A comic about life, love, death, and concision, in about three colors.
Gnaghi, we're going to need a lot of bullets. Nyahg. Nyeerg. Nyahg. Nrahg. Watching Dellamorte Dellamore.

Gnaghi

2008-09-25

Dagon and I have watched a lot of movies, though it seemed it was mostly just me doing the watching. As such, I gave little thought to the appropriateness of the content.

Then again, appropriateness is not something I’ve ever concerned myself with.

Lately, though, Dagon has picked up certain habits which could, if I let my imagination get the best of me, be directly attributed to a video.

The first example began after the documentary called Berkeley in the Sixties. “OK Dagon,” I say, “time to go inside.” In response to this, in direct protest to my authority, he then proceeds to lay down. Refusing to leave of his own free will, I have no choice but to carry him.

More recently he has taken to mumbling like Gnaghi in Dellamorte Dellamore. “Where’s your bone?” I ask. “Nyag,” he replies.

Reason, of course, suggests the above are nothing more than coincidence, or delusion. Perhaps he’s always mumbled like Gnaghi, and only recently did I take notice. Likewise, maybe he independently invented non-violent protest because he likes to be carried like a baby.

But then, what business has reason in a comic?

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