Sunday, February 27

Howie the Little Girl and her Pet Old Man Head have been dragged to the local college's Annual Beauty Pageant. They sit in the middle of the middle row next to Howie's mom, a large round woman wearing a pastel blue and yellow-striped shirt.

"Look how sparkly they are..." whispers Howie to Head. "Yeah, I like how stiff they walk, too. Like they're going to fall down." The girls walk around in endless circles, colorful dresses bejeweled with a universe of sequins.

"The talent part's next, Howie," nudges her mom. "We need to get you a talent, 'cause being pretty won't be enough, you know."

The first girl demonstrates a new kind of cleaning product. Howie's mom gasps in surprise at how easy it scrubs everything up. Howie sees a man on the edge of the stage holding a microphone stand. She holds up her best friend ever and waves him at the man, who smiles and waves back.

"Pay attention, Howie," her mom says as she points at the girl who is magicking her clothes off. The girl's small breasts jiggle as she walks around in circles, hands on hips, stomach sucked in tight.

Howie tugs at her mom's s sleeve. "I know what my talent is."

"Shh!" A skinny girl on stage juggles puppies.

"I know, Head," Howie whispers. "One day we'll win all the contests."

That night, after her mom goes to sleep, Howie and Head sneak out of bed to practice. They carefully put a peanut butter and jelly sandwich in the middle of the road, and sit on the curb to wait.

It isn't until dawn that a car finally drives by, and it isn't until the fifth one that the sandwich gets squished.

"No," Howie says, "You're the most talented ever."


We're standing in the parking lot of a public library.

"_____________________________," I say.

"__________,"says Mr. Happy Puppet Head. He spins in circles with disbelief.

"________________________________________," I turn to make sure there isn't anyone behind me. "_________________________."

"______," says the Hamburger Salesman who had been hiding behind the bushes. "_______________________________________________________!"
"________!" Me and Mr. Happy Puppet Head yell at the same time. We turn on our heels
and run as fast as we can away from the Hamburger Salesman.

We weave through thick traffic in front of the high-school and duck into the graveyard. "___________________," whispers Mr. Happy Puppet Head. We find a mausoleum door unlocked and hide inside.

"________," I whisper back, pointing at the confused Hamburger Salesman, who is running in circles waving his red and black striped hat around. "___________."

"_________________," Mr. Happy Puppet Head starts crying softly.

"_______," I say, patting him gently on the back. "___________________."

We wait in the mausoleum until the Hamburger Salesman finally gives up looking for us when one of the caretakers asks him to leave. They get in a small scuffle, but when the caretaker starts screaming like a little girl, the Hamburger Salesman's spirit is clearly shattered.

"_______________," Mr. Happy Puppet Head sniffles.

I think we can all agree with that.

Friday, February 25



This one is called "Making Friends."

It's the origin story. Where it all began, etc.

We think it's pretty funny.

Thursday, February 24

Wednesday, February 23



The wind came and took his last piece of meat away.

Wheat had never been hungry before. His entire life had been like pancakes, nothing to it. But when he found himself stranded on that small bump of sand in the middle of the ocean with his best friend, he thought, "This is the end of the easy life. Now for the hard things that come with castaway-ness."

"What are you thinking, Wheat?" asked Randall, his best friend.

"I'm thinking I've never been hungry in my life," he scratched his head. "I mean not really hungry. There's always been food, you know?"

Randall nodded his head. He knew what Wheat was talking about. Wheat took this to imply permission to kill his friend and ration out the meat to allow enough time for a passing oil tanker or air craft carrier to rescue him.

That was a while ago. However long it takes to slowly eat a medium-sized best friend, that's how long. So maybe a week or two.

"And now I starve," says Wheat. "With no one to keep me company."

"I'm here," says a voice. "Don't forget about me." It's the ghost of some ancient Egyptian Pharoh. Wheat had forgotten all about him.

"You think you could get me something to eat?" asks Wheat.

"Sure," answers Ghost-Pharoh. He produces a large cake, but it's a ghost cake.

"I can't eat that," says Wheat. "It's ghost cake."

"Really?" Ghost-Pharoh takes a large bite out of the side. "You sure? This stuff's good. Anubis made it. He's so awesome."

And the two friends--close but not best--sit on the bump of sand in the middle of the ocean. Ghost-Pharo enjoys cake after cake as Wheat slowly starves into ghostness, remembering Super Markets and Fast Food Taco Restaurants with fondness.

Sunday, February 20

"Which one did you say?" I ask Mr. Happy Puppet Head. He is in the Sci-Fi isle, and I'm looking at the Comedies.

"I don't care, just get anything," he yells, far too loud for the video store. He looks around to make sure no one is looking, knocks over half a row of videos, and bobbles over to me.

"I think I'll get this one with the famous guy in it. I think I liked him in something." I pick up a tape with the famous guy doing a funny pose holding a flower.

"No, get the one with the hot chick," Mr. Happy Puppet Head says. "I hear she gets naked."

"Okay."

Later we are watching the movie with the hot chick. It's most of the way through and it isn't very funny, and doesn't look like she's going to be getting all too naked.

"Hey Midnight," says Mr. Happy Puppet Head. "Go make us some popcorn."

As I walk into the kitchen, I feel a tingling. The tingling that you feel when you walk into a Slightly Different Dimension. An alternate version of myself is standing in the kitchen cooking up some quesadillas.

"Hey The Midnight Mailman," I say. "Those're a good idea. I think I'll do that instead of popcorn."

"Yeah," the other me says.

"...So, what's Slightly Different about this Dimension?" I ask.

"Oh," he flips the quesadilla up in the air using only the pan, and catches it with the plate. "We got the movie with the famous guy."

"Of course. How's it going?"

"It's really funny."

We both nod our heads. We knew it would be.

"Okay, I guess I'll see you later," I say.

"Sure," other me says.

In the Regular Dimension I make some quesadillas. I burn one and drop the other when I try my flip-trick. That Other Dimension Me is always so much more a badass.

Thursday, February 17



XTX and Bicyclemark are now inducted into our Hall of Favorite People We've Never Even Met.

They leave notes for us almost every single time. So they get drawings made of them.

And a story. Here goes.

**********************

INT. POWDER STORE - NIGHT

The store is dark and dirty. Powder is everywhere. Old ladies wallow in it, primping and porking their wrinkles.

HER
I'll leave this store when I damn
well am out of powder.

HIM
I'll leave, too. I hurry no lady.

HER
We are in love.

HIM
And I never stop the spinning.

HER
Okay, I have enough powder.

HIM
Quick, sneak some under your lids,
the janitor isn't looking.

HER
He never looks.

HIM
Yeah, he thinks cleaning
dirt is too funny.

HER
That's the old style. When there
were children who are now old. Like
Janitor over there.

HIM
Okay, now we left the Powder Store.

HER
Which button is it?

HIM
The Formula Lemon Unruley Chatter Hatter.

HER
Oh, sure. I found it.

Ignition was what.

Yes.

On Mars.

(The janitor thought it was funny to clean dirt.)

Thor Endur.

************************


"No, Hippo," she says. "Stop."

"Give me you," Hippo says.

And she easily outruns Hippo. Hippo is fat and slow and just doesn't want her bad enough.

She enjoys a cheese sandwich.

The End.

(I'm sorry for the slackness lately. there's been a little flu, and a lot of not having internet readily available. we'll be back on track soon, we hope we hope we hope.)

Sunday, February 13

Roboctopus went into the children't parents room and knocked over a lamp. He knocked over the nightstand and rifled through the papers in the top drawers. He tore up the paperback book their mom had been reading. He ripped off the bedsheets and threw them out the window, as well as the pillows, but the mattress got jammed halfway and he spent a lot of time trying to shove it out.

Roboctopus flailed his tentacles against the walls until the framed pictures crashed to the ground. He emptied all of their hygeine products into the tub and left the hot water on. The tub filled over and spilled onto the floor. He tried to flush the towels down the toilet.

Roboctopus took took all of the medicines and hid them in a secret compartment in his robot head. Later that night, he slipped most of them to Potato and Patti while they slept. It was easy, since he drugged them to sleep in the first place.

They didn't have to go to school for a week after that. Which meant lots of time to have fun with their best secret half-robot, half-octopus friend who lives in their back yard ever.

The two children cheered for Roboctopus. But quietly so their parents didn't wonder why they were so happy when their stomachs had to be pumped so often.

Thursday, February 10



The real giant monster has a poem.

"It's called, 'IN THE FUTURE,'" he says.

"Time travel machines will grow on trees,
While Machine Gun bushes blow in the breeze.

Blenders are tubers,
Grown underground,
And Racecars sprout up,
Bright red and round.

Lightbulbs grow fresh
For Children to pluck,
Lazer Guns flourish
With some Rain and some Luck.

I wish I lived in the Future,
Where it all grows on Trees,
'Cause working's for suckers,
And it all grows on Trees."

"I'm from the Future," says the mechanical giant monster.

"Yeah?" asks real monster. "What's it like?"

Mechanical giant monster shrugs its shoulders. "It's, I mean, I come here all the time. It's nice to get away from so much Future. You know?"

A butterfly flits by in the gentle breeze. They both watch it, amazed at the elegant and simple beauty of the world.

Wednesday, February 9



Do you have too many children?

Don't be embarassed, everyone does.

The time is for now to sign up for The Midnight Mailman Show Summer Camp!

It'll be a week full of fun and sun in our backyard. Your kids will learn the value of sleeping in beds they've dug themselves, start campfires with things they find in trashcans and other people's garages, and arts and crafts, also with things found around our neighborhood.

It won't cost you much at all. And you'll get all those noisy bundles of genetic lineage out of your hair for a week or so.

You trust us completely with your genetic lineage. You trust us completely. Give us your money and offspring.

Space is limited. Apply now.

Monday, February 7



...because I know you're interested in a page from my sketchbook.


Sunday, February 6



The Forever Night Story, part THE END.

Our eyes have gotten used to the dark.

Where before people were pretending everything was normal, going to work, school, baseball games, the world steadily got colder and colder, and more and more broken as giants wandered around smashing and eating things.

Ours is the last house left as far as we can see down the street, which isn't very far. There's no more electricity and no moon. Just the stars.


"We're out of booze," says Mr. Happy Puppet Head.

"Maybe we can find some," I say. But I don't want any.

Then we hear a loud clanging banging sound. It's the Marching Band. We peer out the window, listening as they approach. With Bermuda and Steve, the two-headed naked monster leading the group, they head straight for our front door.

The doorbell rings. We open the door.

"The Midnight Mailman," says Steve. "Mr. Happy Puppet Head."

"Come inside, it's cold," I say, opening the door wider for the small band of Marching Band to enter.

"Our sense of purpose keeps us warm," says Steve. I glance down at their exposed monster genitals, and they don't look too unhappy exposed to the weather as they are.

I shiver and wrap my cape tighter around my shoulders.

"We want you to join our marching band," says Bermuda. "It's fun. You guys'll like it. Promise."

"Nah," says Mr. Happy Puppet Head.

"Oh," I say, watching my floating red friend retreat back into the house as he sucks on his empty hip flask. "I guess not," I tell the rag-tag bunch of cold misfits on my doorstep. "Sorry."

"I don't think you understand how important this is," Steve tells me. Behind him one of his band members, a middle-aged woman who was playing a toy saxophone, grows quickly into a giant, eats the man playing the Chinese wok, and stomps away.

"We need you, you need us," continues Steve.

"I don't think I can without Mr. Happy Puppet Head," I tell them. "Good luck," I say as I try to close the door. But Steve puts a big blue monster hand against the door and holds it open.

"I don't think you were listening, we need all the people we can get, and you need all the help you can get." There are only three band-mates behind Bermuda and Steve. None of them are holding real instruments. There's a rake, a pez dispenser, and an empty roll of packing tape.

"I don't..." I look back into the house, hoping Mr. Happy Puppet Head will come back to help me. I turn back to Bermuda and Steve to find that Bermuda has turned into a Giant, with a regular sized Steve for a right side. Bermuda roars happily before toppling over, since it's hard to balance on only one giant leg. But then Steve turns into a giant, and they can once again stand upright with no problems. They eat the remaining three bandmates, and stomp away.

I close the door. "They're gone Mr. Happy Puppet Head," I call.

I fall over because the house shakes something awful. Dust falls from the ceiling and the furniture all flips over. I run to the back of the house and there is no back of the house, no walls or kitchen or anything. Just a giant Mr. Happy Puppet Head eating the picket fence.

"What're you doing, Mr. Happy Puppet Head?" I ask. But he just keeps eating. He looks happier than I've seen him for a long time.

I watch him eating and chomping away at our backyard and house. I shiver from cold.

But then I'm not so cold anymore, and eating the backyard sounds like a very good idea. That tree I used to like to sit under looks delicious. Like a big piece of gummy tree candy. My teeth itch to bite into it. And then it isn't so big a tree after all, and I can pick it up easily.

Wow.

This is great.

Eat eat eat. Chomp chomp chomp.

Friend Puppet Head, we go stomp. We go stomp. Fun. Stomp. Great.


Saturday, February 5



"Are you going to join?" asks Frederick with the horn on his head.

"Nah, I don't play anything," she replies.

"They say you don't have to know how," says Frederick. "Steve told me to just bang on something, like a tin can or cardboard."

"I don't know..." she looks down at her hooves. "I just don't get it. The whole thing. A stupid marching band isn't going to stop the giants or make the sun come out."

"I don't think that's the idea."

"Why don't we build some giant-traps?" she asks. "Then they'd stop smashing things if we could stop them from smashing things."

"No," he says. "The idea is to build community solidarity, for us to march through the streets banging on anything we can find and yelling in order to make our voices heard. That's what Steve and Bermuda said..."

"Maybe we could dig a big hole and cover it," she says, getting excited about the idea. "Like a tiger trap. Maybe put some spikes at the bottom so whatever falls in gets spiked dead."

"No, I think this marching band idea is better."

"Fine," she says. "Can I borrow your shovel?"

"Woa..." he says.

"Fred? Can I borrow it?"

"I feel kind of funny..."

Frederick starts growing really big. "Wait!" she yells up at her smiling friend as he steadily gains altitude. "Are you... Where's your shovel?"

But Frederick stomps away into the night, laughing like a little kid, without saying goodbye. He pulls a telephone pole out of the ground as he leaves, wires going everywhere, and catches someone's yard on fire.

Her first thought is "I should help put that fire out." Her second thought is, "No, I need to dig a hole to trap the giants." Her third thought, as she quickly digs the hole with her new giant-hands is, "This dirt is good. I'll eat lots of it." Which she does, quickly eating all the lawns on that particular street (the lawn wich was set fire to tasting the best). She has no more thoughts other that what fun it is to eat buildings, trees, cars, and tiny people.

Friday, February 4


Giants are everywhere. More keep appearing all the time. People taller than skyscrapers jumping around, laughing as they destroy everything, eating people and cars and buildings and whatever they can find. The ground shakes constantly from their walking around.

Howie the little girl and her pet old man head have had to stay inside for a long time, longer than they've ever had to before. Her parents are scared they'll get hurt by the giants, so aren't allowed to leave the house, not for school, not for playing in the front yard, nothing.



If they could go outside for adventures, it might make up for the fact that the sun hasn't come out for so long. But as it is, the two friends are about as miserable as they could be.

The house shakes as a giant skips by in front of her window, and all the books and toys from the shelves clatter to the floor. Howie sighs as she gently places her pet old man head on the bed as she leans down to clean up the mess.

"What if the sun never comes out again?" Howie asks her friend. "What if it's dark forever and ever and we can never go outside ever again?" She hadn't wanted to ask, but she did. Asking made it a possibility. Head stares up at the ceiling. "You're right," she says, turning back to putting things on the shelves. "Sorry."

As she continues organizing her belongings, she realizes that her room has gotten a lot smaller. Or rather, that she's gotten a lot bigger. She has trouble picking up the books with her enormous hands, and her head starts to brush against the ceiling.

Howie looks back at Head, now the size of a small car, just as her tiny bed collapses under his weight.

A slow smile creeps across her face. Looking at the scattering of books in her palm, she wonders why she had wanted to put them in the bookshelf. She wonders why she wanted a bookshelf. Then she forgets these questions as she tosses the books into her mouth and swallows them whole.

Smashing a hole through the wall, Howie the giant girl and her pet giant old man head step outside into the sub-freezing night. She gets tangled in the branches of a tree for a moment, before quickly growing much taller than the tree, and then eating the tree.

Their freedom is sweet, sweet like the taste of cars and trees and buildings, which they both now have a very strong hankering for.

Grabbing a chunk of her childhood home for a light snack, Howie and Head stomp off into the darkness, their darkness.

Thursday, February 3

A NEW MOVIE!

It's the long-awaited debut of Mr. Children-for-Hands.

Thank you for your patience.


It's been almost two weeks and still no sun. It's dark all the time and keeps getting colder and colder. But suprisingly everything has been pretty normal. People still go to work in the mornings, food is still aplenty in the local groceries, and I keep checking the mailbox in front of my house for exciting packages I have no reason to expect.

Everything's the same except for the constant darkness and coldness. And there are giants walking around everywhere eating trees and people and smashing things.

So here we are filming a brand new Educati-FUN video entitled "Being Safe in the Everlasting Darkness is Good"

So me and Mr. Happy Puppet Head have decided that there are several ways to keep yourself safe in this wasteland of freezing night, and still have fun.

First thing is to ARM YOURSELF HEAVILY. It's dark, so that means all the scary things have come out. The giants are just the most obvious ones. Grab a stick or a baseball bat with a nail in it or some sort of gun that shoots things dead. If you are alone, lash violently out at any sort of movement you see. Maybe give a little scream, too. If you are with a friend or companion, your first instinct might be to ask "should I make that thing dead?" before killing. Don't. Just make it dead.

Secondly, KEEP WARM. Beach parties are out. No more skinny-dipping in the lake, you sexy teenagers. Driving with the top down? no. Setting fires to keep warm? yes. Burn anything you can get your hands on, starting with the photo albums. Your family is dead and you should move on. If they aren't dead, you might as well get a head start on that mourning.

Mr. Happy Puppet Head would now like to say something special to you.

Go ahead Mr. Happy Puppet Head.

"I just think..." he blinks slowly, taking his time. "I just think that maybe eternal night isn't so bad. I stole this portable cassete tape player yesterday during one of those night-riots, and no one even got me in trouble. Now I can listen to my favorite jams all the time."

He clicks on the tape player and smoothe jazz blares from the headphones wrapped around his furry red head. His eyelids droop as he stares off into space.

See kids...

And then the earth shakes and the video camera falls over. We look up to see an enormous foot descending from the sky.



With lightning quick reflexes I leap out of the way. I grab for Mr. Happy Puppet Head, but he jerks backwards away from me.

The giant's foot comes down with a crash on top of my friend. I fall onto my back, and from the ground I can see the giant as he exits the scene, each step taking him several hundred yards away.

I lie on the ground, too scared to see what I hope didn't happen.

Mr. Happy Puppet Head?

Nothing.

Mr. Happy Puppet Head?

He still doesn't answer. I don't think I can stand back up if he doesn't answer.

I hear him groan. I sit up and see him lying on the ground. He rolls over and looks at me with glazed eyes for a moment before realizing his tape player has been smashed.

"God dammit!" he yells. He floats up to his normal height and throws his dangling headphones to the ground.

Watch out for giants, kids. They'll smash you and your things and your best friends like it's nothing. And you can't do anything about it.

Except maybe setting Giant Traps. Let me know if any of you know how to do that.

Wednesday, February 2

so sorry, kids. we've been having technical difficulties. we feel terrible, but there are new episodes ready and on the way.

tommorow, i promise.