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For those of you who didn't believe me about the whole Batman thing...
by laughingwarlock

Is it just me, or does this work a little too well?

Fuck Yeah
by laughingwarlock

This is what I did during college.
by laughingwarlock

Hey guys. I collected all the comics I did for school newspapers, magazines, and other websites during my time at college and put it into a book. You can buy it online on lulu if you want by clicking the picture above or you can just view all the comics for free on my deviantart account (Well, most of them. I did make one page of comics exclusively for this book). Yeah, I wanted to do this because every year the Brandeis Comic Book Club gets a certain amount of funds in order to add a few more additions to their library, which they then lend out to other members. Figured this was a good chance to leave my legacy behind. And my legacy includes:

  • A series of newspaper strips involving a talking owl doing jokes related to odd events that happened on campus entitled "Judge B Owl."
  • A rap battle with Milk Puns followed by the two contenders taking a baby on a 20-page story to a restaurant run by washed up forgotten gods called "Planet Holywood."
  • The story of a pirate who conquered the sea with a magical pair of dentures.
  • AND MUCH MORE.

Like I said, all the stuff is free on my deviantart account regardless. So if you'd like to save your money until Allan Allander: Professional Forum Troll book 1 comes out this August, that's cool too.

As always, thanks for reading guys! You're the best!

That one photo.
by laughingwarlock

Believe it or not, I actually really pushed myself to get that image to look exactly the way I wanted it too. So here it is separately in case any of you wanted to see it that way.

Another Story of the Hour
by laughingwarlock

So this weeks' Allan Allander is going to be a tad late. I finished a strip last Saturday an decided to upload it as a bonus comic instead of saving it as buffer for Tuesday. I overestimated how fast I could get the next one done but I should have it up by Thursday. In the meantime, I'd like to share with you a short story I wrote for my creative writing class.

The assignment was to take a written published story and re tell it from the point of view of another one of its character. I chose the 1824 classic The Story of the Hour. It's a heart wrenching masterpiece that proved to be one of the most influential criticisms on the institution of marriage during the 19th century. It can be read for free here. Naturally, I decided to turn it into a comedy.

 

Another Story of the Hour

by Ian Price


"Now Richards..." Josephine began, holding her head high. "...it's important that this news be broken to my poor sister properly. She's afflicted with great heart trouble, you know."

Richards was leaning forward in Mr Mallard's armchair, staring blankly at the wall in front of him. After a few seconds passed he nodded his head in something that could be considered acknowledgement. Josephine continued.

"It is of the utmost importance that that she be informed of this frightful event in... bits and pieces. Yes, that's it. We wouldn't want to give that poor dear a shock by just hitting her over the head with it all at once, would we?"

Richards gave another half-hearted nod. Josephine might have seen it before continuing again. She was pacing the study now, rubbing her thin chin with a finger that was wrapped in a long white glove.

"Yes, bluntness in the matter would certainly be quite unpropitious. Best to give her the news in as many broken sentences as possible. Leave the matter half concealed so she can... adjust to the calamity."

"What?" asked Richards, his voice wooden as he snapped back to reality.

Josephine peered over her shoulder at the old man, scowling. "Veiled hints, dearie. I'm saying that we let the girl figure out the matter for herself, so she can better reconcile herself with the news... and what it would mean for her future."

"Oh." Richards said, giving another another nod. It was more certain the last two he'd given, but not by much. His gaze slipped back to the wall and his expression went blank again. Josephine was not amused.

"What's the matter with you?!" She hissed, storming back across the room as fast as her dress would allow her. "Isn't this what you want? Isn't this why you're here? To make sure this business is done with the proper delicacy it deserves?"

Richards gulped. He had thought it was. There hadn't been a doubt in his mind about it less than an hour ago. When he had heard of the railroad disaster, when the newsroom had received a telegram detailing a list of all the victims, Richards had been struck with a conviction he hadn't felt in years when he saw Brently Mallard being listed amongst the dead. He had scarcely allowed himself to remain there in order to confirm the news with a second telegram before darting out the doors and down the road with a speed that he thought had long since left him. He had rushed down main street, across the shopping district, and finally through the back roads that led to the Mr Mallard's humble residence, where his wife would likely be expecting him home in an hour or two. Brently had been like a son to him and that meant that he was the one who was supposed to break the news to his daughter in law. He had to forestal any less careful, less tender friend in bearing the sad message.

Or that had been what he thought, at least. Because after pounding on the door as hard as he could for what he now guessed was several minutes all he managed to blurt out before collapsing was, "I'M TERRIBLY SORRY BUT A TRAIN SEEMS TO HAVE LETHALLY MAIMED YOUR HUSBAND!"

Luckily, it had been Josephine that answered the door.

Now, sitting in that chair, he felt spent from the whole ordeal. His legs ached, his lungs burned, and he felt that now since he'd already said the words he couldn't find it in himself get them out again. Not that they had been particularly comforting words in first place, which made him feel even worse.

"Um, Josephine?" He looked up again, hoping some the color had returned to his face. "Maybe we should try a different approach?"

"What." Responded Josephine instantly.

"Well, maybe we should be a bit forward. I could calmly tell her what happened to Brently and then we both try our best to comfort her?"

"Oh, like how you calmly told me outside the only door ten minutes ago?"  Josephine replied, her voice sharp as razors.

"Yes, exactly!" Said Richards, nodding enthusiastically. Then he realized what he said and began waving his hands in front of him. "No, I mean-"

"And how you proceeded to comfort me by collapsing face first on the doorstep?"

Richards sighed, defeated. "All right. All right." With some effort, he began pulling himself from the chair. "Very well, we'll try it your way."

The bedroom was on the same floor but to get to it from the study one had to navigate through several winding hallways and circle back again through a bathroom. It was either an ingenious mechanism to confound robbers or the brainchild of the most daft architect who had ever walked the earth. As the two made their way down the long oaken floors, Richards spotted a picture framed in polished steel and hanging by the stairwell. It was of Brently and Louise on their wedding day, ginning madly like the happy couple that they were. Brently had his armed wrapped around Louise's waist and was holding her to him tightly. Louise was laughing while clutching a bouquet of white roses, getting ready toss them into the crowd. As the they passed the photo, Richards was shocked to see that both he and Josephine were standing in the background smiling politely. That's right! Josephine had been the bridesmaid and Brently had chosen him to be the best man. How could he forget something like that?

The memories of that day came flooding back to him. The sky had been sunny enough to promise that it wouldn't rain that day but cloudy enough to discourage any distant relatives from attending when they really weren't all that welcome there in the first place. The cake had been delivered late but had tasted fantastic. And it had been autumn. The trees had just started to coat the ground with a layer of fragile leaves that would crumble at the slightest touch. And they had all been red. Red...

When they entered her bedroom, she was sitting cross legged under the sheets in her night gown. Evidently, there had been some problems the night before and now she feeling too weak to get up that morning. Nonetheless, she smiled sweetly upon seeing them and waved them in enthusiastically.

"Richards! It's so good to see you! Come in! Come in!" She smiled a little harder. "How have you been?"

Richards opened his mouth to speak but Josephine cut him off.

"Louise, poppet." She began. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine sister..." she jibed playfully. "Really, Jo. I wish you'd let me get up. I'm honestly long past that little fainting spell I had."

Josephine winced at the mention of her nickname, but she continued. "It's no trouble love, really. You deserve a rest after everything that's happened."

"Oh you." She laughed. "Honestly, Richards. If this woman had it her way I'd be doted on by a dozen maids and twice as many doctors with as much as she worries about me."

Richards tried to respond but found that after being cut off by Josephine the words he had wanted to say last time were now caught halfway up his throat. For the life of him he couldn't get them unstuck.

When she saw that Richards was remaining silent on the matter, Louise's smile faded by a hair. "But really, Jo. I simply must get up. Brently gets home in three hours, and it takes at least two to make the meatloaf."

"Oh I don't think you'll have to worry about that tonight, dearie." Josephine answered, trying to sound as sweet as possible.

Louise cocked an eyebrow. "Hmmm?"

Josephine was drumming her fingers together nervously now. Her eyes began darting to various object in the room as if they'd suddenly become profoundly interesting. "Well, you know that train Brently takes to work every day?"

Louise folded her arms and the smile all but disappeared. Not many people appreciate being patronized. "...Yes?"

"Well..." Louise began moving across the room towards her sister, trying her best to ignore the increasingly distracting items. "...there was a bit of an accident."

"Oh god he's not stuck in Yorkshire again, is he? There's so many Welch tourists over there that last time he came home beaten nearly half to death with consonants."

"No." Josephine sat down on the bed next to her sister. "Not exactly."

Now Louise's smile was gone. Her eyes had started growing wide. "What do you mean?"

Louise had moved on to preoccupying herself by tugging at the fabric of her white gloves. "Well, the accident was a little more... pernicious this time."

"Pernicious?" Louise grabbed the hands of her sister and gripped them tightly. Josephine found that the rooms' knick knacks were becoming positively enthralling. "What in the blazes does pernicious mean? Jo, what happened to the train? Where's Brently?"

"Ah, yes." Josephine's eyes fell upon Richards standing in the doorway. "Richards, would care to divulge a few of the particulars of what happened to the poor locomotive? I'm afraid I still don't know the exact details."

"The first five passenger cars went careening off a bridge when it rounded a bend and crashed into a large heard of sheep that had escaped during a recent mud slide. They toppled down a jagged cliff face for half a minute until plunging into the rapids below and were swept off towards the Atlantic Ocean. The rest of the cars were merely trampled by the remaining sheep and crushed under an ensuing second mud slide."

Richards couldn't help it. The words just popped out.

"Ah." Said Josephine, glaring at Richard's with the intensity of a thousand exploding suns. "I see."

"Brently was in the third car."

"Yes Richards that's enough."

Louise was besides herself now. "What does that mean?!" She asked between heavy pants. "What are you saying? Where's Brently?"

"Well he's..." Josephine's gaze was fixed on a lamp located slightly to her right.

"He's WHAT?! Buried under mud? Impaled on the side of a cliff? At the bottom of the Atlantic Ocean? Trampled by sheep? What?! WHAT?!"

Josephine said nothing.

"IS HE DEAD?!"

"I'm afraid so, poppet. Yes."

What followed was a whirlwind of tears, emotions, and frantic flailing that neither Richards nor Josephine could scarcely follow. First Louise flung herself into her sisters' arms and began weeping at once with wild abandonment. Then she reeled back and began screaming at the top of her lungs at the ceiling to alert everyone within a five mile radius of her loss. Then she threw herself back into her sisters arms before pounding the mattress until her fists were raw and storming out the room. She slammed the door with such force during her exit that the whole house seemed to shake. Richards and Josephine were so stunned by this development that they remained behind for several minutes before finally deciding to follow her.

"This is all your fault." Josephine said to him as they passed through the bathroom into the hall.

"Me?" Richard's snapped back. "I'm not the one who decided to turn breaking the news of Brently's death into a blasted game charades."

They began opening all the doors in the hallway, trying to find the one Louise had stowed herself away in. There had to be some hope left for fixing this mess.

"That was a nice touch with the sheep by way. I was really able to picture my brother in law's skull cracking open under a well placed hoof." Josephine had opened a door to a nursery Louise was preparing in case she one day found herself pregnant. She had told her sister that her heart couldn't take a child but Louise would have none of it.

She sighed. "This is why it would have never worked out between us anyway, Richards."

Richards stopped short as he was opening the door to the attic. A damp musty smell rushed into his nostrils and he buried his face in his sleeve. "Jesus. You're not really going to bring that up now, are you?

Josephine gazed into the nursery for a moment longer. There was a crib in the corner made of varnished hickory that was engraved with shapes of stars and the moon. Josephine suspected it had come from that carpenter who had owed Brently a favor. A plethora of stuffed animals hung from the ceiling above it, hanging from smooth linen strings and swaying slightly. There was a chest by the window for further playtime acquisitions, a carpet on the ground that was woven quickly but delicately, and a rocking chair which was draped with a thick woolen blanket. Josephine noted that nearly everything in the room was painted a bright baby blue. Everything except the blanket, which had been dyed with a deep crimson red. Red...

"No, I'm not." She said. And she closed the door.

They found Louise back in her study, the door locked behind her.

"You sure she's in there?" Richards asked.

"She couldn't have very locked the door from the inside out if she wasn't." Josephine hissed.

"All right. All right. Sorry."

Josephine pressed her ear against the door as tightly as she could and listened. Richards held his breath and a silence so great fell upon them they could have heard a pin drop.

"Do you hear anything?" Richards asked when he couldn't stand it any longer.

"I think so." Whispered Josephine. "I believe she's mumbling to herself."

"Well..." said Richards, now trying to lean against the door himself. "...What's she saying?"

"I believe she's saying..."

"FREE!" Louise suddenly bellowed from inside the study. "BODY AND SOUL FREE!"

They both cringed at the noise and soon Josephine was pounding against the door, imploring for admission. "Louise, open the door! I beg, open the door!"

Richards' reeled back, his head throbbing. Several of the blows Josephine had leveled onto the door had landed where he had tried listening for himself.

Josephine didn't seem to notice as she continued banging on the door. "You will make yourself ill! What are you doing, Louise? For heaven's sake open the door!"

"Go away." Louise responded. "I am not making myself ill. No. I AM DRINKING IN THE VERY ELIXER OF LIFE THROUGH THAT OPEN WINDOW!"

At this news, both Louise and Richards both began banging against the door in a reckless panic. The frame shook, the hinges creaked, but their combined efforts could not force it open.

Finally, Josephine turned to Richards and said. "Hurry! Go outside by the front to catch her when she jumps!"

Without hesitation Richard turned to rush down the hallway and down the stairwell with a speed that would have put the one he demonstrated less than an hour ago to shame. It was all for naught, though. He was scarcely out of sight when the door to the study was flung open and Louise appeared in the entrance, grinning madly.

Her hair was a mess. It was tangled and sticking out every which way as if she'd been wringing her hands through it with the zeal of a Scottish beard stylist. There was a feverish triumph in her eyes, and as she began marching down the hallway she carried herself like an unwitting goddess of victory. Her eyes were fixed forward and didn't even quiver in acknowledgement of her sister as she stormed off. Josiphine would've sworn she'd forgotten about her until she suddenly felt a something clasp her waist like a piece of bending steel.

"Poppet, dearie, love..." Josephine said breathlessly as her sister pulled her tightly towards her and paraded down the hallway faster than her dress would allow. "What are you doing?"

"This is it, Jo." Louise laughed a hearty laugh that seemed to have a immense guttural kick to it. "A new beginning! Henceforth there will be no one to live for these coming years! I will live for myself!"

They had now reached the staircase and Louise showed no signs of slowing her pace as they began to descend the steep, treacherous steps that led to the way outside. She passed her wedding photo with even less recognition than she had given her sister. In fact, Josephine thought she felt a deep chill emanate from Louise's very core as they were upon it and it made her shudder.

"Sure, I loved him... sometimes. But often I did not. What did it matter?!" Her words were bordering on coherent at this point and Josephine was trying her best to hike up her dress so her high heels wouldn't become tangled in lacy fabric and send them both falling to their death. "What could love, the unsolved mystery, count for in the face of this possession of self-assertion which I now recognize as the strongest impulse of my very being!"

They were both at the bottom of the stairs now and Josephine went wide eyed to discover that Richards had apparently never left the house. Apparently by the time he had gotten downstairs somebody had already been trying to make their way inside the humble abode. And after the latchkey gave a loud clank, the door slowly creaked open and a figure stepped through. As he stood there, bewildered at the scene before him, they realized who it was.

Mr Mallard stood before them, a little travel-stained but looking far too clean to be a ghoul who had just come back from the dead. After seeing the scene before him, he was still remarkably composed enough to continue holding onto his grip-sack and umbrella. He was slightly damp from the summer shower that had struck up ten or so minutes earlier but he hardly seemed like a man who had just climbed out of the Atlantic Ocean either. He stood amazed at Josephine's piercing cry and Richards' quick motion to screen him from the view of his wife.

It was too late. Louise looked up wide eyed at her husband and wordlessly breathed the word, "...Brently?"

And then she collapsed.

When the doctors came they said she had died of heart disease. Of the joy that kills.