CON MAN: How was your weekend?
SICK MAN: I was torn into by an illness left over from the plagues of Egypt.
SICK MAN: By day, I lay on the ground moaning and rocking in agony... By night, I stared at the ceiling, willing sleep to come, begging some spirit of rest to glance over my shattered body and, sighing, say "I'll take him." After hours of this I would look at the clock and realize only minutes had passed. Time had lifted its foot from the accelerator and was slowly coasting to a stop. I would be trapped in that pain for a hundred thousand years.
SICK MAN: This, I realized, is what immortality must be like: staring at the clock, waiting for it to tick over, waiting for time to pass and for the sun to rise and things to get better... But it doesn't. And it doesn't. And it doesn't.
SICK MAN: I'm sorry, you were probably just asking to be polite.
CON MAN: Actually I was just trying to distract you while my dog picked your pockets!
{{header: toss and turn at WONDERMARK.COM}}
{{alt-text: the stomach flu is like Nature picking your body's pockets OVER and OVER and OVER again - and not finding anything but VILENESS, but still COMING BACK to TRY AGAIN. Nature is DISGUSTING}}
the stomach flu is like Nature picking your body's pockets OVER and OVER and OVER again - and not finding anything but VILENESS, but still COMING BACK to TRY AGAIN. Nature is DISGUSTING
The computers tell me it was 20 years ago, June 9, 2006, that I arrived in New York for my first-ever comic convention as an exhibitor, MoCCA.
It was an important trip for me, a milestone in what would go on to become my career.
I wrote a little reminiscence on Patreon (free/unlocked) — including a first-since-then reprint of the photocomics I made at the time, documenting the trip!
Read the rest here: [ 20 Years Ago (In Photocomic Form) ]
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