 I'm afraid there's no comic 'till tomorrow, folks. Got some big test-taking responsibilities looming over my head at the moment. I understand that lobbing out excuses for not posting a comic is weak and lame. However, since by the end of the weekend I'll have posted 6 whole comics, instead of the regularly scheduled three, I feel that my fan-base (i.e. me, my brother, my mom, and a few of my brother's drunken roommates) should forgive my actions.
Speaking of which, I do apologize for the poor button-placement in today's comic... I plan on performing a bit of an overhaul on the site this weekend so's those buttons don't get covered up by word bubbles and what have you.
In other news, ol' Rummy has stepped down, and the president of my university just got nominated to be the U.S. secretary of defense; I find this to be oddly surreal.
|
The burrito was a goner. It didn't stand a chance, even at it's inception. Flesh from the worst parts of at least three animals was mechanically separated, pulped, lightly cooked, thrown into a vat filled with triple-refried beans and rat feces, squirted from a pipe onto a four-day-old flour tortilla, hand-wrapped by a Midwesterner with sweaty palms, and flash-frozen. It sat in a refrigerated truck for four more days, enveloped in a thin plastic wrapper with a hole in it, before eventually reaching its destination at the Cheney Trading Company in Cheney, Washington. It was then bought by a poor, desperate man with little to no cooking skills, little free time, and a ridiculously small kitchen. It then sat in another freezer for a week, gathering frost from whatever moisture was trapped inside the
small metal box in which it was enclosed.
Then the door was opened.
Completely frozen inside and out, the pathetic little burrito, the last one in its bag, was thrust into an old, malfunctioning microwave with a broken timer. Four buttons were pressed, four beeps ensued, and four minutes counted down on the LED screen. The outside of the burrito began to warm, then grew unbearably hot. The hard meaty and beaney center remained in its frozen state for as long as it
possibly could before succumbing to the intense radiation surrounding it. It bubbled, pushed at the sides of the tortilla, and eventually broke through, spilling out from its skin like the intestines of a marine with a gut shot. The hot, sticky fluid burned and sizzled, forming a putrid, festering scab on the plate where it had landed.
Two minutes later, the microwave's bell went off, and the door was opened.
The burrito was hurt bad, real bad. I didn't think it was going to make it. "You're gonna be okay, burrito!" I said to it, knowing in my heart that it didn't stand a chance. I carefully lifted the plate from the floor of the microwave, setting it next to the corpses of other culinary victims on my crowded counter. I quickly removed the hardened scab and brought my knife down deep into the belly of the burrito. It
was literally fried inside out.
Eating the burrito was entirely unpleasant. It was like biting into a bundle of sticks wrapped in a dirty washrag that had been left to dry in the sun. My plate was soon littered with crumbs... CRUMBS from a burrito. Not even Tabasco could save it. However, one must not forget the sacrifices made by this courageous burrito, as one must not forget the sacrifices made every day by burritos all over the world, including our brave burritos in Iraq. |
Why a giant cowboy, you ask? That is a very good question. This is the second comic with reoccurring characters. That means instead of every day being another dive into a new realm of confusion, the casual reader will be able to take solace in re-visiting his or her old favorites, such as a cowboy destroying a city, or two college students who are both drunk and retarded. At some point in the distant future, we may even consider making sequential comics in which at least two or more comics in a row will be related to each other in some fashion. |
