A comic about life, love, death, and mysticism, in about three colors.
What, you don't like Juvenile?You think you can rap better? You my lil' mamma mia, And you already know,Who's ya daddy?Who's ya daddy?Who's ya daddy, ho? I smoke cigarettes,Because they kill me softly,Softly being key. You can't rap a haiku, stupid.

Battle Royale


I’m all for filthiness. After all, I plan on marrying Peaches some day. But there’s an important difference between being cleverly crude and being juvenile.

Or, as it should happen, Juvenile.

Try as I might, I have found no solace in his choice of names. Not that I tried all that hard.

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