Sunday, January 31, 2010 Contest

I'm entering a contest for my novel opening. Five hundred words. Deadline is tonight. Check it out if you have a novel you'd like looked at, well at least the beginning. Contest link.

Friday, January 29, 2010

From the Archives: Post-Apocalyptic Animal Superheroes

These were some character designs from a ways back. The story was about post-apocalyptic animal superheroes
(say that 5 times fast)

I had a lot of fun with this one. Maybe if I can find some extra time, I'll start writing a graphic novel around this. You never know.

Thursday, January 28, 2010

From the Archives: Moo

A page out of a recent sketchbook:

Something tells me that Bessie has delusions of grandeur. I think she's planning on conquering Europe. She'd better be careful though; she might end up exiled on an island somewhere.

Tuesday, January 12, 2010

Bee the Butt

“I thought it couldn’t get any worse. [Ugh.]”
“Well that really isn’t the point, is it.”
“What do you mean? [Urg.] Isn’t this clearly worse? [Humph.]”
“Yes and no.”
“If you desired something different than what the universe is giving you . . .”
“Then yes it is worse.”
“But if you can come to a place of acceptance.”
[Huff. Huff. Huff.]
“If you can simply be in the moment . . .”
“And not desire or want things to be different. . .”
[Huff. Huff. Huff.]
“Then no, it’s not worse. It just is.”
“Hah! Your full of [huff] it.”
“Yeah. [Huff] One hundred percent bull.”
“Now please, help me pull my antennae out from under this big fat human’s butt.”
“We’ll alright, but couldn’t you just try?”
“Try what?”
“To be one with the butt.”
“Arghh! You be the butt! Just sting ‘em already.”

Saturday, January 2, 2010

Getting Verse

Can it get any worse?

by Rick Walton

“Can it get any worse?”

said the man to his wife.

“Our neighbor’s been bugging us

all of our life.

He’s constantly preaching.

Won’t leave me alone!

And now he is building

A ship on his own.

He’s constantly pounding.

Inceccesantly sawing.

And what’s with the animals

Roaring and pawing?

That old man is crazy.

That old man’s insane.

Maybe he’ll stop,

Now It’s starting to rain.”

“Can it get any worse?”

said the man from his seat.

He leaned back and propped up

his extra large feet.

“The staging is awful.

The playwright’s no good.

The actors all seem like

they’re made out of wood.

I’ve a nation to run.

Yet I just sit here, bored.

What could be worse.

than a play at the Ford?”

“Can it get any worse?”

said the man to his wife.

“I have seen nothing like it

in all of my life

The food is substandard.

The music, mundane.

Our suite is a closet.

The d├ęcor is plain.

The rabble are wretched.

Their children are manic.

I expected much more

From this new ship Titanic.”