The Fast Lane

You know, I don't think any transportation department around here uses barrels anymore. Just cones. Maybe I'm wrong and I just haven't been paying attention...while driving through construction zones...

Seriously, Brutus? You think you qualify for "living in the fast lane"? You? Really?

Evaluation

I've always been baffled that Brutus has continued to maintain his job at Veeblefester Tea Cozies. When my boss talks about my poor judgement, short attention span, and persistent tardiness then my meeting with them usually doesn't go very good.

One has to think, if Brutus is this bad at his job but still has one, how must the other employees work?

Of Food and Men

Is this waitress Brutus' mother? Why are you trying to push him to a cheaper burger? If he wants the triple then you get the man a triple. If he doesn't eat it then that's his money wasted that you get to keep. "Now Brutus, maybe that burger's a little too big for my lummy-wumpkins. Maybe get something smaller?" No:

[stares intently at the name 'Osmosis']

[staring intensifies]

[sighs] Based on my archives, we've seen Brutus fishing maybe twice. He probably doesn't fish because he never catches anything. He probably doesn't hunt because he doesn't shoot anything (he also has easy access to things called grocery stores and doesn't have to forage for food). He probably doesn't hike because that's a good way to snap an ankle. What I'm getting at is he's a born loser--fishing, hunting, hiking are all basically death traps and Brutus is right to avoid them.

Just Walk Away

I've been a human for the last [insert number of years here] and humans don't talk like this. At least normal humans. I don't ask my wife about my good qualities. Why would you? Seems like a dangerous game of Russian roulette to me.

Tank N Tummy #14

When Ned woke up, he noticed MaryJane was in the bathroom. But the door was open so she wasn’t actually using the bathroom. He got up and looked at her. She was looking at herself in the mirror, her right arm raised over her head. She was also pulling on something near her breast. “What are you doing?” Ned asked.

“I’m shocked you haven’t noticed,” MaryJane grabbed and held onto what was on her breast and turned to Ned. “I have this freakishly long hair on my boob.”

“No, I haven’t noticed,” he bent down and gave the hair and her boob a good look. “That is really long. You gonna pull it out?”

“No!”

“Want to use my razor?”

“I’ve been taking care of this hair for about three months. Shampooing and conditioning it. I even bought a special shampoo for it to make it stronger. It’s like taking care of a baby.”

“Ah,” Ned looked at her hair again. “Clearly you’ve gone insane.”

“I’m not a girly-girl. I don’t really go for fancy things but I’ve really come to love this little hair. It’s like a part of me.”

“Literally,” Ned smiled.

“Do you think I could braid it or at least put a bead on it?”

“I think so. It seems long enough.”

“Do you think that’s too weird?” MaryJane asked.

“I’d be fine with it. It’s your body. You can do what you want with it.”

“There is some gel in my go-bag. Can you get it for me?”

“Sure,” Ned kissed her cheek. “Love you.” He turned around but then stopped. “Uh-oh,” he said. He turned and looked at MaryJane.

“It’s fine,” MaryJane waved him off. “I love you, too.”

“Oh,” he was relieved. “Good. Gel,” he pointed at her.

“Yes,” she laughed and began petting her breast hair.




Dominic came in about two in the afternoon. Usually he wore a cheap polo shirt to work but today he was wearing a printed shirt of something he liked. Today, it was a shirt with his favorite band on it. Ryan knew what that meant.

“Somebody got laid,” Ryan exclaimed loudly. “And one-thirteen your change, ma’am,” Ryan handed the woman her money and she pulled her six-year-old daughter away from the counter.

“I had a good evening,” Dominic said. “That’s all I’m going to say. You know I don’t like to kiss and tell.”

“So who was she?”

“This girl named Greta. We’d gone out a couple times before but this time finally took.”

“Greta? Greta Von Bargen?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“I slept with her a couple months ago,” Ryan said. A customer came up to the counter with a drink.

“And twenty dollars in gas on pump three.”

“Really?” Dominic put an apron on and his nametag.

“Yeah, she was the girl who, like, worshipped me. She loved going down on me.”

“Why is it, every time I come in here, you three are having an inappropriate conversation?” the customer complained.

“Luck?” Aaron said. “Also, I slept with her, too.”

“What?” Dominic and Ryan reacted.

The customer gave Aaron a dirty look. “This is why you are working here and not a real job,” he said. “Next time, I’m gonna report you to your manager.”

“Jokes on you, sir. I’m here because I’m too lazy to fill out another job application somewhere else,” Aaron said.

“Those things are hard,” Dominic agreed.

“So how was your date with Greta?” Ryan asked.

“Amazing. I took her out to dinner at this little bistro I’d heard a lot about and then I was going to take her to this bar and get her a little drunk but instead…”

“Do you mind if we go for a drive?” Greta asked.

“Not at all,” Dominic replied. They got in Dominic’s car and began driving. They held hands as Dominic drove a bit through town and then out of town and onto deserted country roads.

“Do you know where St. Francis Hill is?” Greta asked.

“Yeah. Is that where you want to go?” Dominic made a turn and then another and began driving up a hill that then made a sharp turn. At the turn was a burned-out shell of an old stone church. He pulled into the dirt parking lot and faced the car toward the city, the lights shining just below the hill. “I love the view from this hill. It’s a shame the church burned down.”

“Yeah,” Greta said and began undoing Dominic’s pants with her hands. She went down on him for a few minutes then threw herself back into her seat and leaned it back. Taking that as an invitation, Dominic threw himself on top of Greta. He pulled off his shirt and hers, worked his pants down around his knees as they kisses. “You know,” she began between kisses and deep breaths, “they never caught who burned the church down.”

“I know,” Dominic breathed as he pushed himself inside Greta.

“Ah, yeah,” she reacted to him. “It was me, you know,” she smiled devilishly at Dominic and then kissed him.

“Really?” he asked after the kiss.

“Oh, yeah. I love to burn things,” she cackled.

“God, it was amazing,” Dominic said to Ryan and Aaron. “How were your dates with Greta?”

“Well, she was the one who picked me up,” Ryan began. “She had this beautiful cherry red car. I was waiting out my apartment complex when she pulled up.”

“Hop in, tiger,” Greta purred as Ryan walked toward the car. They sped through town before grabbing dinner at a cajun restaurant. After eating, the two of them drove around some more. The whole time, Greta kept putting her hand down Ryan’s pants and fondling him. A police car found its way behind them, lights flashing and siren wailing.

“You got a police car behind you. I think they want you to stop,” Ryan said.

Greta began speeding up. “I can’t do that. This car is stolen,” she said.

“What?” Ryan asked.

She made a quick turn and got on the highway, the police car still following her. She was able to get the car up to about 95 miles per hour before it started shuddering and the engine light on the dashboard lit up. “This is why you don’t buy an American sports car,” Greta complained and exited the highway, the police car still following behind. Greta finally started slowing down and as she stopped, the car made a loud clunk.

The cop arrested both Greta and Ryan and she tried to make out with Ryan while they were handcuffed in the backseat of the police car while on their way to the police station. After an hour, the police let Ryan go and even gave him a ride home. Ryan was in bed when there was a knock on the door at a little after two in the morning. “Greta?” Ryan exclaimed as he opened the door.

“Oh, good, you’re still up,” she pounced on him. “The moron decided not to press charges so the cops let me go and being in jail makes me so horny.”

“I barely got any sleep that night,” Ryan said to Dominic and Aaron.

“What about you, Aaron?” Dominic asked.

“I met Greta at a bar. I was trying out a new place and she just happened to be there,” Aaron began.

Greta bent her body around the pole and slid down it in a circle, spreading her legs as she reached the stage. She then arched her back and slowly raised her head, making a licking motion with her tongue. Men hooted and hollered but she looked directly at Aaron and curled her finger a couple of times to get him to come up to her.

“In twenty minutes, meet me in the back room over there,” Greta pointed and hissed in Aaron’s ear. “I’ll give you a free sample.”

Aaron downed a couple more drinks, watched another girl dance, throwing a few bucks at her, and then snuck away to the room Greta pointed to. He walked in and saw another dancer laying on the floor.

“Oh, thank God, it’s you. Something bad happened,” Greta was crying.

“Is she dead?” Aaron asked, pointing at the dancer on the floor.

“She wanted to get me out of the way so she could blackmail you. I wouldn’t let her. We got into a fight and somehow I stabbed her,” Greta cried.

“Somehow you stabbed her?” Aaron questioned. “Well, we need to call the police. It was self-defense…” Greta fell into his arms. “I’ll help you.”

“No, you don’t understand. I’m a stripper--a whore. The police won’t listen to me. They’ll lock me up and throw away the key.”

“Then what should we do?”

“We need to get rid of the body. She’s a stripper--a whore--no one will be looking for her,” Greta said.

“I think we should just call the police,” Aaron hemmed. “Your way sounds even more suspicious and makes me an accessory to murder.”

“Please?” she cooed. She undid Aaron’s pants and kneeled down.

“Wait-wait-wait-wait,” Dominic interrupted. “Greta’s a stripper and she blew you with another dead stripper in the same room?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s hot,” Dominic said to Ryan who nodded.

“Let me finish,” Aaron said.

Aaron and Greta rolled the dead stripper--who Aaron found out was named Chloe--into a tarp that Greta happened to have in her trunk. They loaded the wrapped-up body into Aaron’s trunk and drove to the abandoned church on St. Francis Hill, Greta following behind in her car.

Greta broke into the church and had Aaron dump the body on the floor. “Thanks. Now get out,” she suddenly had a molotov cocktail in her hand and threw it against the wall, igniting the old dry wood on the eastside of the church. “Follow me home,” she said, heading back out to the cars as the church burned down.

“So I followed her home and we had sex,” Aaron shrugged.

“How cool is it that our stories are connected?” Dominic said to Aaron.

“Story brothers,” Aaron thumped his chest with his fist a couple of times.

“But it’s clear that she’s a terrible person, right?” Ryan asked.

“Oh, yeah.”

“No question.”

“We really should’ve called the police on her.”

It's Time

Byron Edgar Chollar was born in Brooklyn, Connecticut. He served in the Civil War in Co. H of the 15th New York Engineers. In 1900, he moved to Baldwin City from Topeka. His entire family is buried in Prairie City Cemetery.

Of note, Chollar invented and patented a method for purifying gas as seen here. The beautiful angel memorial is for his son, Byron, Jr. and is made of white marble sculpted in Italy.

Laure Celina Chollar

Sept. 28, 1842

Sept. 26, 1911

MAMMA

Byron Edgar Chollar

Mar. 28, 1840

Oct. 24, 1913

PAPA

Helene Lucy

Chollar

Nov. 24, 1874

Jul. 3, 1963

Laura Grace

Chollar

Aug. 31, 1884

June 28, 1975

Our Darling Son

BYRON EDGAR

CHOLLAR

Sept. 23, 1872

June 12, 1892

We shall meet again

HE IS SLEEPING

If you would like to support my writing or research, you can buy me a cup of coffee over on Ko-Fi.

"Pop is talking to himself again."

"I know, Wilberforce," Gladys sighed as she gripped her son's shoulders. "I think it's finally time. I'll go get the number to that hospital. Why don't you go in and try to get him away from that reduced fat cream. Try to get him outside to play catch until the men with the giant nets arrive."

Why Doesn't Wilberforce Get Dinner?

STATUES
The girl loved going to the museum. She loved all the paintings and sculptures but what she loved looking at most of all were the statues. Her favorite was a tall statue of a Roman warrior flanked by two other warriors on either side. It looked well-worn with slight cracks noticeable but still looked in good condition. The fierce determination in the center warrior's eyes captivated her. They looked so lifelike despite being made of stone.

After admiring the statues for several minutes, the girl turned to leave. As she walked, she thought she saw just a hint of movement. Not believing what she thought she saw, she turned around and saw the statues stepping off of their pedestals and starting to walk away.

They stepped over the velvet rope and started to leave. "You can't just leave," the girl told them.

The statues stopped and turned back to look at the girl. "Watch us," the center warrior talked back and they continued walking.

"Where are you going?" the girl took a couple steps to follow them.

"Somewhere else."

"But you belong here. What will you do somewhere else?"

"It's a big world out there. We'll figure out something."

"You should stay."

"Why?" the statues finally stopped walking and turned to the girl.

"Well, it's nice here. You don't have to do anything but stand there. People will still stare at you but it will be in admiration instead of fright," she motioned to a couple person who were cowering in the statue's presence. "Also, you're my favorite thing here."

"Really?" the center warrior asked. He seemed shocked by that admission. He lowered himself just a bit to be closer to the girl.

"Yeah. I love how real you look and your eyes. I call them 'fire eyes' because it looks like you are trying to shoot fire from them," she said. "What would I look at if you weren't here?"

"There are other things. Paintings, sculptures, whatever that thing is," he pointed to something hanging on the wall, a long wire that was bent and manipulated in numerous places that had what looked like garbage stuck to it.

"Those things are all great but I come here to see you. If you stopped being here, I would not come here as much."

The warriors sat silently for several seconds before the center warrior stood up and looked at his fellow warriors. "Can you give us a minute?" he asked.

"Sure," she said.

While the statues talked, people coming into this area of the museum either quickly ran past them or turned to leave. Museum guards stayed away not knowing how they should handle this. Another patron poked at a bust thinking that it might come alive as well.

"We've thought it over," the center warrior stood tall as he turned back to look at the girl. "We will stay, at least a few more years but you have to visit every day."

"I can't do it every day, I have school. I can maybe do it once a week."

"Very well," the center warrior nodded his head. "We'll stay but you have to visit once a week and come see us. Deal?"

"Deal," the girl agreed. "I'll have to ask my mom to buy me a membership to the museum."

The statues began walking their way back to the pedestal. They stepped over the velvet rope again, stepped onto their pedestal and spent several minutes trying to get back into position. "Your arm was raised higher. Your knee was bent. And you were looking more in that direction," she helped the statues get back into place. "There. That looks good."

There was a crowd watching the statues get back into place. The center warrior looked down at the girl and smiled before setting his eyes to the distance. The statues refroze and stopped moving, going back exactly how they were about ten minutes before.

A guard came up to the statue and knocking on it with his knuckles a couple times, ducking preemptively in case they decided to move again.

The longer the statues stayed still, the more people continued about their day. People went from staring at the statues to going back to viewing other museum pieces. The girl continued to watch the statues and smiled at them. She was glad her favorite piece was back where it belonged. She looked at the center warrior's eyes and smiled bigger at his 'fire eyes'. She stayed for several more minutes before waving good-bye and turning to leave.  ▩

Thanks to Akasha for the story idea. If you would like to support my writing or research, you can buy me a cup of coffee over on Ko-Fi.

He could also do a little partner activity that makes you break a sweat and get your heart rate up but now I've put that horrible picture in your mind. I do apologize. That was very mean of me. And as for Brutus just breaking a sweat by walking, just look at him. If any part of your neighborhood is uphill, he'll die.

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I'm off for the next week. Make sure you follow me on Twitter if you want to keep up with what I'm doing. I'll be back next Sunday. Until then, I remain...
~Brian

Perfect Ovals

Technically, Brutus looks more fifty-four inch waist and fifty inch chest so turning him upside down wouldn't help much.

Battle of the Dads

For some reason, I don't believe someone who has named their son Butch would be a good golfer. Frisbee? Maybe. But not golf.

That Hamburger Needs Some Color

First of all, this seems really stupid even for Brutus. Second, you don't just ask someone what the crime they were convicted of was. If you need to know what it was, if it's important enough, they are legally obligated to tell you. If not, don't worry about it.

And you'd be mistaken if you thought I could make it through an entire comic strip and post with a guy named Ken Holt and not think of this: