The Headless Researcher
Well, David, maybe if you'd built a real airship instead of rendering one for the special little people in your head, you wouldn't have to go with anyone to the airport. Because you could all just take the WellsHawk.
Recently I was charged with Wacky Scheme Development for Pharaoh. Try as I might, I can not develop a sufficiently wacky scheme! I think this is because my schemes all work well in a texual medium, but do not translate well into cartoony visuals. For example, I considered having Pharaoh conscript a legion of vagabonds, drunks, incontinent old men, shoe shiners, newspaper peddlers, bag men, porters, animal handlers, male prostitutes, and the dreaded Dead Beat Dads, then deploying them into the heart of the Midwest. They would scour dating services and then take all the grossly obese/grossly disfigured/grossly socially inept women of the United States out on the town, where they would of course make a hideous mess of things. Then, when these women were disapponited and even more desperate than before, Pharaoh himself would mass-invite them to his carnal temple of love. When they arrived, he would have them all wound in gauze and buried, for a week, in the sand. When they emerged, they would be his mindless slaves, and hot to boot. They would be released on the powerful men of the world.
At this point, I start feeling ridiculous.
. . .
This is my favorite part of the year, this near-Halloween time, and I'm hardly enjoying it at all. Where the fuck are the headless horsemen? No one is trying to cut off my head.
I really wish they sold orange beer for Halloween. That would make parties infinitely better.
To the food coloring!
. . .
Andy, bring my damn gloves to lunch!
...fucking thief...
Recently I was charged with Wacky Scheme Development for Pharaoh. Try as I might, I can not develop a sufficiently wacky scheme! I think this is because my schemes all work well in a texual medium, but do not translate well into cartoony visuals. For example, I considered having Pharaoh conscript a legion of vagabonds, drunks, incontinent old men, shoe shiners, newspaper peddlers, bag men, porters, animal handlers, male prostitutes, and the dreaded Dead Beat Dads, then deploying them into the heart of the Midwest. They would scour dating services and then take all the grossly obese/grossly disfigured/grossly socially inept women of the United States out on the town, where they would of course make a hideous mess of things. Then, when these women were disapponited and even more desperate than before, Pharaoh himself would mass-invite them to his carnal temple of love. When they arrived, he would have them all wound in gauze and buried, for a week, in the sand. When they emerged, they would be his mindless slaves, and hot to boot. They would be released on the powerful men of the world.
At this point, I start feeling ridiculous.
. . .
This is my favorite part of the year, this near-Halloween time, and I'm hardly enjoying it at all. Where the fuck are the headless horsemen? No one is trying to cut off my head.
I really wish they sold orange beer for Halloween. That would make parties infinitely better.
To the food coloring!
. . .
Andy, bring my damn gloves to lunch!
...fucking thief...
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