Planet Purgatory: a comic strip

Tales From the Sock Drawer: Little Ralphie Ning

I used to like Little Ralphie.  He's one of those genuinely nice guys: someone who'll always say 'hi', even if it means crossing the road.  When he discovered I was writing a book, he took a real interest in how it was progressing, asking to read the various drafts and posing all sorts of questions about the back story.  It made me feel good.

So when Ralphie asked me whether I thought he should try writing a novel too, I told him, 'absolutely'.  Every second Tuesday he would e-mail me what he'd written, and I would respond with 'awesome!', along with a quick note on how he could make something better.  Never once did I think it would actually go anywhere. After all, I was the writer with the quirky imagination.  He was just a kid with a stupid story about vampire mermaids.

Imagine my surprise when I discovered he'd snagged himself an agent.  Now he was the one offering me encouragement while I sat at home wondering if this whole writing thing was a waste of time.  And if that wasn't bad enough I just discovered his book is due to be published this Spring.

Outside I pretend to be happy for Little Ralphie's success, but inside I hate him.

Tales From the Sock Drawer: Philip Tumba

Philip Tumba is a member of the Bulgoni Tribe.

Bulgonis are famous for starting life as senior citizens, aging backwards until approximately the age of forty-one, and then spending the rest of their lives aging like everyone else.

Meaning Philip Tumba is either three years old or eighty-five.

(I'm too embarrassed to ask.)

Tales From the Sock Drawer: Vince O'Malley

Vince O'Malley always had a knack for the scientifical, yet for whatever reason never pursued it.  Then one day he decided to enter my Sock Drawer's Annual Science Fair.  He did surprisingly well, placing third with a display showing what happens if you leave a nail in a container of cola. (it dissolves, apparently)  For someone who had never competed in anything before in his life, this was a huge achievement.

Unfortunately he didn't have long to enjoy his time in the sun: he'd only just received his commemorative plaque when his future-self jumped out of a time machine and viciously attacked him with a 2x4, nearly beating himself to death before escaping back to wherever it was he came from.

Vince vowed revenge, and once he was released from hospital he immediately began teaching himself everything he needed to know to build a working time machine.  His plan, you see, was to inflict the same damage to his attacker as he'd received that fateful afternoon, right down to blindsiding him while he was accepting his very first science award.

Perhaps if he'd been less angry he would have understood how pointless the whole thing was; he was only hurting himself, after all.  But he felt it was his destiny, and the moment he finished his time machine he was gone, setting in motion a vicious circle that even to this day I'm not certain I understand.

Tales From the Sock Drawer: Haiku Stu

Inside my sock drawer

A strange man speaks in haiku

Nobody likes him

Tales From the Sock Drawer: Kenny Chu, Tea Painter

Meet Kenny Chu, world famous artist and genius.  I say that sarcastically because while he is world famous, he most certainly is not a genius.  The guy literally wipes a used teabag across a canvas and then has the gall to show it in a gallery.  The only people dumber than  him are the morons who buy his crap.  Can you believe an original Kenny Chu Tea Painting sells for over $250,000?  In this economy?!?  If that's not bad enough, get a load of this quote of his I found on his web site:

"Painting with tea is a wonderful pursuit.  It’s expressive, relaxing and inexpensive. All you need is a teabag, a stick and a desire to communicate with something other than words and hand gestures." 

What a bunch of pompous garbage.  It makes me mad just reading it.  Seriously, if I ever snap and start flushing cherry bombs down public toilets, this guy's the reason why.

Tales From the Sock Drawer: Cheep

Back when my oldest daughter was 4 years old, I made the mistake of getting her a subscription to Cheep magazine.  The magazine itself was fairly benign.  Every month it featured stories and cartoons about the eponymous bird interacting with his many neighbors and friends.  But my daughter found it boring, and once the year was over, we were happy to let the subscription run out.

Except the magazines kept coming.

I didn't give it a second thought until one day I got a phone call from someone threatening to break my kneecaps if I didn't bring my account up to date.  I assumed someone was playing a joke on me, only to wake one morning to a large yellow bird smashing the windows on my wife's Toyota.

Turns out Cheep is also in charge of his magazine's collections department, and let me tell you, he's nothing like the adorable little fuzzball portrayed on the cover.  He's a thug, and that's why I've given very clear instructions to my children that if they ever see a big, bat wielding bird in a trench coat approach the house, they are to turn off all the lights and hide downstairs.

Tales From the Sock Drawer: The Shampoo O' Plenty

Not all the things in my sock drawer are creatures.  Some are inanimate objects.  Take for example my magic shampoo.  I've been washing my hair with the same bottle since the summer of 2009.  That's three whole years!  And it's not like I skimp on the stuff, yet whenever I pick it up it always manages to remain about one third full.

I've asked my pharmacist for his take and he has no explanation.  Me, I'm beginning to wonder if it has a wormhole inside it connected to a giant shampoo vat.  Either that, or I happened to pick up some kind of magical shampoo o' plenty.  I suppose its possible somebody is playing a trick on me, and pouring some back in when I'm not watching, but that would just be weird.

Tales from the Sock Drawer: Sasha the Skidmark Seer

I am, by nature, rather mystical, so when I discovered a psychic had moved into my sock drawer, I decided to seek her out.  I was in for a bit of a shock, though.  Turns out Sasha is a skidmark seer, meaning for $40 she will read the pooey marks on your underwear.

Fortunately, I am what is known as a pooey person, and after handing her a suitably decorated pair, I sat back and waited for her to weave her magic. What she told me left me disappointed.  Not only did she get my occupation wrong, (she said I was unemployed when in fact I am a writer) and get the names of my parents mixed up (my dad's the one named Jim) but she told me I eat too much cereal as well.

I don't want to say she turned me into a skeptic, but that morning at least, we both walked away thinking the other was full of shit.

Tales from the Sock Drawer: Gary the Crow

Standing five feet eleven inches tall and weighing 120 pounds, Gary the Crow is one massive bird.  And don't let the weight fool you: the reason he's so light is because of his hollow bones.  Seriously, if Gary was a mammal he'd easily top 250 pounds.

Not surprisingly, flying has become difficult for this over-sized corvid, so to make things easier, Gary purchased for himself a big black pickup truck.   He uses it like a bus, transporting crows to various parking lots around the city, quietly reading the paper while his normal sized brothers and sisters go in search of garbage.  Crows, though, are notoriously messy, and to keep his truck clean and shiny, Gary has introduced a strict no pooping policy: you're caught once and you're banned for life.  I don't know how he enforces it though; even Gary will admit they all look the same.

Oh, and what ever you do, don't call him Gary the Raven.  He hates that.

More Fiends from My Sock Drawer

For whatever reason, my sock drawer has become a repository for ghosts and other similar spirits.   One of the creepiest is Trevor.  He's this seven year old who broke his neck falling out of his bed one night and now he hangs around my bedroom with his big box of black crayons, drawing pictures of weeping children and dead trees.  It's so depressing the other ghosts have taken to avoiding him, even referring to him as Cheerful Charlie in the sort of sneery way only the undead can pull off.   And if that's not bad enough, he doesn't know he's dead, so I have to constantly tip-toe around his condition (or lack thereof) asking him stupid things like how his day at school went when I know perfectly well it’s the weekend.

Meet The Fiends in My Sock Drawer

Did you know there's a condition where a person's organs are on the opposite side of the body?  It's true, it's called Situs Invertus, and it comes in very handy if you're in a gunfight.  Or at least that's what Willem McGee told me.  He's a gunslinger, you see, and thanks to his wrongly placed organs, he's survived over a dozen duels, suffering only shattered ribs and punctured lungs when anyone else would have had their hearts exploded.   I didn't believe him at first, but then he showed me his chest, and let me tell you, there's nothing quite as odd as seeing a man's right nipple where his left nipple should be.

Meet the Fiends Living in my Sock Drawer

 Poor Olivia. She's dressed to go somewhere fancy, but before she can actually leave there's an important phone-call that needs finishing, and wouldn't you know it, the person on the other end keeps putting her on hold. It's been going on like this since March of 2002. (That's like ten years of being forced to listen to crappy instrumental versions of popular radio tunes) If I was Olivia I'd simply hang up.

Another Post on the Fiends Living in my Sock drawer

Veteran of the War. Ask which war and he will tell you the one between The Empire of the Recently Reunified Sock Drawer and The Evilly Disposed Socialist Republic of the Closet in the Hall Across From the Bathroom. (It was declared a draw on account of a highly contagious flu wiping out over 90% of the combatants on both sides of the conflict.) Abacus now spends his time reading old Reader’s Digest magazines and leaving toenail clippings in the corners of my sock drawer.

Meet the Fiends Living in my Sock Drawer

The word ‘grunyon’ is literally a contraction of ‘gross’ and ‘onion’. You see, if an onion is left to rot in the veggie drawer of a fridge long enough, it can somehow transmogrify into a bipedal, big-mouthed, slightly anxious creature with little-to-no self-esteem. This grunyon is a Walla-walla sweet that somehow migrated into my sock drawer in December of last year, bringing with it a smell that can only be described as a combination of body odor and fried onions.

Meet the Fiends Living in my Sock Drawer

Miss Ellywelly is a cute little kid with a horrible habit: she takes books out of the library using my card and then loses them. Not once has she returned a book she’s borrowed. Of course I’m the one the library calls when they want their books back. I’ve tried explaining to them it isn’t me taking the books out, that it’s really the work of a little girl living in my sock drawer, but all that does is encourage the library to pass my file onto a collection agency, and I’m not about to risk getting my knees broken over books about talking bunnies making cookies.

An Hilarious Scarecrow Cartoon

I like scarecrows.  It’s hard to put my finger on why, exactly.  Maybe it has something to do with the whole ‘artificial man’ thing.  You know, like robots and mannequins. Whatever the reason, every now and then I feel compelled to draw them. And maybe throw in some crows for good measure.

Meet the Fiends Living in my Sock Drawer

Lucas’ sole purpose in life is to inhale chips. Something he does very well, I might add. Seriously, in like one night, he can empty three of those giant bags of Doritoes you find at Costco. So looking at it through that particular lens, (living according to one’s purpose) Lucas is perhaps the most fully realized person in the whole of North America. He is also very lazy, leaving empty chip bags throughout my sock drawer.

Meet the Fiends Living in my Sock Drawer

Science has known for years that many creatures possess natural compasses that allow them to travel great distances without becoming lost. (Monarch Butterflies, for example. And pigeons.) Mr. Fuzzybuns has a compass. Unfortunately it’s broken, causing Mr. Fuzzybuns to become disoriented going around a corner. Thankfully nature has equipped Mr. F. with prolific bowels, and using the popular children’s tale ‘Hansel and Gretel’ as inspiration, he has learned how to retrace his steps by following the little trail of pellets he so consistently leaves behind.

Meet the Fiends Living in my Sock Drawer

Lonny will make an effort to always say hello to you, to ask you how you’re doing. Unfortunately this is all an act. You see what he really wants to hear is that you you’ve been recently diagnosed with heart disease and are mere days away from losing your house. So the next time Lonny tells you to have a good weekend, know that what he really means is he hopes you injure yourself falling down the stairs.