Comics by Michael Lowell Teague 2007-2008
Yeah. They call me Grumpy the Flag. What business is it of yours? As long as I’m not touching the ground, what damn business is it of yours?
I’m not sitting at your table. I’m sitting at the table next to yours. And I’m not staring at you. I’m staring with you.
This is about the whale. That big white thing out there in the drink. Let’s focus on the task at hand. I’m the guy with the compass and spyglass. I’m the guy with the shiny brass buttons on his tailcoat. I’m the one guy who’s not wearing a nametag on this ship. No “Hello. My Name is Loser,” emblazoned on my lapel like a twit. To you I am “Yes sir.” “Yes sir” with a smile and “which way do I point the harpoon, sir?”
There are few things in life that calm a man’s nerves like combing a dog’s hair. If every man who would take up arms against a free people would comb a dog’s hair, what unspeakable good would ensue. A hand with a brush in it cannot make a fist. And a man never stands taller than when he stoops to accommodate a quadruped.
I need to go to the hospital. I’ve already got the little white gown with the crack down the back. I just need a car ride over there. I’m willing to ride in the backseat with the shedding dog and sit on the toolbox. I just need to get to the hospital. Got the IV stand, too. No IV bottle, though, but they should have that at any good hospital.
I would never eat in there, and I’ll tell you why. It’s about the music they play. It’s to do with all the cussing in those songs—none of which I will repeat. Sometimes it’s so bad you can hear it out on the sidewalk passing by. I’m talking about long strings of cusswords, and little else. I’m not even sure there all in American.
Don’t let personal friends administer your IQ test. This is a mistake. Learn from my mistake. Licensed professionals should administer IQ tests—not friends. When I say “licensed professionals,” I mean people with sharp pencils and accurate stopwatches handcrafted in Switzerland. I mean people who know all the fine print and don’t make it up as they go along. We’re talking about your future, here. I cannot overstate this: Learn from my mistake.
Yessir. I carry cough drops in ma ear. Left is fur lemon and right is fur cherry. If ya have trouble ‘memberin’, just thunk “L” fur lemon and “L” fur left ear.
We got here first so we’ve already named everything with Sharpies. You can name this stick, if you want. Oops. I guess we’ve already named that, too.
I cried because I had no shoes until I saw a man who had no feet. I cried because I had no comb until I saw a man who had no hair. I cried because I cried until I saw a man who had no tear ducts.
Even if I only have one eye, who are you to doubt me if I tell you I am going into the astronaut space program? We have no trust here, Maybell. That’s always been our problem. You can’t come here all liquored up and expect me to take you back like nothing’s happened. Your love is poison—poison in my veins! I’m going to Mars, Maybell. You heard right. Going to Mars to get away from you and your poisoned love. You’re a train wreck, woman.
I don’t want to drain my lizard on your birthday cake, princess, but I’ve got the steering wheel, and I believe that means I’m driving this hurling ball of space rock.
I’m just a fish wrangler, lady. Don’t got no bizness with suits or platters of finger food. Just know fish. And what ma gut tells me is dat dare are ‘bout ten thousand grudge-bearing guppies behind dat dam of yores. And dare goin’ ta bring down dis floatin’ casino and everthin’ you think is so high falootin’ and sparkly!
I’m not with them. I look like I’m with them, but I’m not. It’s just that I walk fast. I’m always bumping into the backs of people. If they’re blocking the sidewalk, then I tailgate until there’s room to pass. Never been a joiner. Played by myself as a kid. Too much in-motion to have a friend. Had a dog for a while, but he couldn’t keep up. Ended up eating him.
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