Portrait Card: Charles Schulz

I've only got 2 more Lewis & Clara strips left and while I'd be able to get one of them done in time for today's post, I wouldn't be able to get them both done. For some reason I'd kind of like to post them together. So in the meantime here is a picture of Charles Schulz.
Part of my mission to improve means more drawings of real things. Eventually I'll be able to do them and not have the end result be all goofy-looking. For instance, the picture I was drawing from had him resting his head on his hand, mine ended up looking like he's on a cell phone...or enjoying a nice Q-tipping. Also, it turns out the card stock I have bleeds like crazy.

Anyways, I did this one as the front of a thank you note to my neighbor. I sent her a thank you note on a normal postcard last year, so I figured I had to up the ante a little bit by doing the art myself this time. I'll probably have to learn how to gold plate a postcard if she keeps helping me out.

Lewis & Clara: The Outdoors

Argh! I'm cutting this one real close in terms of time. It's a bit rushed, but whatever. I blame past me for leaving an unuseabley rough sketch for the second panel when it was first done. At the time I figured I could just go to the spot I was drawing from and finish it up. This plan, however, falls apart when time isn't on your side and you no longer live in that state. Blah!


While coming up with ideas for this comic I remember I wanted to try and use visuals that could carry some of the comic's weight by themselves (another feature I felt was lacking in the paper's comics). Thus when I sketched these sample strips out I made sure to have one that had no words whatsoever.

Some of the classrooms at L&C had giant windows. While these windows are greatly appreciated they do tend to mock you when it's a beautiful day and you're stuck inside. You'd try to avoid looking at the happy faces lit up with sunlight and smiles, but you'd fail. You'd try to stop looking at the clock all the time and you'd fail that too.


[EDIT: It seems that when I post while booted into Windows the time stamp changes...for some reason. I assure you though this was updated at 11:56pm and not 9:07pm as it claims.]

Lewis & Clara: CLAs and Odd Freshmen

As of this post I have successfully completed 1/3 of my Post-a-Day April event. However, it seems that my posting is skewing towards literature. Since we here at "Excuse the Quality" strive to bring you a wide variety of material, we've scoured the sketchbooks for ideas. Since this blog's roots are in comics lets do some of that.

You see throughout my time at college I was continually dissatisfied with the comics in the school's newspaper. They tended to by a bit wordy and a bit odd. It seems that every year I'd try my hand at doing something better, decide that my art wasn't good enough, become self-conscious and abandon the project. In fact if you look around the archive's you can find a number of my attempts at this. Here's one, here's another one, and these ones too! It's a cavalcade of mediocrity and failure. Ahhhh, good times.

My senior year was no exception to my yearly quests to best "The Pioneer Log". I'm pretty sure the strip I had planned for that year was going to be called "Lewis & Clara". I wanted the comic to have some continuing characters from strip to strip. I love how you newspaper strips have a certain expectation with them. There's something comforting about knowing that every time you open the comics section you can expect to find out what these fictional people are up to this time. An attachment can form between you and them. Ideas like this were (and possibly still are) quite different from where the ones featured in Piolog were coming from. As you might have guessed my main characters were a guy named Lewis and a girl named Clara. A simple joke, but I still find it slightly endearing in that dorky sort of way. There were a few others as well such as CLA agent Vlad.

This first one comic is a joke on Freshman. You see the Freshman arrive before the other classes do. Thus when you arrived at your dorm you'd find your floor already full of freshman who had already met one another and had already established relationships. It was always a slightly awkward scene to walk into. I've never heard any one share this sentiment, so it is quite possible I'm just weird that way.

I think in the first draft of this one the last panel ended with Clara knocking the Freshman out of her way. The exchange between her and Lewis went like this:
Clara: Shove off, Freshie!
Lewis: Jeez, harsh much?
Clara: He wasn't wearing any pants!
Lewis: Touche.

While I love the idea of someone's lack of pants as a rationale for violence, Lewis was right and I couldn't do it without her seeming like a jerk. Although even now I still maintain that if a naked person is blocking your path and spouting insane statements you are perfectly within your rights to give them a smack.

The next one is the latest installment of my inability to accept the Resident Assistants (RAs) changing their name to Campus Living Advisors (CLAs). Because CLA sounds like "Claw", and that just screams covert operations. This is the only appearance of CLA agent Vlad in my brief run, but I had many ideas for him. There was a particularly great one where he consoles a homesick student by telling her a story from his childhood, which, in short, was less than analogous. I actually showed this one to a friend of mine who was a CLA. She was slightly appalled by the idea of a CLA shooting a student, but frankly that's exactly why I find it so darn funny.

That's all I've got for you get for today. Come back tomorrow for some more insight on the project that was Lewis & Clara.

Snowbeard, Part 6: The Season For Apples

        The sun was beginning to make its journey towards the horizon and Snow Beard was on the porch enjoying some cold beer with Jeff. It was the kind of day where you felt accomplished just for being alive to enjoy it. A cool breeze was in the air and colors were beginning to seep into the sky. Off in the distance a small figure could be seen flitting around. It appeared to be a person trying very hard to be stealthy and failing. After awhile it was gone and they didn't think too much about it until a few minutes later when a rather ugly old woman came shuffling down the road. She was clad in a black shawl and carried a wicker basket.
        “Oh, why hello there!” The woman said as if she hadn't noticed them until now. “My, what a fine looking dwarf you are, miss. A dwarf as pretty as yourself deserves a treat!”
        The old woman smiled and pulled a green apple from her basket and presented it to Snowbeard. Jeff looked at Snowbeard and Snowbeard looked at Jeff. It isn't every day strange people try to offer you fruit and there is good reason for that.
        “Uh, no thanks,” Snowbeard said, trying her best to not be rude.
        “Oh come now,” the old woman cooed. “What could be better than a nice crisp apple at the end of the day?”
        Jeff and Snowbeard both held up their bottles.
        “Well, I suppose that would be quite nice as well,” the old woman said slowly as her eyes darted around with thought.
        “Why do you have a basket of apples?” Jeff asked before the woman could think of a response.
        “Because I'm an apple salesman...woman!”
        “Isn't it hard to sell apples when they aren't even in season yet?” Jeff asked while taking a sip of beer.
        “Well...that's the best time, because, you know, supply & demand...and market fluctuation,” the women babbled and then nervously laughed. “It's all rather complicated.”
        “There's nothing more complicated than fruit. That's what my Gran always told me,” Snowbeard said chuckling a little.
        “Come on, deary,” the woman said as she took a few steps closer. “Have an apple.”
        “I'd rather not.”
        “Come on.”
        “Still no.”
        “Just eat the apple! Eat the apple!” The crazed crone thrust the apple in Snowbeard's face.
        Jeff gulped. He had learned a few things about short-tempered dwarves in the past few weeks. Thrusting things at them, even fruit, is not the best idea. They tend to see it as a threat. Snowbeard snatched the apple from the woman's hand while knocking her down. The next second the old woman was thrashing like a fish out of water as Snowbeard sat on top of her and force fed her the apple. It wasn't a pretty sight. But then, like a balloon deflating, the woman's frantic squirming slowed and then stopped all together.
        “Uh oh,” said Jeff. “Is she dead?”
        “She ain't dead,” Snowbeard said as she wiped her hands on her pants. “She's just asleep. Probably passed out or something. Here let's throw her out back. Maybe we'll get lucky and something will eat her.”
        They were just about to haul the old crone out back when it began to contort and twist. Jeff and Snowbeard both dropped her immediately and jumped back. What had once been a bizarre apple saleswomen was now a male dwarf.
        “You've got to be kidding me,” said Snowbeard.
        “Do you know her...him...it?” Jeff asked.
        “I think it's that dumbass King. I heard that he tried to have me killed just because I'm nicer to look at them him. Apparently he just doesn't do 'subtle',” Snowbeard said as she gave the King a little kick to see if he'd wake up.
        “If he could transform himself why didn't he just transform himself to be better looking?”
        “Why the heck would I know? Because he's an idiot?”
        “Fair enough. So, what do you want to do with him?”
        Snowbeard smiled, “Let's toss him way out back where something is sure to eat him.”
        Jeff and Snowbeard hauled the King deep into the woods and threw him in a bush. They took a brief moment to soak in the feeling of success from a job well done. Jeff gave the sleeping dwarf a final prod and they headed back to the house to celebrate their victory with further drinking.
        The next day a prince was walking through the woods. In most ways he was just like any other prince: handsome, charming, rich. However, unlike most princes this one had a bit of a thing for dwarves. Unfortunately for him, humans rarely have much contact with them.
        The Gods must have been smiling on this prince, because this was the second one he'd seen in the past week! In fact, the last one was the reason why he had to take this dangerous path through the woods. Normally he would take the main road, but the last time he did that he came across the most gorgeous of dwarves. He had tried to put the moves on her and barely escaped with his kneecaps intact. What outrageous luck to find this beautiful little dwarf man sleeping in this bush. This one wouldn't get away from him. Not this time!
        In the end everyone lived on happily ever after. Snowbeard and Jeff became quite wealthy after coming up with a way to grow and sell apples out of season. Minerson was promoted to King after Heinrich disappeared. The Prince got married to the second most beautiful dwarf if the land.
        What about Heinrich you ask? Well, Heinrich did wake up eventually. He woke up shortly after a priest had declared that it was now okay for the Prince to kiss the dwarf. Admittedly, Heinrich wasn't happy to wake wake up being kissed by a man and was even less happy when he learned that mutual consent wasn't necessary for royal weddings. But after the horror had faded, he was happy. He now had someone who really appreciated his good looks and cared about him. And that's all he ever really wanted to begin with.

                                          The end.

Snowbeard, Part 5: Heinrich The Crone

        Well past midnight the clouds silently drifted in front of the moon and the castle was dark and asleep. At least most of it was. From beneath the door to the basement a soft light flickered. The castle's basement is where Heinrich had set up his laboratory. It was there that he currently stood awake, working upon some ancient magic. He was hopelessly vain, quick tempered, and a total prick. But for some reason he had turned out to be adept at mastering the dark and mystical forces of the cosmos. His teachers were just as surprised by this as you are.
        His hair disheveled, his brow sweaty, his hands danced from vial to mysterious vial and he muttered to himself. Suddenly, with a puff of green smoke, a great bang sounded and Heinrich fell off his stool in surprise. When he got up and peered over the top of his work bench he found his beaker full of a translucent green liquid gently pulsating through the darkness. His potion was done. Now all that remained was a disguise.
        Surely his good looks would give away his identity. He began to cast a simple spell to change his appearance. If you had been listening to his incoherent stream of mumbling you would have heard much talk about how, “covering up looks like these isn't easy.” In fact it was quite easy and the spell was one of the first ones he had learned.
        Suddenly the mumbling seemed to take on more purpose and Heinrich dark robes began to writhe and contort. Then with a final pop of a newly formed joint they stopped. An old crone now stood where Heinrich had once been. Her back slightly hunched and the faint light of the laboratory falling in and out of her many wrinkles. With thin and gnarled fingers tipped in long dark nails, Heinrich stuck his open hand into the beaker of glowing green liquid. It began to froth and bubble widely. As he began to close his fist the liquid seemed to become more viscous and it continued to flay about widely. With seemingly great effort it at last settled on a shape. Heinrich pulled forth his withered old hand and in it he held an apple. A sneer crept across his face.
        The figure of the reformed King darted through the umbras, out of the castle and towards the river. From the royal boat house a small gondala could be seen emerging. It cut through the water and the darkness, the only sounds of its existence the water gently lapping at its sides. Then, with little to no consideration for who was supposed to be in charge of the kingdom in his absence, Heinrich disappeared into the night.

Snowbeard, Part 4: Fake Corpse Glitter

        Back at the castle, Minerson was sitting at his desk. Bags were under his eyes and his desk looked like a kindergarten art room had exploded with a full class inside. The top was stained with blood and paste and glitter. He had spent the last 24 hours hastily trying to make a convincing corpse using mainly paper-mâché and $19.50 in assorted butcher scraps. Obviously his attempt at capturing Snowbeard had utterly failed, but King Heinrich wasn't the type to accept that. While Heinrich wasn't the brightest of dwarves even he was smart enough to not accept someone's word when in came to matters of murder. A fake body was necessary.
        Minerson put the last strip of dripping paper on his corpse and stood back to admire his work. It had actually turned out better than he had expected and he especially liked what he had done with the glitter. While he waited for it to dry a little he went to straighten out his appearance a little bit.
        Despite the hard work put into the fake corpse, it turned out to be unnecessary. The King had a severe case of hemophobia and one look at the bloody mess of the paper-mâché dwarf was enough to cause him to faint. Minerson was slightly disappointed that the King hadn't taken the time to truly appreciate his creation, but his head was still on his shoulders and that was nothing to be scoffed at.
        Heinrich eventually came to and he did so with a big grin. He was once again the most beautiful dwarf in all the land. This of course meant that he could get back to his favorite pastime of admiring himself. He had even gotten a brand new magic mirror just for the occasion. Well, new to him at least. After spending all that money on the first one just to end up smashing it five minutes later, he decided a refurbished one would be just as good and much more cost effective. He ran off to his room and threw off the wrappings and asked it:

“Mirror, Mirror that I bought on sale,
Who's the hottest character in this tale?”

        The Mirror said:

“I’m very sorry my good sir,
But it’s Snowbeard’s looks that I do prefer.”

        The King laughingly replied:

“Silly mirror, you must be high.
I already caused that dwarf to die.”

        The Mirror stated simply:

“It seems you must have met a con-man
That sexy beast, she still lives on, man.”

        Heinrich let loose a howl of rage as a vein on his temple bulged. Minerson had tricked him! That little dwarf bastard, he'd get what was coming to him. But he'd get it from the sexiest dwarf in the land. It'd sting all the more that way...probably. Regardless, first things first. He had a damn fine looking dwarf to kill.

Snowbeard, Part 3: Home Invasion

        After walking for what seemed like forever, Snowbeard came across a farm. It was the first house she had seen since leaving Tumorwerst. She was nearly out of food and her whiskey rations were running low so she decided to check it out. She knocked on the front door, but no one answered. Since, technically, no one had told her she couldn't come in she decided that no one would tell her not to break down the door, so she did just that.
        She stepped through the pile of splinters that had once been a door and into a most peculiar abode. Everything inside seemed to have been built on a larger scale. It was as if some fashion senseless giant had built a house. Snowbeard was too tired and too hungry to put too much thought into the strange house and instead went looking for where the food was kept.
        The next morning, a tall gangly man by the name of Jeff Bucket was walking up the dirt road to his home pulling an empty cart behind him. He was a farmer by trade and had just taken a trip to town to sell some of his crops. When he arrived at his front door he was shocked to find he no longer had a front door: it had been transformed into a simple pile of disjointed wood. He was too tired to be bothered by the matter and decided that a wizard must have done it. Everyone knows wizards love transforming things. He'd get to work on a new door later, for the moment all he wanted to do was have a bite to eat and put his feet up.
        When he got to the kitchen he found all his cupboards were open and their contents strewn about. Pots and pans, peels and pits were all over the place. His current lack of a door must have let in all sorts of wild beasts and monsters. They were usually satisfied to just ravage his crops, but clearly they weren't the types to turn down an opportunity. Stupid wizards.
        Jeff would just have to add that to the growing list of things he'd have to do today. At the moment he was more concerned with putting his feet up and possibly taking a nap. He shuffled towards his bedroom, kicking his shoes off as he went. He reached the entry way to his bedroom and stopped. There was somone sleeping in his bed. And they were still there!
        A dwarf with a beautiful snowy beard lay asleep atop of his bed. A thin strand of drool hanging from her lips, glistening. She turned over and started to snore a very loud, although very ladylike, snore.
        “What the hell!” Jeff exclaimed with a nasally tone annoyance. This day was just becoming much too weird. “Who the heck are you!”
        The dwarf's eyelids, with great effort, managed to to rise to a halfway position.
        “Oh, hi,” it mumbled as it gave him a quick nod before closing her eyes and turning over again.
        “What are you doing in my house!” Jeff shouted, getting more and more distressed by the events of the day.
        “I'm trying to sleep,” the annoyed dwarf replied without bothering to turn over to look at him. “If you'd be so kind as to perhaps go outside if you plan on doing any more shouting?”
        “How did you get in here?”
        “I knocked on the door, then I knocked the door down, then I came in.”
        “But...this is my house!”
        “Well you never told me not to.”
        “But-”
        “I even left a note,” it said. “In the kitchen?”
        Jeff went to the kitchen and lying amongst the mess on the counter was a piece of paper. It read:
            “Dear Whoever,
                Thank you for having a house here. I am kind of sorry about the mess.
                                Sincerely,
                                            Snowbeard

                  P.S. You should probably get a new door. Safety first ♥”

        In his excited state Jeff was having a hard time finding the flaws in Snowbeard's arguments. She had left a note after all. Snowbeard decided that even though she had been more than polite she was going to need to have a talk with this bizarre looking fellow; otherwise she'd never get back to sleep.
        Despite their rather odd introduction Snowbeard and Jeff soon became good friends. Jeff continued to work the farm and Snow Beard protected them from the usual assortment of thieves and monstrous creatures that are always roaming about in fantastical lands. For her the job provided the much needed excitement that was lacking from her previous job as a miner. For him the situation not only gave him some nice company, but also fixed his newly discovered home security issues. It was a pretty sweet set-up all around. Except, of course, for those responsible for bringing forth Snowbeard's untimely demise.

Snowbeard, Part 2: A Brawl at the Bar

        Weeks later and miles away, at little bar in the little drunken borough of Tumorwerst, Snowbeard was in high spirits and enjoying drinks that were also. With a beautiful snowy beard like Snowbeard's it was rather easy to maintain a full flagon. The bar was full of drunken jocularity, but meanwhile, outside, there were fiendish plans afoot.
        Minerson had finally managed to track down the fetching dwarf the mirror had spoken of and, unfortunately, King Heinrich was still in a tizzy about the whole thing. The short dwarf and a squadron of local police officers were crouched down outside the bar preparing to put their plan into action.
        Snowbeard was just finishing off her 10th flagon when the door to the bar burst open and police officers swarmed inside. Although, still enjoying the warm glow of intoxication, she didn't really pay them much mind.
        “S-s-snowbeard!” Minerson stammared as he stepped forward. “You have been found guilty of treason and, by order of the King, you are to be placed under arrest.”
        The officers began to advance on Snowbeard. The sound of the officers pulling out their swords was promptly followed by the sound of a bar glasses being set down. Minerson had expected the bar to be full of drunk dwarves, but he hadn't taken into account just how good looking Snowbeard was. As it stood, the dwarves of the town were all so enamored with her that they were always on the lookout for a chance to impress her. The police were promptly set upon with a drunken intensity by an amalgamation of disheveled dwarves. A chaos of booze, fists, and hormones erupted throughout the bar.
        Snowbeard decided that now would be a good time to take her leave. She snuck out through the back, grabbed a few possessions from her home and headed out of town. The dwarves here, while not the brightest, were quite nice and she didn't want to end up getting them in any more trouble. As the town receded further and further into the distance, Snowbeard took a brief moment to look back nostalgically, then another to throw up behind a bush a little bit before heading back on her way.

Snowbeard, Part 1: The King's New Mirror

        Once upon a time in a land far away there was a kingdom of dwarves. They were ruled over by King Heinrich Bottom and the only dwarf he cared about was Heinrich Bottom. He loved himself so much that he spent most of his time looking in the mirror. He would use his mirrors so much that they'd wear out. No one could go through mirrors faster than him.
        It was a pleasant spring day and King Heinrich had just unwrapped his newest mirror. This particular mirror wasn't an ordinary mirror. This mirror was magical. So magical, in fact, that it was greatly over priced. However, things like that don't matter when you're King. He took the mirror up to his room to give it a test run:

“Mirror, Mirror, you must agree,
There is no dwarf more beautiful than me.”

        The Mirror replied:

“Actually, sir, I must confess,
It’s Snowbeard’s ass that I’d rather caress.”

        Heinrich's mouth dropped. He was shocked, after all Kings aren't used to hearing the truth. But you know how it is with a new mirror, they've always got a few kinks in them. Plus he had never even heard of this Snow...Beered. He decided to press the issue:

“Mirror, surely it is my buns of steel,
That you would rather cop a feel.”

        The Mirror replied dreamily:

“Snowbeard’s sculpted body and sexy beard,
Leave you looking rather weird.”

        That was the last straw, Heinrich had heard enough. No one made him look bad and got away with it. No one!
        “Minerson!” Heinrich bellowed, his face turning bright red with rage.
        The door to the King's room burst open as a particularly short bespectacled dwarf scrambled inside.
        “What...can I do...for you, sir?” Minerson huffed as he tried to catch his breath. He really wasn't paid enough to put up with these sorts of shenanigans.
        “I've recently been informed of a...treasonous individual who is subtly subverting my power. His name is Snow Beered or something like that. I need him...taken care of,” Heinrich said through an oozing sneer.
        “What exactly is his crime again, sir?” Minerson asked. It was a risky question, but he was nothing if not thorough. After all he was the one that always got stuck doing all the paperwork.
        “Treason!” Heinrich bellowed. “How many times do I have to say it? The law strictly prohibits people from going around looking better than the ruler. That's how 'equality' starts.” Heinrich spat.
        “I shall see to it immediately, sir.”
        In actuality there wasn't a law even remotely similar to the one the King was citing, well there was one, but it really only applied to moles and Minerson had pushed his luck enough for one day. He took a moment to enjoy a good sigh then set off to find this Snow Beered fellow and, with any luck, the King will have forgotten about it in the meantime. Minerson didn't much care for murder, though much to his surprise the job of a King's personal assistant involves an awful lot of it. If it came to that he'd probably just pass off the messy bits to the local authorities. That's, kind of, what they were there for, hopefully. He'd have to double check that one.

Random Poems

        Last night I stayed up pretty late trying to prepare some pretty cool stuff for today's post. However, I couldn't finish and had to go to bed. This morning I woke up and had to go straight to my job where I worked for 7 hours. Afterwards I came home, went grocery shopping, made some dinner, ate said dinner, and now here I am and my time to get a post in today is nearly up. Clearly I don't have time to finish my nice post for you, so here are some random poems I found laying around my hard drive.

Potatoes:
One potato, two potato,
three potato, four.
Six potato, seven potato,
ugh I can't eat anymore damn potatoes.


The Male Chauvinist Counting Rhyme:
1, 2, have a brew.
3, 4, scope the floor.
5, 6, pick up chicks.
7, 8, go on a date.
9, 10, have sex again.


A selection from "A Rap about Arbit":
The rain waters run aground
and the waves in river start to abound,
with the roaring sound that drowns out screaming,
hides all the scheming,
and obscures a lot of meaning,
but the salmon still swim upstream
'cause salmon ain't afraid to keep dreaming.


        Alright. Tomorrow's post will be a lot better I assure you. So until then.

Letter Extravaganza '09: Part 6

        30 letters down and 5 remaining. Those last few are pretty much all late responders so I don't feel as bad about their long wait. Regardless it will be nice to be done. I've actually gotten a couple of letters back and once I finish up the list I can get on to sending those awesome people some replies.

        Anyways, I'm quite fond of this new batch as it was a lot of fun to do. I still made some mistakes (as usual), but I could have made much worse ones. It is almost like the more of these I do the better I get. Who'd have thought?

        In case you don't read my twitter updates, for the month of April you can expect to see a new post every day. Might be a story, might just be a picture, might be a little bit of who-knows-what. But rest assured you'll see something new. A little make-up gift for my lackluster posting as of late.


26.

27.

28.

29.

30.

Supernatural (#29) is copyright Eric Kripke and Warner Brothers.

[EDIT] oops...totally forgot to mention that Spirited Away's Kaonashi(#28) is copyright Studio Ghibli, and/or Hayao Miyazaki, and/or Toho, and/or Walt Disney Pictures...I'm having a hard time figuring it out, but it is probably one of those.

Attack of the Puns

The following is an instant message conversation I had in September of last year. It has been altered slightly for the clarity of the reader. We join our heroes (Jesse and Megan) in the middle of a conversation. Megan was just about to go to bed when the call of the pun was sounded.

... ... ...
Jesse:
It would probably be the sort of thing you wouldn't want to try to do...like that awful toast war.

Megan:
*hangs head in remembrance of World War Toast*

I wonder if they are going to find TMD, Toasters of Mass Destruction.

Jesse:
Perhaps they will...in the future when astronauts come back to the planet and find it infested with damn dirty breads...but by that time the statue of liberty will already have been toasted.

Megan:
How long can we do this? I think we've gone on longer than most people would care to, but I'm loving it.

Jesse:
Making nonsensical references to toast wars?

That was hurtful to those killed in the toast wars...and I apologize.

Megan:
If France became our enemy, would we have to start calling it a French toast war?

Jesse:
It would only be proper.

The French would get fried in a toast war though.

Megan:
And sticky situations would arise from the syrup...

Jesse:
You are too good at this.

I cannot keep up at your levels of excellence. The best my brain has done involves egg on their face.

Megan:
I was just going to say that the enemies would crack under the pressure.

Jesse:
An international house would probably have to be set up to settle the matter.

Megan:
I can't top that.

It's so hard trying not to laugh, I don't want to wake up my roommate...

Jesse:
I find that hard to believe.

And it is probably a good workout...for your abs.

Megan:
Oh yes.

Jesse:
You wouldn't want her to eggsecute you after all.

Megan:
Be blown into powdered sugar.

Jesse:
There'd be muffin left of you.

Megan:
Then she'd be on the lam, run to the Florida key lime. Go under the alias "Sara Lee".

Jesse:
"Omelet me go!" she'd cry as they hauled her in.

Megan:
They'd throw her in a cast iron cell.

Jesse:
But the charges wouldn't stick.

Megan:
Due to the waffling of the prosecutors.

Jesse:
The whole ordeal would give her enough fame to lunch a writing career. Doughnut enough to hide her shame.

Megan:
What a crepe, to use my death and her unjust trial to her benefit. I hope for a turnover in the appleate courts.

Jesse:
She may have poached your future, but perhaps the forecast for the rest of the world is sunny side up.

Megan:
Let's just hope the message from my incident won't get scrambled.

Jesse:
It won't be over easy, that's for sure.

Megan:
Just remember my cause, don't be a benedict.

Jesse:
It may be a hardboiled world, where cereal killers go free, but it's pie time someone stood up for what's right.

Megan:
Wow, three in one? That was just icing.

Jesse:
It's easy when you're eclairevoyant.

Megan:
Or when they just hit you like a bearclaw to the head.

Jesse:
Well, I'm pretty sure I'm out of puns, but I think we deserve a toast for this wonderful display.

Megan:
Same here, but I guess I can leave on one last note for our toast: "Let them eat cake"

ugh that was just horrible...

Jesse:
Hahaha

I do believe this is the first time I've spent an hour punning.

Megan:
It's safe to say the same here. Usually I get eye rolls after the third one.

Jesse:
Over the internet?

Megan:
Usually indicated by *rolls eyes* or "har har now please stop"

Jesse:
How sad.

But pillow and behold, it has gotten rather late. You'd better get to bed or you're sure to meet with Serta doom. I wish you sheet dreams.