Writers Strike: My Comics SuckDear Writer's Union:Writers Strike: My Comics Suck7 years ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
Hello! My name is Bill Smith. I am a cartoonist, creator of and writer for the comic strip Briefs. I cartoon because my doctor feels this is a better outlet for my "creativity" and it costs less than medication. Plus they couldn't keep me from hiding crayons in my underwear, and evidently that stuff is a pain to get off the padded walls. But enough about that.
I am having a problem. You see, when I heard that all the writers were no longer writing material, this put me in quite the block. Who was I going to get to write material for my comic strips?! The previous writer for the comic material had been myself, and things had gone rather smoothly with this agreement, with some comics garnering more than a 100 favorites when I was having a good day. I was very pleased with myself as a writer, and I was considering giving myself a raise (I knew I would like that and had cut myself rather short on my Christma
Birdie 15.1 What Goes Around"Hnngh! Hngh! Hah!" Anne's voice echoed off the walls of the Rosenthal's home gym. Each sound from her throat was matched by a loud smack, her thick training gloves colliding with the heavy bag that was suspended from a ceiling support beam. She had been spending more and more of her free time training. Over the past several weeks she had shown marked improvement, but she was still far from how fit she was when she boxed professionally.Birdie 15.1 What Goes Around4 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
She turned when she heard a door close further inside the house. "Mary must be home," she thought aloud. She undid her gloves and tossed them in the bin in the corner of the patio before removing the wraps from her hands. Mary entered the patio dressed in her jogging sweats. The old grey pants and shirt were nearly soaked through from the morning run. "Morning sis. Getting in a little bag work?"
Anne undid her hair tie, let
No LongerNo longerNo Longer7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
does you bright smile
light up the sky
nor your bright sparkling blue eyes
put the night stars to shame
does the sweet fragrance of your laugh
dance across the heavens
nor your shining aura
cloak the moon in silvery delight
you eternal light fades
as an unearthly chill steals over
the sleeping world
your golden sun rays
slip stealthily away
as the roses and daisies
cry for your warmth
your absence fills the air
with gloom and longing
the clouds douse the valleys and mountains
in bleak, gray shadows
weeping and crying as they come
trying to wash away the pain
does your charming voice
caress and care
nor your loving comfort
ripple through the lakes and oceans
does your witty words
whisper with the soft wind
weaving through the trees
and tinkling those little glass bells
nor your brightness
light smiles in the corners of the world
Dreary now are the days
like a barren sunset
with no light, no warmth
like a fruitless apple tree in winter
The FrogThere once was a frog that lived on a log in a bog.The Frog10 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
The frog's name was Frank, but the others called him Fred,
And frankly, Frank felt foolish when they did.
Frank was a friendly frog, in a genuinely unfriendly bog.
But still, quite often, off and on,
Frank the frog would have the others to his log.
And all the others always came and called Frank Fred and ate his flies.
But he was happy just the same, for Frank was just a friendly frog
Trying to find some other friendly frogs to be his friend.
He was close one time to a toad named Tim, from across the road
That flowed though the unfriendly bog
That housed the log in which the frog would come home to unwind and unload.
And it was indeed thanks to him, the toad named Tim,
That Frank was nearly torn limb from limb by some limb-tearing boys
Who regarded toads and frogs as toys.
For fun, the limb-tearing boys flung their toys, the frog and the toad,
To see them scram from an old Dodge Ram that was rambling recklessly down the road