Hey guys, just saying hello. I am particularly proud of my talking fish transition. I have to say, Barry wrote this script sunday morning according to my inbox, though surely it fibs. It’s a clever “oops I forgot to comic” script.
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For the record, I promised chicks for today’s comic. I also I promised not to forget to write the comic. I also promised not to tip any more cows. I kept exactly one of these promises, but there’s still time to fix that. I can’t have people thinking of me as trustworthy. That’s far too much responsibility.
I was not, however, playing Warcraft while I was neglecting my comicking duties. Okay, well maybe a little, but you’d have to be a fool not to take advantage of that sweet, sweet daily quest gold.
As I am obviously not wasting enough of my time playing video games, it has been my sinister intent to acquire myself a Playstation 3 by any means necessary. One of the advantages to running a largely unknown and unpopular comic is that I can say shit like that and not have my inbox fill up with fanboy nonsense about how the PS3 is not the finest piece of videogaming anything to happen ever. Which is fanboy nonsense in and of itself, but where the Metal Gear Solid franchise goes, I will faithfully follow. Or in this case anticipate its next move and head it off at the pass panting like a dog waiting for an autograph.
On my salary, however, “by any means necessary” generally translates into “blatant act of theft”. So imagine my jubilation when a local video game store erects a poster outside that offers me two-hundred bucks toward my coveted video game system of choice if I trade in eight of my old games. Now, I hold no illusions about the value secretly locked away in my dust-collecting game collection, but I figured I might get lucky and at least one of my unused used titles would garner some monetary attention. So I pack twelve likely candidates into a bag, and take them to a place where they can find new homes.
I was practically laughed out of the store. They conducted themselves in a professional manner, yes, but the manner in which he handled my bartering goods with loose fingers and a dismissive eye led me to believe that he directly inferred my worth as a person from what horrors he saw in my bag. I’d’ve had better luck try to trade in raw seaweed, apparently, for it nutritive value might have tipped the scale back in my favor.
So I’m back to plotting my heist while “making it up” to an ornery Soul Calibur III.
Ja.