Monday, March 26, 2007

The Strip #4


The Strip #4, originally uploaded by Dreadnaut Comix.

And yet again, the character version of me looks oddly familiar. What can you do? Strip number four brings up the idea that everyone sucks but me.

The Strip #3


The Strip #3, originally uploaded by Dreadnaut Comix.

Crappily drawn a week before it had a plot and without rulers, episode number three brings up the ethical question - is it okay to cut and paste drawings in Photoshop in order to make sure that the character doesn't look like a goon?

The Strip #2


The Strip #2, originally uploaded by Dreadnaut Comix.

The second installment of punknews.comic! No background info needed, but can you guess who the Bearded Gentleman is? Hint: he's a real person and you probably don't know him but you should.

The Strip #1


The Strip #1, originally uploaded by Dreadnaut Comix.

The first strip of punknews.comic! The concept is lost without back story. This was taken from a news report from Eddy County in one of the Dakotas. The deputy in this photo is describing what an "emo" looks like.

Wednesday, March 21, 2007

The Unfortunate Tale of Jerky McAssface

Despite having an unfortunate name, Jerky McAssface was a normal, regular boy. He enjoyed playing in the dirt, crucifying small animals, and smoking cigarettes in the lavatory when his teacher's weren't around. He never took off his schoolboy uniform which included a shirt, a jacket, a tie, and short pants (as in "back when I was still in short pants). His dreams were to someday be famous. So he made a plan.

After dinner the other night, Jerky McAssface snuck out his window and climbed down the gnarled bare tree branches until his feet hit the soft grass with a perfect gymnast's dismount. His Irish father, the cocksucker that he was, was drunk off of Irish whiskey, still at the dinner table. This is because this story must rely on stereotypes in order to be told in a quick enough fashion. (Jerky's mother died in a horrible plot device and was heard shouting out to Jerky, "I'll always be dead to you so that you have something to mourn in order to give your life purpose in this story!" before her ashes were blown away into the wind, out over the sparkling blue Atlantic Ocean.)


Now as Jerky stumbled down the cobblestone streets of town, he thought to himself about how he might become the most famous. He thought at first, why, of course, Jesus is the most famous man to our Western world. He must become Jesus! But no, that'll never do. One simply can't just become another!

So then, he thought, I must figure out why Jesus was so bleedin' popular. Jerky pored over these thoughts in his head, and came up with a solution. Jesus was famous because he died! The crucification! Of course! But Jesus wasn't just an ordinary bloke. He were famous, that he were. Also, Jerky would like to live through his fame, not burn out as a martyr.

Then, as Jerky skipped past a particularly bright brass spear store, he realized his true calling. Jerky McAssface himself would crucify the Christ! It's so simple! In order to be famous, he'd just have to become the murderer! And he already had the practice, since one of the hobbies that I'd mentioned earlier was crucifying small animals (Funny how that works out, right? A pure coincidence!)

Then some Romans came by and fucked his shit up with some brass spearz, 'cause man, DON'T fuck with the Romans. Killing Jesus was their shit, and they will FUCK you up for bringing that bizz-nass down to the street town, word?

Monday, March 5, 2007

Dreadnaut Episode #8


Dreadnaut Episode #8, originally uploaded by Dreadnaut Comix.

Plot device. Better episodes coming soon.

Dreadnaut Episode #7


Dreadnaut Episode #7, originally uploaded by Dreadnaut Comix.

Notice the lack of outside border around the frames. Usually there's a border. That's all part of the existential experience.

Org Toons #0


Org Toons #0, originally uploaded by Dreadnaut Comix.

A bonus strip that was the demo for punknews.comic. Aren't you glad I made a new one for punknews.org instead of posting this thing?

Things That Go Bump In My Head

There's a noise. There's a noise and my eyes snap open, but it's so dark that I can' t see anything, and I'm in bed, naked, with the sheets up to my bare chest. Or there was a noise. At least I'm pretty sure there was a noise. It was deep, loud, a big WHUMP.

I get out of bed, and the air is cold, dead. The air is empty, lifeless. I know I can't see the bed, or the doorframe just in front of me, but I know that they are there. I can feel everything around me, on my skin cold and clammy. But I can't feel anything. There is nothing there. I know I am staring down the dark hallway from my bedroom into the kitchen, but I know there is nothing there.

I can still hear the noise echoing in my head.

WHUMP.

I know that there has to be something out there, things that go bump in the night. Unmentionables, unknowables. Goblins, critters, faeries and imps. Horrid demons, drug-crazed rapists and sadist murderers.

WHUMP.

I know that there is something at the end of the hallway. It echoes in my mind. I hear my lady stir, still in bed, rolling over. The rustle of the sheets against her own naked body, and then she rubs her knees together safe under the sheet. But my naked body is open, defenseless, standing open in the dead cold air of our apartment with tensed thigh muscles and clenched fists. What is out there?

WHUMP.

It still echoes in my head, thundering one more time before the noise fades and all I can hear is the fan still blowing in the corner, a light whirring. Did anyone else in the building hear it? Is there an uncountable number of duplications - naked men in their twenties standing in their mirrored bedrooms while their lady is still safe in bed, remembering or almost imagining a noise?

A pause.

My own heavy breathing.

No more noise.

I step backwards, shuffle my feet. My knees bump into the bed, and I lift the sheet and crawl under it. My lady shifts to her side, then slides up next to me, naked and warm. I'm so cold her skin feels like liquid fire. She moans a little in her sleep, and closes her eyes again, while I stare up at the blackness where I know there should be a ceiling.

And then.

Was it all in my mind?

Saturday, March 3, 2007

Waiting

He put his pen down on his desk, neatly perpendicular to the ruler, the black permanent marker, and the pencil. He stared at the four straight lines, adjusted them slightly, and then nodded as if to show approval. Then his eyes drifted upwards towards the glowing computer screen.

"I'll wait," he said to himself.

No reason to get all uppity about it, I can just wait until it arrives and then I'll have something to show for it, he thought.

But he waited, and waited another day, and still it did not arrive. He knew it wouldn't, but waited for it anyway, and his pen sat perpendicular to his ruler, his black permanent marker, and his pencil.