A comic about life, love, death, and fantasy, in about three colors.
Fingers cracked and bleeding,caffeine and nicotine shootingthrough my veins, I surrendermyself to the music. My voicestartles me; it's unfamiliar. Ihave gone weeks without humancontact. Even my mother hasbeen dodging my calls. Ooh, hello... I would like to tellyou about the lord Jesus Christ. Tempting... * knock ** knock ** knock * : : . Pop Culture Tragedy . : : . "Orpheus' Song" . : : . 8.13.2007 . : :

Orpheus’ Song


My apartment is in a great location, tucked away in the corner next to the model unit. The only neighbor I conceivably have to contend with is a scary, motorcycle-riding cop that lives upstairs. But I don’t much worry about him. He’s got thirty midgety hyper children and a dog that jump and jive day and night.

So there I was, playing through my L7 songlist with wild abandon and Big Muff distortion full-blast, when I heard a knock at the door. I figured it was either the cop, the postman, or the apartment manager, none of whom could be bringing praise or fortune. I was surprised to find a plain Jane woman, mid-thirties, on a mission from God. She, in turn, was no doubt surprised to find me in my skivvies.

But as the uncertainty built from the setup is itself the punchline, I won’t divulge the ending.

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