Friday, November 1, 2002

Note: Sure, sure... we could have done a week's worth of strips detailing the frantic game of hide-and-go-teraport around Planet Chuba, as Tagon and company sought not only to elude the angry Ob'enn light craft, but also to locate their tumbling, freezing comrade. It was a race against time, for had the sergeant tumbled out of the shadow of Chuba into the raw, harsh starlight of space, he would have been cooked.

Why did we decide not to build comics around this story? Well, it's not October anymore. Schlocktoberfest is therefore over, and the proposed story title "The Search for Schlock" had too creepy a ring to it.


Transcript for Friday, November 1, 2002
Schlock: AAAAUGH! I'm awake! I'm awake!
Tagon: Yes, Sergeant, I'd say you are.
Schlock: I just had the worst dream.
Tagon: Let me guess: Your spaceship exploded around you, you tumbled through the void for what felt like hours, slowly freezing, and wondering if you'd ever see any of your friends again.
Schlock: Whoa. Is this one of those archetype thingies?
Tagon: It is. But it also really happened. Our ship is gone, and we're being hunted by Ob'enn warlords, and we've been thawing you out ever since picking you up two hours ago.

Other than that, how was your nap?
Schlock: You would make such a terrible parent.

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