Comics by Michael Lowell Teague (Best of The Rest)
Were you saying “hi” to me? I was standing across the street, and though I don’t know you, and though your “hi” may have been directed at someone closer to you, I heard a distinct “hi.” I was not looking at you at the time, and so it is possible someone else said it, and so I was just wondering.
They left me in charge. The guy in the truck with the official-looking logo. He left me in charge. So if I were you, I wouldn’t ask any more questions. Just friendly advice. That’s all I’m saying. If you were smart, you’d walk down to the nearest drink machine and buy yourself a nice cold Pepsi and think about how smart you are in just walking away from this. You’re a smart guy. You look like a smart guy. And from one smart guy to another, leave this to the people in charge. Leave this for us to worry about.
Someone messed up the potato salad. It’s supposed to have little chopped up gherkins in it and not chopped up green onions. If things work smoothly on this end, then you never see me. If things work right on the potato salad front, then you never see Johnny Rebel, and that’s a good thing.
If they didn’t intend for Smelly Forehead Bear, America’s favorite naptime companion, to eat the name tags, then why did they make the adhesive smell like vanilla?
Every robot comes with two leg units. That’s standard issue with robots. That’s just the way it is. If a robot turns up on your door stoop with one leg, trying to pull some crap or something, telling you he needs a ride down to the liquor store or up to the gas station to buy a carton of smokes, tell him to clear off or you are going to write down his serial number. That usually does the trick. Robots are logical. They get up to speed with that serial number thing real quick.
I am wingless bee, and I am happy bee, mostly... But you lay things down on the table too hard, like you are all the time mad at wingless, happy bee. This is distressing. This induces unhappiness. Perhaps you need a hearing test. Perhaps you are not aware how loud you are with your pencil and coffee cup. Perhaps I should cut you some slack since you have weight problem and no boyfriend.
I’ve got five of the six strings I need for a guitar. But I don’t need a guitar to hear the music in my head. It’s not pretty music. Lots of people screaming. Maybe a warning of some kind. Hard to make out the words. Something about an invading organism, and C Deck being sealed off with an acetylene torch. Maybe there’s a line in the chorus about dead crewmembers. Don’t think it’s a love song.
Yeah. That’s the clown. Thought he got hit by a bus last week. Thought he got drug down the street under a bus. Man, that guy’s got more lives than a cat. Just goes to show. Never see that guy anywhere except between here and the liquor store. Always going on about something. Always collecting Styrofoam and rinsing it off in the lawn sprinklers down by the bank. That guy’s a trip, though—a trip! Drug under a damn bus down the street!
I wonder if the dog that was in that old movie is dead now. He’s gotta be dead now, coz dogs don’t live that long. Besides, this dog was a bad actor. I mean, he was clearly looking at the camera all the time and not at the other actors. Man, that’s weird, seeing that dead dog. That dog is no longer alive.
I need someone to cash a check for me. I have a hundred and forty-one dollars and sixty-two cents in that bank across the street, but I’m allergic to air-conditioning. If I write a check for hundred and forty-one dollars and sixty-two cents, and make it out to cash, you can take it to the bank and cash it, give me a hundred and twenty-eight dollars and zero cents, and keep the difference. There’s a Guatemalan kid who needs an organ transplant. One of the cheaper organs. It runs about a hundred and twenty-four dollars, which leaves a little left over to buy the kid a McDonald’s happy meal or something. You could really help a fella out.
Go back! You’re going the wrong way! Medical marijuana’s a killer! You’re going the wrong way!
Water is big. It’s every place land is not. It moves around a lot. Like people on short-term leases. It’s photogenic. I’ll say that about water. Always looks good in pictures. Hard to take a bad picture of water. However, it has a mind of its own. Not open to the art of persuasion—water. Sure, you can put it in a container and call it a beverage, but who are we fooling here? That’s like putting a bull in a pen and calling it lunch.
I’m saving one orifice. Holding one orifice back for my wedding night. For that one someone special. A Gortmuzble must have some respect for herself.
This I decree: You will wash my feet. You will honor my descendents with an unrivaled banquet of fatted ox, edible mushrooms, and platinum flatware, and you will wash my feet. Before the multitude gathered in that place, in the Land of Gog and Megog, before the adorned chieftains and their scribes, you will wish everything said here today undone! And wash my feet with your tears!
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