Wednesday, November 28

Friday, November 16

Sometimes it's a lonely elephant.

Thursday, November 8

The astronaut just wouldn't stop talking.

Tuesday, October 30

The boy waved goodbye to his ghost friend. It was time to say goodbye, they both knew it, but knowing doesn't make it any easier.

Friday, August 3

(photo provided by the illustrious Mollie Brock)

Thursday, July 26

Wednesday, July 25

Tuesday, June 19

(photo courtesy of Aaron Barnes)

Wednesday, June 13

Tuesday, June 12

Monday, June 11

Friday, June 8

The Midnight Mailman and Mr. Happy Puppet Head in:

"Price Check on Aisle DANGER!"

Chapter TWO

(start from the BEGININNG!)

* * * *

When he’s done pissing on the water monster in the toilet, Mr. Happy Puppet Head says, “It’s all yours,” and bobbles away, leaving me alone in the most terrifying public bathroom I have ever been in. I’m about to follow my friend out when I realize my bladder is suddenly painfully full. Too much tangy lukewarm water fountain, I guess.

I look at the toilet and the angry monster. It snaps its translucent teeth at me and thrashes about. It briefly occurs to me I could just piss on the floor, but I disregard this as totally out of the question. I’m in a grocery store.

I stand a few feet from the toilet, just out of bite’s reach. Junk in hand, I raise it to the demon. My entire body is taut, eyes blinking furiously behind my goggles.

I can do this. I can.

Urinating on a monster sounds easier than it actually is.

Seconds crawl. I strain to listen for anyone else who might come into the bathroom to catch me in my cowardice. If someone were to come in, I’d pretend to finish and leave quickly without making eye contact. But I can’t hear anything over the creature’s insistent splashing.

I can do this. I expel liquid waste through my urethra all the time. Why should it matter if something’s trying to kill me as I do it?

I sigh heavily. I can’t do this.

I zip up and back carefully out the door. It’ll take maybe twenty minutes to get home. I can handle that.

I’ll be happy as long as I never have to go into that bathroom again.

I find Mr. Happy Pupet Head in the Damaged Aerosol Food section. Four severely dented cans of Spray Cheese for the price of one. Amazing.

Thursday, June 7

It's hard to breathe because of the smell.

"Knock yourself out, kid," says the man. "I'll be back in a few minutes to check on you."

Cinder stands staring at the lump of decaying carcass. "Soother? Is that you?" His friend doesn't answer. Things without faces rarely respond when their names are called, as our hero is fast learning.

Despite the stench, Cinder grabs a hug on his corpse friend and cries a little. They had had such great times together.

"Goodbye, Soother," he sniffs. "See you later."

The sun outside burns his eyes. He wipes away his tears and looks up at the man. "I'm ready."

"Hop in then," the door to the van swings open and the pair drives off to meet their destiny at Squiggly Jenny's Packing Plant.

(photo courtesy of Victoria Warren)

Wednesday, May 16

photo courtesy of Will Sanders in China (

Monday, May 14

Wednesday, May 9

The Midnight Mailman and Mr. Happy Puppet Head in:

"Price Check on Aisle DANGER!"

Chapter ONE

* * * *

At the local B&S, items are marked drastically down.

None of the cans in the canned food aisle have labels on them. Instead, they are divided into three sections with signs demarcating which section is which. Our options are "Good," "Edible," and "No."

Bread items are piled onto one large squished, stale, moldy display.

The Vegetables are shriveled and the fruit is bruised. Lettuce looks like Oregano and Pears like Avocados. There are no Tomatos anywhere.

The samples are dumped in a pile on the floor.

A frightened squirrel is somehow tied to my shopping cart.

The woman behind the Deli Counter stares vacantly at me, her hands wrapped in soiled plastic gloves, her hair in a net. I point and ask her what a specific item is, exactly. She shrugs her shoulders and blinks. “It’s fried chicken with Bar-B-Que sauce on it.” I ask her how old it is and she says she doesn’t’ know.

Next to the worst Bar-B-Que chicken ever are various chunks of animals wrapped tightly in shrink-wrap. Some look like whole animals, fur and all. I don’t ask her about these.

Mr. Happy Puppet Head is chewing on something. I ask him what it is and where he got it.

“From the sample pile over there,’ he gestures behind him.

“That’s a trash pile,” I tell him.

“No, it’s pretty good.” He crunches loudly on whatever garbage he’s decided is food. Bits of lint and part of a dirty napkin cling to his mustache. “Where’s the bathroom?”

We find that someone has barricaded the men’s bathroom with a large pile of label-less cans of food. “I guess we’ll have to wait ‘til we get home,” I shrug.

“Yeah right. I have to piss.” He knocks over much of the pile and yanks the door open with his teeth. I follow, fighting for my balance as I make my way over all the cans.

Inside, the air is bitter and chill. There is only one toilet sitting in the far left corner of the surprisingly large, dimly lit room. Six inches of water covers the floor and I can see that the walls are layered with dark mold. A drip drip drip from the sink echoes loudly.

I don't like this room at all.

“This place sucks.” As Mr. Happy Puppet Head bobbles to the toilet, a Water Monster lunges from the filthy porcelain with a WHOOSH! It snaps jagged water-teeth furiously at the air directly in front of my friend, growling and frothing all over the place.

I jump straight backwards, diving for the door. My feet slip from under me and I crash to the floor in a soggy pile of cans and rolls of waterlogged toilet paper. “Mr. Happy Puppet Head!” I shout.

Mr. Happy Puppet Head stops and studies the translucent horror in front of him, miraculously standing inches outside of the monster’s reach.

“Wait your turn, dick-stain,” as he starts pissing his candy-smelling puppet urine all over the snarling Monster. “Hey, you think that girl at the Deli Counter wants me? I like older chicks with braces.”

End Chapter ONE.

Thursday, May 3

from the EXCITEMENT Marble Composition Book Collection.

Thursday, April 26

"Let's go!" says Diego. "Let's go into the jungle right now and wrestle that Computer right out of that Dinosaur's filthy claws!"

Diego Junior blinks rapidly. "I don't know... that Dinosaur said the computer was his, and if we went after him that he'd use the computer to Math us into Infinity."

"Aw, that's just Dino-Talk." Diego grabs Diego Junior and drags him towards the Jungle.



The landscape is barren. The dirt and the sky are dull shades of grey, blending smoothly together at the horizon.

"This place is great!" Diego hops around in circles, stomping up little dust clouds.

"There's nothing to do here," mumbles Diego Junior. "I miss my computer games."



Infinity found new friends today in Diego and Diego Junior. As they resign their respectivelly excited and bored selves in the vast wasteland of nowhere, we are reminded of something. This something is more important than video games and computers. Even more important than board games, puzzle games, comic book games, and French Toast.

That thing is Electronic Video French Puzzle Toast Comic Games.

Love is pretty good, too, but just doesn't have the same entertaining sugary crunch.

Wednesday, April 25

"I'm not sleeping over anymore if you buy it," Marta his girlfriend had told him.

The salesman had been very good. "It's cheaper than a TV, and that smell prevents infestations of the home."

"Is it dangerous?"

"Only if it bites you. Or gets on top of you and suffocates you. Otherwise no."

That night, alone in his apartment, Leo had first been bitten, then suffocated by his new purchase. The money he saved from not buying a TV was inherited by his adolescent nephew who spent it on his school lunches over the course of several months.

Nephew also inherited the Stink Monster, but kept it in the basement and never even played with it.

Tuesday, April 24

He told her a story of avarice and vice,
Of things that should never
Be spoken to mice.

Monday, April 23

Illicit dealings.

Saturday, April 21

Monday, April 16

There is a door next to the front door of your house. Outside there is only one, but inside there are two. While one leads to the outside world, the other leads to a confusingly bizzare alternate dimension. It's a funny trick to play on guests.

"Oh, no, that's the closet," lie to the Preacher as he reaches for the real door. He'll apologize quietly and step through the other door. He won't immediately understand that he isn't in the Regular World anymore. He'll stop at the melting mailbox and wave to you, smiling. You'll wave and smile back. He'll make his way down the sidewalk not yet realizing that the trees are spinning slowly around and around.

That night you'll be awoken by his distant, echoing screams. "Stop! I understand the irony! I'll change! I can change! Leave me alone! No! No!" He trails off with hysterical sobbing.

You smile and roll over in your big comfy bed. "I love you, Alternate Dimension," you'll think before falling soundly asleep.

It isn't cheap having one of those doors installed, but it's always been a dream of yours. Ever since you became a big shot in the entertainment industry, you've really tricked out your house. There's a ball-pit room, a hamster-tube maze big enough to fit you and your obese friends, the dining room with lush grass growing where the carpet should be, instead of a refrigerator you have a hamburger vending machine, and of course, the trick front door. The place may have a funny dead-body smell during the summer and terrible plumbing problems, but it's your dream home and you love it.

When the cops come, tell them the preacher left last week. They ask to look around, and when they don't find anything, tell them, "No, that door goes to the basement. That one's the way out."

Wednesday, March 28

Send your cartoons to our first ever Animation Attack animated film festival.

We love your cartoons for our festival.

Tuesday, March 27

Monday, March 12

Thursday, March 8

Monday, February 26

The robot movie I worked on. I did the animations and some other small things. The ingenious Tak Masuda directed.

The jump rope movie I helped rig blood on. The ineffable Blake Myers directed.

Monday, February 19

this is a still I made for my friend Tak Masuda's new movie "I Stand Alone." It has robots.

Thursday, February 8

Tuesday, February 6

Monday, February 5

Friday, February 2

These pieces were commissioned by a guy named Milford Thomas, a very talented and nice guy, who is making a movie. Click above to see his MySpace page.

Thursday, February 1

Wednesday, January 31

this was my contribution to what I think is a really cool website

This is what the site says:

"In 1978, Jim Davis began a newspaper comic strip called "Garfield". For almost thirty years, this strip has endured, primarily because its inoffensive, storyless humour is immediately accessible. It is, if not quite the Lowest Common Denominator of the comic world, at least as close to it as one can get without being obviously mediocre.

The comic changes dramatically when one removes the thought bubbles.

"Garfield" changes from being a comic about a sassy, corpulent feline, and becomes a compelling picture of a lonely, pathetic, delusional man who talks to his pets. Consider that Jon, according to Garfield canon, cannot hear his cat's thoughts. This is the world as he sees it. This is his story.

As there are over 13,000 Garfield strips, transcribing all of Arbuckle is too great a job for one man. But, as the scripts are already available, I have elected to outsource it. Anyone can make an Arbuckle strip by simply redrawing an existing Garfield strip and rendering it as realistically as possible, given the material. These are first-come-first-served, so check to see if the strip you want to draw is already taken before you start."

Tuesday, January 30

Thursday, January 18

(doughnuts courtesy of XTX)

Friday, January 12

Thursday, January 11

from the "To Do List Notebook That Sits on My Desk At Work" Collection

Tuesday, January 9

this is part of a top secret project I'm developing.

Monday, January 8

from the Notebook I Keep in my Back Pocket Collection.

Tuesday, January 2

Monday, January 1

Happy New Year Time.