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In intercomic hyperspace, Maura and Butch meet to resolve some weighty issues of art and philosophy....
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| Everything we've done up till now has just been a recombination of the available conversations. I want to be part of something truly new, and I don't care how much I have to drink to do it! | |
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| I'm not sure new is possible. No matter how I reshuffle her limbs, Mother still calls all my work derivative. "Texas Chainsaw for Hacks," she says. Ha. Ha. I can hear her laughing now... | |
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| I can... I will! Outside the box... Outside the box... | |
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| ...yet, even with preordained options, the WAY we choose must count for something! The voices said I HAD to whack that mailman, but running him down in a UPS truck should get me style points.... | |
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But the icons and archetypes of comics are not dispensed with so easily....
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| Woah! Don't count your all style points up just yet. I may be canned pixel art, but you and Jason are showing up to the Psycho Prom wearing the same dress - a hockey dress! | |
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| Great. Even in hyperspace, all women remind me of Mother. | |
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