Okay, my bad. Looks like the diamond-tipped bullet exited just under the fifth rib somewhere. Still makes it hard to carry much loot.

This page was brought to you by the color Orange. Because Halloween is coming.



The Ween II

Man, I just realized it’s been over a year since we started running 3 Minute Max! So this is actually my second Halloween post. Technically I’m a bit early, but the art on this page is so orange-and-black it is thematically required.

This year Halloween falls on a Thursday, which is sort of a bummer, because it makes parties on the previous weekend seem a little early to anyone who is still working on their costume (which is everyone) and Halloween parties that take place after Halloween just don’t seem to work right. Also, there will be barely any moon. But you can’t have a Full-Moon Friday Halloween every year, any more than you can have a White Christmas every year. You have to have the lamer ones too, so you can appreciate the good ones all the more.

I like Halloween as a festival in general, since it inspires creativity in the celebrants and doesn’t take itself too seriously. Also, I can buy pumpkins for cheap and afterwards fill them with blood and blow them up.

Hey, you have your traditions, I have mine.

I’m seeing the decorations go up in various places; when we first moved to our area we were all new families with small children and of course everyone got into it. Lots of decoration, lots of trick-or-treaters (real ones, small children in costumes wired on sugar and giddy with excitement) and parents with flashlights back on the sidewalk chattering with the neighbors.

Personally, I loved tormenting the trick-or-treaters. For a couple of years I wore a bloodstained wifebeater shirt with rips in it, used hairspray and a brush to rat my hair (which was pretty long back then) into a disheveled mess, didn’t shave for a week, and applied soot to my eye sockets. I would lurk by the door, and when the trick-or-treaters knocked, I would not answer. I would wait, as they waited, hearing them whisper to themselves about maybe no one being home, and then there would be a tentative second knock — at which point I would hurl the door open and burst forth, looking like a serial killer interrupted in his work, and bellow WHADDYAWANT!!???

Oh, I scared the pee out of some small children doing that. Literally, in some cases. They would flee in terror, shrieking, and would have to be coaxed back to get candy. The ones that were crying got extra candy. In a weird way it seemed to be popular though. I had to stop after the third year because I could hear the experienced ones warning the others as they came up the driveway.

So I switched tactics. Again, I waited until the second knock, but I just opened the door sleepily in my robe, and looked stunned to find children in costume on my doorstep. I expressed astonishment and regret upon being informed it was Halloween. I muttered something about having completely forgotten, but maybe I could find something… and I would shuffle off and come back with a basket of some of the oldest, most unattractive fruit I could lay in for the purpose. Brown bananas, withered apples, moldy oranges — maybe these would do?

It was so cute how polite the little kids would be. They would look very doubtful but assure me it was okay, and would start to take some of the least reprehensible specimens — when I would suddenly slap my forehead and remember oh yes, there was this other bowl — and I would pull out a huge bowl of candy bars.

So much relieved laughter and joy, and the ones who had been most polite got extra candy.

But the years passed, and the children grew older, and I think I knew the end was coming when the little girl who lived around the corner sashayed down my driveway one year in a harem costume that made it abundantly clear that she was not a little girl any more. I almost dropped the candy bowl.

Now of course, all the children are gone, and about all we get these days are the surly teens from other neighborhoods who show up reeking of weed and without costumes, demanding candy. They get the cheap stuff, if any at all.

But I know that out there in the Real World the original children are busy getting jobs and homes and married. And with any luck, before too much longer it will be time for the Grandchildren to start making the rounds and we’ll have real trick-or-treaters again.

I look forward to scaring the pee out of them.

–Bob out

Artist’s Notes:

Just gotta chime in really quick here- They bullet basically shot through the fleshy part of his back shoulder, near the Teres Major.  He’ll live but he won’t be doing any pushups for a while.

Also, having a lot of great new pageviews from what we can I think safely assume are from the Comic Rocket and Collective of Heroes crowd- thanks very much for your patronage and all the compliments on the art and writing thus far.  

I’ll try and get a little more input into this blog section in the future- I’ve been insanely busy over the past 3 months and Bob has basically been running everything himself- but I foresee a little bit more time available to me now, so expect cool things from the artist’s notes section here.

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