#208; Guest Comic by Thomas R. Brendel

Comic Transcripts

Title: THE STARS OF WONDERMARK SPEAK OUT ON THE SUBJECT OF THEIR CREATOR

[[A professor sits, reading from a slim volume held in his hand.]]
Professor: I first made the acquaintance of young Master Malki ! when he came under my tutelage at Oxford — Introduction to Mad Biochemistry, as I recall. Frightfully lacking in his dedication to matters of academia. “Malki !, my lad,” I told him on more than one occasion, “if you persist in your obsession with comical engravings when you should be hard at work developing better and more virulent strains of neurotoxin, then I fail to see how you ever hope to inspire fear in the governments of the world.” But some boys just refuse to listen.

[[A woman dressed entirely in black, holding a knife.]]
Woman: WHERE IS HE — LET ME AT THE BASTARD — Next time you try to pay off a jilted lover, David !, you’d best be sure the check don’t bounce. Fool gon’ wish he’d been born without eyeballs, once I gets to stabbin’.

[[A man wearing a sandwich board, which reads: “NO COMMENT”]]

[[A man wearing a porkpie hat, sitting on a bench reading his newspaper. He removes his spectacles.]]
Man: David Malki ! is not an easy man to know. He’s like … like a row which has been filled completely save for a 3 and a 7, but there is not enough information in the surrounding grid to determine which digit should go in which box, a delicate state in which a single misstep could lead to further erroneous assumptions, compounding upon itself until the entire puzzle is rendered unsalvageable. Sometimes I suspect he doesn’t even *like* Sudoku.

#208; Guest Comic by Thomas R. Brendel transcribed by in

Title: THE STARS OF WONDERMARK SPEAK OUT ON THE SUBJECT OF THEIR CREATOR

[[A man wearing a sandwich board, which reads: “NO COMMENT”]]

#208; Guest Comic by Thomas R. Brendel transcribed by in

Title: THE STARS OF WONDERMARK SPEAK OUT ON THE SUBJECT OF THEIR CREATOR

[[A professor sits, reading from a slim volume held in his hand.]]
Professor: I first made the acquaintance of young Master Malki ! when he came under my tutelage at Oxford -- Introduction to Mad Biochemistry, as I recall. Frightfully lacking in his dedication to matters of academia. "Malki !, my lad," I told him on more than one occasion, "if you persist in your obsession with comical engravings when you should be hard at work developing better and more virulent strains of neurotoxin, then I fail to see how you ever hope to inspire fear in the governments of the world." But some boys just refuse to listen.

[[A woman dressed entirely in black, holding a knife.]]
Woman: WHERE IS HE -- LET ME AT THE BASTARD -- Next time you try to pay off a jilted lover, David !, you'd best be sure the check don't bounce. Fool gon' wish he'd been born without eyeballs, once I gets to stabbin'.

[[A man wearing a sandwich board, which reads: "NO COMMENT"]]

[[A man wearing a porkpie hat, sitting on a bench reading his newspaper. He removes his spectacles.]]
Man: David Malki ! is not an easy man to know. He's like ... like a row which has been filled completely save for a 3 and a 7, but there is not enough information in the surrounding grid to determine which digit should go in which box, a delicate state in which a single misstep could lead to further erroneous assumptions, compounding upon itself until the entire puzzle is rendered unsalvageable. Sometimes I suspect he doesn't even *like* Sudoku.