I have been known to be a little over dramatic about my feelings. This is case in point. Heavy thoughts yo. Once the chemicals balance out I can see how silly things are. Yet at the time it seems so fucking dire. This is one of my few attempts of these over embellished thought. It’s a slow building theme. It’s hurt a lot making it, which kinda makes me smile. I can be so full of shit sometimes.
Cover of the preview
Slurville Presents: A Friend Of Mitsy
This event takes place within the town of Slurville. The same town the Arch Agency appeared in. This is a 5 page preview to a story that I am building in script form. WIth the intent to write a feature film.
Right now the current plan is to create a full color motion comic of this content, then co-produce a short film from the feature script. I hope you dig this 5 page thing so far.
Rowdy Scallywags and myself have been itching to do a comedy type thing for a while. With time and budget constraints, some of our other pilot ideas have been temporarily shelved. Due to a shipping error I have recently acquired several thousand comic books. Many of which are….questionable.
In my attempt to reduce the stacks I came up with an idea…This show was created. There are three more episode scheduled introducing some characters and awkward attempts at financial freedom from the shackles of Rory’s strict mother (played by Melissa Ray) Rory has quite an eclectic of funny books. Some of which may interest potential buyers.
Production photos taken by Ray Olson.
Hope some of yous check it out and maybe get a kick.
I found her somewhere in the depths of San Bernardino. She caught the corner of my eye. With a look like that she quickly became the focus. What struck me as odd aside from the obvious, were these neon green rolling papers she slings out. Naturally, I thought she was getting ready to inhale the devil’s grass. That was until I seen her crouch down to pick up three smashed cigarette butts from the front of the liquor store where I was picking up my daily amenities.
She tore out what little tobacco was left in those lipstick stained butts, stuffed them into her papers and rolled ’em up. It was gross, unsanitary, yet resourceful and mildly romantic.
I asked how she was doing. “I’m smoking butts, how the fuck you think I’m doing?” I apologized. “Sorry, I asked too early. I’ll ask again after the first drag” She broke character and smiled a very short smile.
Being the gentleman I am, I lit her makeshift cancer stick with Irma, my lucky torch.
“What’s your name? I’m Dave” I say reaching out my claw. Staying in character she smiles a wide smile “Fuck off”
She walks off into the setting sun like a fading sunburned polaroid. The biggest kick I get is only knowing her as Fuck Off.