|
The complex dilemna of the forsaken comicstrip character.
|
|
|
|
 | |  |
| Here we stand, so close, and yet so far away, encased in a mysterious black box, unable to escape, unable to touch... | |
 | |  |
|
 |
| | |
| Perhaps we can thwart our creator by utilizing the very tools that he sent us into the world with? | |
| | |
|
|
|
|
A futile and sometimes painful existence...
|
|
|
|
 |
| | |
| It seems that the limited selection of poses available to us has forced us to hammer our nails into our own heads... | |
| | |
|
|
|
|
And so short an existence, too...
|
|
|
|
| | |
| Wait! Here, suddenly, unbelievably, a letter has appeared in my hand in the same moment that the wound on my head has healed. It says "your time is up." | |
| | |
|
 |
| | |
| It's for the best, the pain in my skull is causing me to inexplicably urinate blood.. | |
| | |
|
|
|
