Comics by Michael Lowell Teague 2008-2009
Twelve gold fillings. One for each Apostle: Mark, Matthew, Luke, John, etc… There’s a little story that goes with these gold fillings. Do you have three minutes for a story that might change your life?
I’m not with that dog. That dog does not belong to me. We are frequently seen together, sometimes photographed together, and even occasionally invited to the same social functions. But—no—this dog and I have no personal connection. None whatsoever.
I believe someone is trying to take my blood pressure. I believe this person is a hypnotist of extraordinary powers, although this person has no real serious interest in medicine. It is my fervent hope this individual, whoever he or she is, will find a worthier occupation for their God-given gifts of hypnotism and leave the business of my healthcare, such as it is, to those who take it seriously. This remains my fervent hope.
You fool! You idiotic fool! I can see through walls! Have you forgotten this? I can see through that excuse for a skull of yours! Your thoughts crawl as worms before me! For they will never be more than worms to me! There is nothing you can hide from my all-piercing mind, you simpleton! Nothing is concealed in your simpleminded scheming!
Well, gawl dang! How’s a cowgirl ta git a man if she’s always all da time tangled up in barbed wire wid an ornery bobcat! Gawl dang it!
I wear this hat to get all the girls at the party to kiss me. And believe me, I’ve gone through some real dogs to get to you, sweet cheeks.
I fall down and go boom a lot. It’s an age-related thing. Gotta be there, I guess. Need a damn belt with this diaper, though.
When I do this, you're supposed to bring up my accomplishments. Remember? This is about making me look good, right? I thought we went over all this in the car. It can be about you tomorrow, but today it is about me. Can we focus here? What did I just say? Are you even listening? When I do this, what does it mean?
I don’t take antibiotics. Don’t want no little spaceships swimming around in my blood with little people in them. Sometimes they get to squabblin’ ‘bout which artery to take. That means they get careless and leave stuff behind, like tiny space helmets and screwdrivers. Sometimes they even bring more germs than they take away! They don’t do such a careful headcount on the germs when they’re clearing off the jobsite, either. And all the stuff about Raquel Welch being onboard in a sassy little jumpsuit with the zipper halfway down to her belly button—that’s only in the movie. Most antibiotics don’t come with a sexy crewmember. At least not the generics.
Fool parkin’ his car in da yard! Gotta driveway like everyone else and he’s parkin’ his car in da yard like a damn fool! His babies out playin’ in da street all day coz dey ain’t got no yard. What if one of dem babies git run down by a car? He ain’t got da sense God gave a toaster oven ta git out of da bathtub! Walkin’ round in hunnerd ‘gree heat without a shirt on—eatin’ food what don’t need a plate! Damn fool!
At first I thought it was a callus on my foot, but it was too far away to see well. Then it started making noises. Only I don’t hear so well, either. Anyway, when I put my shoes on (or maybe it was somebody else’s shoes), this thing—whatever it was—stopped bothering me. There were a couple of strange phone calls afterwards, where someone was apparently trying to fax me something. But I can’t say these events were related. Wouldn’t go so far as that.
Whoa! Let’s just everyone slow down. I’m not here to bust your chops, man. Try to look past the badge for a second. Try to remember when we was all kids growing up in the hood. You see, I’m not so different from you. We’re just a bunch of cool guys standing around on the corner shootin’ the bull. Right?
Did I scare you? Did I scare you vile doing my calisthenics? Dis is not lurching, you see. I am simply stretching out my abdominals. Must let abdominals stretch, you see. It vas perhaps de cape dat threw you, yes? But vhat I’m doing is not following you about, mind you. Dis is only de cardiovascular portion of my vorkout. Some exercises require a mat, and some extend to me following you out onto de dark parking lot. Dat’s vhat I’m doing, you see.
In case you haven’t noticed, Miss But-in-ski, I’m an Bald Eagle. An American Bald Eagle. No one’s going to mind if I take a few bucks from the cash till or slap a stripper on the fanny.
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