Snoring Boring

The season has ended at the park I've been working at since March. It was just a part-time job, mostly weekends with a few days during the week in the summer, but it was something I really liked doing. Mainly I worked in a "general store" as a cashier but I occasioanly got to do tours of the park. The park is part botanical garden and part "historic town" where old buildings that were common in early Kansas history. I'll talk more about that in an upcoming Saturday post.

The last couple of months have been rough with working at the park, having my regular job, and going to school, along with everything else I do, but I had fun and liked having this opportunity. I hope to be back next season.

 

November 18, 1967

Sorry, Santa, you signed up for this job so you have to listen to children giving you their Christmas list. It's part of the deal even if you are just out there ringing a bell.

Then turn Siri off, Brutus! It's going to get you in trouble!

That's no cubicle.

He Really Hates Pouring the Gatorade Over Himself

This woman, whom Mawhor claimed died of consumption, died very suddenly. Levi Adams remembers the death of his first wife. Its suddenness surprised the community. Adams said he remembered that Mawhor's actions were peculiar. He would not talk of her sickness and evaded reference to it. When the neighbors extended their sympathy, Mawhor usually said, "Well, every one has to die." Adams is convinced now that Mawhor poisoned the woman.

Is William Mawhor a cold-blooded killer? Read the rest of the article here.

September 11, 1988

What am I supposed to do with this comic? Why is Veeblefester waiting for a bus?! I also feel this comic is on the slippery slope of "Why should we property taxes on our cars?" I agree, but I understand what taxes are for.

Everything about this is depressing. No friends, zero on his uniform, the blandest colors I've ever seen on a sports outfit, the TOUCHDOWN panel. Just depressing. I love it.

 

 

 

 

 

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It's Got to Be Hard to Breathe In That Ghost Costume

He woke up to thunder. Out the covered window, he saw that the sun was coming up. The thunder boomed again. “That’s odd…” Dominic got out of bed and went to the window. He peered out of the boarded-up window and saw three people in black robes and hoods standing around a fire underneath the window. “The hell…?”

Laughter echoed throughout the house. Dominic’s hair stood on end and goosebumps appeared on his arms. There was a loud, slow knock on his bedroom door. Dominic didn’t know what to do. Keep an eye on the possible cult members outside or see who was at the door. He slowly approached the door. They knocked only once. He opened the door and stuck his head out and looked up and down the hallway.

Darkness there and nothing more.

There was a knock on the front door. Slow and loud like the one on the bedroom door. Knock……knock……knock. “Probably the caretaker,” Dominic chuckled to himself. “Leaving Ryan and MaryJane’s dead bodies on the stoop.” Dominic went downstairs and opened the door. Three robed people stood outside the door, similar to the ones that were out back. They began approaching the front door with their hands leading the way. “I already know about Jesus,” Dominic said and slammed the door.

Read "Ghost of A. Chantz" from Liberty Horror #4 for the rest of the story here.

November 17, 1967

You know what? It's 1967. I fully believe Wilberforce smokes. I think my grandfather started smoking around Wilberforce's age. Of course that was way back in 1944.

Friggin' parents. Isn't this comic spooky with the random Jack O'Lantern on the fence, the craggly tree branches and fog covered moon? Nice ambiance.

Wilberforce is going as Bat-Manga again. It's nice to see the kids reusing old costumes instead of buying new ones every year.

Eh. Why Start Now?

Don haunted Eric’s dreams that night, making it hard for him to fall asleep and stay asleep. He woke up the next morning exhausted, shuffling his way to the kitchen where he saw Don sitting at the table. “Don! How’d you get here? I didn’t mean to kill you. I’m sorry,” he screamed at the corpse. He chuckled a bit. “I’m imagining this. It’s just guilt. Don’s real body is still where I buried it.”

Outside, the snow was uncovered where Eric had put the corpse. Eric’s eyes nearly popped out of his head. “Nononono. It can’t be. Dead people can’t unbury themselves.” He went back into the cabin, retrieved the body and put it back in the snow. “There. And it’ll be warmer today so we should be able to leave tomorrow,” Eric went back in and sat on the couch. “How did Don get into the kitchen? Maybe I’m still asleep. I don’t remember getting any sleep…” he began mumbling as he drifted off.

Read "Return of the Corpse" from Liberty Horror #1 for the rest of the story here.

November 16, 1967

At first I was just like "What is going on here? A robbery? Then why is Brutus hiding in a trash can?" Then I noticed that Brutus is naked. I don't know, if you are going to rob me of my clothes, you better be planning on doing something to my now-naked body.

I'm on the fence with Gus here. It almost seems like Arnie and the blond-haired guy spend just as much time as Brutus at the watercooler. Gus must bring his own water from home or something. It's in the wash so he has to use the conical paper cups today.

Zoom In On That Handsome Fella

 

Sir Patrick Stewart

1940 - 2026 

November 15, 1967

People know that recordings and actual people sound different, right? The clue here, aside from the tinny voice on the line, is that the person is just talking over you without pausing. Is this restaurant using pewter as just something fancy or are they cooking with it because, combining the low melting point of pewter and that most older pewter has lead, that doesn't seem like a good idea.

Did the recording hang up on Brutus? I love when that happens.

Wait a minute...

...Is he looking at pictures of himself? I hate to admit but I did do this earlier today but it was a sticky note with really tiny handwriting.

You know what? I don't really want Wilberforce to be hanging around either.

November 11, 1967

Art is subjective so I don't know why Brutus is getting mad and not just ignoring Wilberforce. Acknowledging him just makes him worse.

I don't hate Brutus' painting...

It's Wednesday. Plenty of time to get Mother Gargle out of the house. Y'all know my thoughts on Mother Gargle. This request is reasonable.

Happy Birthday, Brutus! Hope You Like Crap!

 

November 13, 1967

Brutus is worth more dead than alive. I've been there.

I like how exuberant this insurance? mortician? is. He really likes his job. You know what they say: "Find a job you love and you'll never work a day in your life."

People love getting things they don't want as a present. Get Brutus the dieting book if you want but don't get mad if it makes Brutus' birthday tense and awkward.

Madden '26

November 11, 1967

Nobody can see that skate? Somebody, at some point, should've seen it. When going to sit down. When pouring drinks. Somebody. Somehow.

"Winning is the best deodorant" is a saying that means every bad thing about a team doesn't matter or is ignored when the team is winning. Winning is the deodorant covering up the smells of a flawed team. You actually have to win for the quote to apply.

Is John Madden known for his quotes?

Even the Dog...

 

November 10, 1967

Ugh. I'd rather be cat-called by a bunch of burly construction workers than whatever these Maynard G. Krebs and Jet Screamer clones are doing. Just let a girl wait for the bus.

Okay. So I think Gladys is a decent cook. But what I think is that she experiments too much so what she cooks doesn't come out great. Just stick to the recipe. You can't go wrong with just sticking to the recipe.

 

 

 

 

 

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Friday Quickies

 

November 9, 1967

A fortune teller said that this was how I was going to die.

This is the only reason Brutus won't file the divorce papers--who will monitor his balding head?