[[BLORNSWORTH slumps exhausted against a chair while CRANDIBLE lounges with his feet up.]]

BLORNSWORTH: Whoooffff. I just ate an entire jumbo bag of chips and I do NOT feel good about it
CRANDIBLE: Let me know if THIS makes you feel any better...

CRANDIBLE: Imagine all the loose chips from that jumbo bag.
CRANDIBLE: Now imagine them all mashed up into a SOLID LUMP of salt and carbs.

CRANDIBLE: How BIG would that lump be? ALL the chips in one giant mass?
CRANDIBLE: That's INSIDE you now. That's in your GUTS. That's what YOU put in there.

BLORNSWORTH (despairingly): That does NOT, in fact, make me feel better.
CRANDIBLE: I didn't think it would!

{{header: that dense, thick WONDERMARK.COM}}

But thanks for letting me know!

#1584; In which a Potato is compacted

  — April 8th, 2026

[ Tags: , , ]       Permalink: https://wondermark.com/c/1584/

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Comic Transcripts

[[BLORNSWORTH slumps exhausted against a chair while CRANDIBLE lounges with his feet up.]]

BLORNSWORTH: Whoooffff. I just ate an entire jumbo bag of chips and I do NOT feel good about it
CRANDIBLE: Let me know if THIS makes you feel any better…

CRANDIBLE: Imagine all the loose chips from that jumbo bag.
CRANDIBLE: Now imagine them all mashed up into a SOLID LUMP of salt and carbs.

CRANDIBLE: How BIG would that lump be? ALL the chips in one giant mass?
CRANDIBLE: That’s INSIDE you now. That’s in your GUTS. That’s what YOU put in there.

BLORNSWORTH (despairingly): That does NOT, in fact, make me feel better.
CRANDIBLE: I didn’t think it would!

{{header: that dense, thick WONDERMARK.COM}}

#1584; In which a Potato is compacted transcribed by Comic Transcript AuthorsDavid Malki ! in

Drawing: the vampires of west hollywood

Parking is insane in any major city, but in West Hollywood it’s particularly bad. It’s to the point now where it would actually be cheaper for me to buy a house just to get the residential parking pass, than to pay these constant tickets.

At the curb where I park, my commercial permit (‘I work in the city’) is good only until 7pm, when it becomes residential-only. Presumably, so residents can park in the precious spot I love to occupy. But THERE ARE NO HOUSES ON THIS STREET. And when I inevitably come sprinting, breathless, out to the curb at 7:24, having realized in the middle of a meeting what the clock portends, the street is invariably EMPTY. Save for my lonely little car. Kept company, I suppose, by the little piece of paper fluttering under the wiper.

And then the post office loses my check and I’m liable for late fees to the state. GOVERNMENT CONSPIRACY BLAH


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