Carl - My Operations Manager

Carl's first order of business is to assure me that I am in no danger of sexual harassment, at least not on his part. It goes without saying that this scares the bejesus out of me, but since he's 92 lbs soaking wet (most of which is contained within his poofy hair, causing him to sway awkwardly when he stands in a breeze), I figure I'll be ok unless he approaches me from behind (pun intended).

His lips are red and squishy, and they purse and quiver in fear when he isn't talking. His eyes dart nervously around the classroom and I think I detect the faintest hint of shaky knees. Even when his voice raises in pitch and amplitude to a decidedly maternal and unbearable squawk (a common enough occurrence, especially during his lectures on the proper methods of spray buffing), I get the distinct impression that Carl is living life in constant and absolute fear. Whether this fear is present on a purely subconscious level or closer to the surface whilst remaining too terrifying to speak of openly, I cannot say.

I snap back to attention, suddenly aware that Carl is waving his finger around, accusing former custodians of deeds that led to their dismissal. "If there's one thing I will not stand for, it's SWEARING!!! Especially when a woman turns the air blue with that filth. It's so degrading to hear that come out of her mouth. Don't you think so?" I take the diplomatic high road. "It's pretty bad when a man swears too." I evenly respond. Carl smiles at me and reveals a gold tooth. "Then we understand each other. I see big things for you here, son. Stick with me and you'll do just fine." He claps me on the shoulder, spins on his heel and marches out of the room.

Later, I'm standing outside puffing on a joint that Jon from B-Wing invited me to share with him. "So ... what's Carl's story?" I carefully ask. Jon spits before taking the joint back. He takes a tremendous haul before answering. "Carl's a fucking lunatic: that's his story."

Off to Work

Yes, dear readers, Morton has a new job! It was difficult to find a position that was compatible with my temporal fluxes, but in all truthiness, I haven't suffered a jump in many months, and the entire episodic nightmare seems to have passed. That being said, I cannot commit myself to any sort of career where lives might be at stake, where others will depend on me, nor where I might find a semblance of happiness only to wake up one morning and discover that I was fired three weeks ago.

A high-school janitor graveyard shift seems a perfect fit. My supervisor is a spastic and wrinkly man named Carl, with permed hair and knobbly knees poking out from under his white company shorts. More on Carl later. To celebrate, I have created this minimalist laser-light portrait using MS Paint. Your welcome.

Evil Inverted #23-b - The Cult of Personality Revealed

Another piece from my Silly Period. Back in 1996, I was convinced that these guys were the evilest men in the world. For dramatic and spooky effect, I inverted their colors.

Freeeeaaaaaaky!

More filler for aesthetic purposes. My Dungeons & Dragons Elf Fighter/Thief was killed last night in an unfortunate encounter with a 13th level Goblin Mage. Finger of Death?!? Grrrrr... if my comrades manage to raise me from the dead next turn, you're in big trouble, pal! I needed to roll a 14 or higher on my d20 for save vs. spells. Alas, even my cloak of protection wasn't enough to tip the balance.

All but 254 were happy

Created before 9/11/01, if that makes you feel better. It doesn't? Well good. You should feel terrible about the state of the world every single second of every single day forever and ever. There's nothing like self-loathing and pessimism to bring about positive change in the world, jackass.


The following text is simply filler so as to balance the text with the image. This may or may not be a commentary on the state of mass media. God save the Queen.