Boy, it really doesn't look very good. But I guess now at least I can say I posted something...
Breaking Nose
There has been a rash of senior portraits lately. That's right a rash, and I figured I'd cause a little agitation of my own. So...
Boy, it really doesn't look very good. But I guess now at least I can say I posted something...
Boy, it really doesn't look very good. But I guess now at least I can say I posted something...
Another Story
Meanwhile, in Dublin...
Somewhere an old smoky piano jingle jangles out a bright melody that dims helplessly among damp wooden beams of a cellar pub devastated by the growling darkness that inhabits it. In a dark corner enclave we join our heros huddled close together over a tiny booth table. The burly men stare across the shadows at each other through beady eyes under black fedora caps. The man on the right slides a manilla envelope across the table to the other who hastily draws a pair of glasses from his coat and rests them on his nose. He looks at the envelope. Marked on it's face is a bright red stamp reading "Super-Duper Classified". The man looks back at his companion.
"The latest intelligence we have" he says. "The President is hoping to bury some of the criticism about civilian deaths." Glasses nods and opens the envelope. He pulls out a thin sheet of paper.
"What is this?" He gestures to the paper. It is covered in crude drawings.
"We found it in Al Bara's day planner stuffed under his sofa. it's obviously plans for an attack on American airbases in Yemen."
"I see."
"We think he has been in contact with his brother, there. We've been monitoring his calls, they talked twice last month. Mostly about a wedding, but it could be code. They mentioned airplanes."
"They're working together?"
"Yes"
"What do you need me to do? Am I going to Yemen?"
"No, we've got that under control. His nephew is getting married tomorrow. We have drones armed already. The President wants to try out some new missiles with the latest in facial recognition software. We've updated our eyebrow technology to take into account different lighting situations."
"Good"
"Our theoretic accuracy is unprecedented, but we're also loading more ordinance in case we miss."
"Of course." Glasses nods.
"We'll hit Bara's brother at the wedding party. Don't worry about that. What we need you to do is plant a story in the London Times. Show the reporter this," he points at the paper," but don't let them publish it."
"Anonymous?"
"Of course. We'll make sure the AP in the US picks it up. The New York Times has already agreed to run the story on Al Bara'."
"Yes Sir."
"Say something about the new weapons, more accurate than ever. How they cut down the collateral damage."
"Yes sir"
"You're our best field agent out here. We're counting on you."
They touch hands.
Somewhere an old smoky piano jingle jangles out a bright melody that dims helplessly among damp wooden beams of a cellar pub devastated by the growling darkness that inhabits it. In a dark corner enclave we join our heros huddled close together over a tiny booth table. The burly men stare across the shadows at each other through beady eyes under black fedora caps. The man on the right slides a manilla envelope across the table to the other who hastily draws a pair of glasses from his coat and rests them on his nose. He looks at the envelope. Marked on it's face is a bright red stamp reading "Super-Duper Classified". The man looks back at his companion.
"The latest intelligence we have" he says. "The President is hoping to bury some of the criticism about civilian deaths." Glasses nods and opens the envelope. He pulls out a thin sheet of paper.
"What is this?" He gestures to the paper. It is covered in crude drawings.
"We found it in Al Bara's day planner stuffed under his sofa. it's obviously plans for an attack on American airbases in Yemen."
"I see."
"We think he has been in contact with his brother, there. We've been monitoring his calls, they talked twice last month. Mostly about a wedding, but it could be code. They mentioned airplanes."
"They're working together?"
"Yes"
"What do you need me to do? Am I going to Yemen?"
"No, we've got that under control. His nephew is getting married tomorrow. We have drones armed already. The President wants to try out some new missiles with the latest in facial recognition software. We've updated our eyebrow technology to take into account different lighting situations."
"Good"
"Our theoretic accuracy is unprecedented, but we're also loading more ordinance in case we miss."
"Of course." Glasses nods.
"We'll hit Bara's brother at the wedding party. Don't worry about that. What we need you to do is plant a story in the London Times. Show the reporter this," he points at the paper," but don't let them publish it."
"Anonymous?"
"Of course. We'll make sure the AP in the US picks it up. The New York Times has already agreed to run the story on Al Bara'."
"Yes Sir."
"Say something about the new weapons, more accurate than ever. How they cut down the collateral damage."
"Yes sir"
"You're our best field agent out here. We're counting on you."
They touch hands.
Re:Post Fashion
This is my finished fashion illustration. I wasn't happy with the way the first version I posted looked to I went back and tweaked some things out. The .jpg really takes a lot away from it unfortunately but at least the colors are looking better than before.
Let me know what you think.
Let me know what you think.
Story for Megacon
Hey, this is the story I'm thinking about using for the Megacon Comic. Let me know what you think.
Meanwhile...
"You see, my poor stupid children are all in shambles for this meeting", her voice elongated the ends of her sentences so that they trailed off into a low droning kind of sound. "The twins, as you see, are just dreadful for any type of conversation and my eldest son, Robert, just in from his gallivanting about town, is barely presentable." She was holding her hand up in the air to communicate her lazy bewilderment and froze that way for a moment. Then, as if suddenly realizing he was sitting a few feet away turned and addressed her eldest for the first time since his entering the room.
"Robert, you're wearing that dreadful sweater again. Those savage stripes. You know, Robert, there is a reason we took their land away. The filthy things." She smiled reassuringly at the room. Robert sat very still and stared at his plate. His face darkened with every word.
"My son Robert, you know, is a... well it just wouldn't do to say. He's an embarrassment to the family." She looked back at Robert maniacally compared to her prior languid demeanor.
"Is that what you wear when you go out trolling for men, Robert? Trying to muck up some low life degenerate in Arizona's road places. Is that what you do, Robert, when you go out?" She stopped and looked back at the guests. Everything was silent. She took a moment to puzzle over them. The twins, a boy and a girl, whispered into each others ears and the girl prodded the visitor sitting next to him and it prodded back playfully, each party trying to keep the secret thumb war safely out of sight. She considered them; their bodies made of glowing, whirling particles and their spindly arms with spindly fingers touching everything; touching her china.
"I'm not sure why Benny, the President, asked me to host you tonight." She began again. "Me and Debra, the first lady, are old friends you know, since primary school, and we aren't unaccustomed to hosting..." she paused momentarily, waiting for the word to come to her,"...important guests, diplomats and their wives and such." She reached for her wine glass.
"Where are you from exactly?"
One of the things began to glow brightly and it's body filled with swirling reds and yellows. Everybody stared for a moment. She exaggeratedly swallowed a tiny sip of wine.
"Well! That's very interesting." She said and looked down at her hands in her lap. The corners of her mouth began to scrunch and wobble ever so slightly and a tear formed and rolled down her cheek.
The boy tried to sneak an au-gratin potato from Robert's fine china plate.
"Don't touch my food you stupid lard!!!" Robert shrieked and tried to grab him but the boy rolled under his arms and got away. The girl sent a spoonful of cheesy potatoes flying across the table and the guests on the other side returned fire with a hail of asparagus javelins. The guests glowed with jovial, dancing lights and began flying around the room as the children chased them with handfuls fresh garden salad, which fell like confetti as they hurled it in the air. Everyone was shouting and maids rushed in to catch the children. Their mother sat staring at her hands.
The doorbell rang and one of the calmer guests, seeing that no one had gotten up to answer the door, went to see who rang the bell. He wandered smoothly down a long hall to the foyer and opened the door. Outside an Arizona Patrolman stood a few feet back from the stoop. His eyes lit up when he saw the strange thing in the doorway.
"Hi there, muchacho." He smiled," You don look like yer from around here." The Sheriff reached for his belt and pulled out his night-stick.
"Now, I'm gonna need to see yer papers, please"
[end]
I also have some other stuff to post, art stuffs. So that will go up soon.
Peace.
Meanwhile...
"You see, my poor stupid children are all in shambles for this meeting", her voice elongated the ends of her sentences so that they trailed off into a low droning kind of sound. "The twins, as you see, are just dreadful for any type of conversation and my eldest son, Robert, just in from his gallivanting about town, is barely presentable." She was holding her hand up in the air to communicate her lazy bewilderment and froze that way for a moment. Then, as if suddenly realizing he was sitting a few feet away turned and addressed her eldest for the first time since his entering the room.
"Robert, you're wearing that dreadful sweater again. Those savage stripes. You know, Robert, there is a reason we took their land away. The filthy things." She smiled reassuringly at the room. Robert sat very still and stared at his plate. His face darkened with every word.
"My son Robert, you know, is a... well it just wouldn't do to say. He's an embarrassment to the family." She looked back at Robert maniacally compared to her prior languid demeanor.
"Is that what you wear when you go out trolling for men, Robert? Trying to muck up some low life degenerate in Arizona's road places. Is that what you do, Robert, when you go out?" She stopped and looked back at the guests. Everything was silent. She took a moment to puzzle over them. The twins, a boy and a girl, whispered into each others ears and the girl prodded the visitor sitting next to him and it prodded back playfully, each party trying to keep the secret thumb war safely out of sight. She considered them; their bodies made of glowing, whirling particles and their spindly arms with spindly fingers touching everything; touching her china.
"I'm not sure why Benny, the President, asked me to host you tonight." She began again. "Me and Debra, the first lady, are old friends you know, since primary school, and we aren't unaccustomed to hosting..." she paused momentarily, waiting for the word to come to her,"...important guests, diplomats and their wives and such." She reached for her wine glass.
"Where are you from exactly?"
One of the things began to glow brightly and it's body filled with swirling reds and yellows. Everybody stared for a moment. She exaggeratedly swallowed a tiny sip of wine.
"Well! That's very interesting." She said and looked down at her hands in her lap. The corners of her mouth began to scrunch and wobble ever so slightly and a tear formed and rolled down her cheek.
The boy tried to sneak an au-gratin potato from Robert's fine china plate.
"Don't touch my food you stupid lard!!!" Robert shrieked and tried to grab him but the boy rolled under his arms and got away. The girl sent a spoonful of cheesy potatoes flying across the table and the guests on the other side returned fire with a hail of asparagus javelins. The guests glowed with jovial, dancing lights and began flying around the room as the children chased them with handfuls fresh garden salad, which fell like confetti as they hurled it in the air. Everyone was shouting and maids rushed in to catch the children. Their mother sat staring at her hands.
The doorbell rang and one of the calmer guests, seeing that no one had gotten up to answer the door, went to see who rang the bell. He wandered smoothly down a long hall to the foyer and opened the door. Outside an Arizona Patrolman stood a few feet back from the stoop. His eyes lit up when he saw the strange thing in the doorway.
"Hi there, muchacho." He smiled," You don look like yer from around here." The Sheriff reached for his belt and pulled out his night-stick.
"Now, I'm gonna need to see yer papers, please"
[end]
I also have some other stuff to post, art stuffs. So that will go up soon.
Peace.
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