POTATO MOON, Part 8 by David Cardillo

potato_moonPAD here. I just want to take this moment to say that I am, quite frankly, blown away by the quality of submissions we’re getting. Great job to all concerned, and keep it coming!

Jakob stopped, perplexed. Most women had shot him down by this point, and a few were normally calling the police. What DID he have to offer? He looked down at the spurned spud in his hands, realizing that his macaroni art was even less accomplished than his attempts at effigy.

Taking his silence as a silent confirmation of her fears, Bela said, “That’s what I thought.”

Jakob bridled and replied sharply. Bela looked at him, confused. Jakob removed the bridle and repeated himself, “I have plenty to offer you, not the least of which would be an intriguing mystery to discover what I have to offer you.”

Bela studied him, noticed the uncontrolled quivering of his lip, the glazed, sweet look of his eyes that reminded her of donuts, the sheen of sweat on his forehead that made him sparkle like an adolescent with a gland problem…

POTATO MOON, Part 7 by Christopher DeSantis

potato_moonNOTE: This is the second entry within the past day. So be sure to read part 6 by Michael Davidson before you start on this one!

The room grew cold and colder in the night shade, and a wild wind whipped the flickering flambeaus on the façade into a flashing frenzy.

“Castle Thunder” grumbled throatily outside as Jakob stared into the face of Bela, the selfsame Bela who had just mocked his ardent devotion. Her eyes, usually as soft as triple-pureed adirondack blues, were now cold and devoid of affection.

“Woe is me,” sighed Jakob.

As if on cue, an apparition drifted into the room like steam over a bowl of boiled lilis. It was Woeisme, her raven hair standing out against her yellow-scalloped nightgown stamped with maris pipers, which only poorly disguised the growing shapeliness of her form.

Glasgow Comic Art Convention, Part 2

digresssmlOriginally published April 24, 1992

And so, as more love letters are doubtlessly winging their way to CBG demanding my head, merely because I have the temerity to give Image the same consideration that I do Marvel and DC (notice that no one ever gets mad when I criticize the Big Guys), I blissfully return to the bonnie, bonnie banks (those are the twin sisters of Marvel sales honcho Lou Banks) of Scotland and my trip to the Glasgow Comic Art Convention: