Here’s a teaser/sample from the deep-fried dystopian “comic book” I’ve created with Ricky Sprague, who is a verifiable Champion of Humans. The whole spicy loaf will be appearing on this site soon. The following passage details the trauma endured by the protagonist, Quinton Dean, when he self-sabotages his best shot at journalistic transcendence.
Dean was crestfallen. His pursuit of the Lord Snowden Trinket was more than a labor of love. It was a spiritual and vocational quest. Dean used to quip that he was “doing the Lord’s work,” which made his fellow journalists at the Daily Error chortle. They so loved his wordplay.
It took him years to battle through the shame; ages to reestablish himself as a sage chronicler of the human condition. It was a bleak time. Dean succumbed to car ownership and gluttonous meals with excessive food mileage. His flowing brown hair fell out until all that remained was a shiny bulb of remorse. He ballooned to 155 pounds. At rock bottom, friends found Dean naked in the basement of a SE Belmont sex-magic bistro. He was slathered in a mysterious cocoon-type material, face down and positioned spread-eagle over a life-sized photo of swashbuckling tree sitter Tre Arrow.
Remarkably, there was a silver lining in this sludge. One day that story will be told. Today though, was all about ACTION.
Action indeed. Coming shortly to these pages.