had been missing--company. Alan named the wretched nightmare, Gus, and he dressed Gus up in a furry coat when it got cold outside and Gus ate up all the mean kids in the neighborhood and when there were no more mean kids, Gus ate the nice kids and when there were no more nice kids... well that is a whole nother story for a different time. Needless to say, Gus and Alan had a great life together and it was filled with many adventures. 

Easter Sundae

Easter Sundae

Once a week the houses are all empty and the dwellers have left to gather down the street at a large building and join hands and sing praises to their favorite god or goddess. Mozark found that it was at this time when the empty streets and quiet ally ways called out to him and asked for his company on yet another glorious day that he could share with the whisper of his feet and the earth below him. Today was most disappointing, however, because one of the gatherings of worshipers decided that today was a good day to leave their big building and find more people that would go there with them next week. Mozark pretended not to see them approach and sped up in the opposite direction, but the herd of  smiling heavy-set suit-wearing solicitors shot into full sprint powered by bacon grease, sugar, and song. As it was, Mozark was a creature who would avoid nonsense but he would run from nothing, so the flock finally found themselves face to face with their target. Mozark grinned and nodded his head as the leader of the group went on and on about how amazing the book he held with both hands in front of his own throbbing liver was. He flicked the beads of sweat off his red brow and told Mozark about how this book had magic abilities and would make even the worst person whole and happy. These people were ruining Mozark's quality time with the sky and the grass; he heard the breeze whisper suggestions of homicide so that he would give her his full attention. He knew that destroying these people would be easy, but if he tore them apart life would become more complicated for him. So Mozark reached into the earth and snatched up a fat hairless mole-rabbit that he had heard rumbling below his feet. The heavy-set suit-man stopped talking and his minions gasped in chorus as Mozark held forth the pink-skinned rodent. "My earth-goddess has commanded me to share with you the meaty fruit from her filthy womb" spoke Mozark. "Go ye back to your place of worship and eat of this ground nugget and gain ye all the knowledge and power that the universe has to offer." Without hesitation, the leader of the group dropped his book to the ground and seized the fetid mud hopper. The crowed pranced all the way back to their meeting hall with cheers of rejoice and songs of triumph for they knew that soon they would have all the answers. Mozark watched the people shrink to the horizon and heard the sounds of silence fill his head again. He took up the book that the man had dropped in exchange for the rabbit of knowledge and Mozark tore from it the first twelve pages and rolled from those twelve pages a miraculously tall mound of marijuana cigarettes. He took just one for his walk and left the rest for the next passers by so that they too would feel the vibrations below their feet and power in their hands should they need to find something to distract any obstacle that may come between them and their perfect day.