Silly human. Your world isn’t panning to eat you. It only wants to chew you, digest you, and then regurgitate you up so it can feed you to the cute little baby worlds. Adult worlds much prefer the taste of avocados. Although it is mild, the taste of an avocado is very unique. The flavor itself is very subtle and is earthy. This is because it is the very thing that the Earth loves best. If you don’t want to be eaten, try offering the world some avocados. Works every time. 


I have no idea what is going on in today’s comic. If you know, feel free to let me know. You’re welcome.


Silly Human, we aren’t claiming to know your destiny. We’re just singing the fish song. Also, would you mind having a word with Billy about his singing. He’s always off key and about seven to eight verses behind.


“You said that this carpet had enough whatevers to make it across the sea!”
“Yeah, but I was lying.”
“Fair enough. Can you take care of my pets till I get back? I might be stuck on this island for a while.”


Look, I know that we are still on the Self Guided Nature Loop and not on the Great Dragon’s Descendent Trail, whatever that is, because I am good at reading maps. Look here, see we started over here at the visitor’s center and … Ten minutes of explanation later. …and sure it might seem like we’ve been walking for awhile but according to the map it has only been about 20 yards since the last numbered marker and we should be coming up on number seven any minute now, so keep your eyes out for a bird’s nest in an elm tree. 


I say that I only speak the truth, but what if that’s a lie? What if everything’s a lie. Because listen, time is an imaginary construct and so it is actually impossible for me to be late. Also, I may have wrecked your boat. Can you pick me up somewhere near the Bermuda Triangle? Thanks!


We thought about covering our city in ghosts, or maybe tapestries. One of us even tried to sell us on the idea of birds, but nobody was really listening. Then sunflowers were trending for a while. Then alphabets. Then letters. Then time itself and anchovies. But somehow or other time moved on and counted down seven weeks of everyone talking over each other right up to the great election. And people gathered from all four corners of the world that happened to be within the census district of the city, around the wishing well of accidental charity and dreams at the very center of the city’s voting district, right next to a bakery and across from a barbershop. Each individual proudly wore their self identity and semi personal agenda on their t-shirts and origami pocket scarfs. The day started with lanterns turning into butterflies. It ended with each ballot practicing ballet and being stamped in postage history stamp books and tossed into the well. And anyone who’s anyone already knows how the vote turned out, but what you might not know is that some butterflies are made of ceiling wax. It might seem unrelated, but on my way back from the election I may or may not have overheard an argument about how everything is related to somebody, and I know some people, so maybe, just maybe, you actually came here just to hear that some butterflies are made of ceiling wax. If so, you’re welcome, and now you know.  Some butterflies are made of ceiling wax.