First, And now, the trump card shall be played.
You application for first has been received and denied because of not meeting the ten word limit. You have however been granted claimants rights on any mineral and oil rights to be obtained from this property referred to primarily in this application of firsting as a substitute prize instead.
you only needed one more word….tragic.
Betca it’s either in fatfat’s box or stomach.
It’s in the air ducts!
The real question is: What is it? It’s tiny, yet has a tracking method? Is it, er, Is secret from days of cold war? Is missile codes? Is key to restroom at gas station?
The container was dipped in a radioactive isotope. 1 inch roughly, judging by his business attire.
Maybe it’s his missing tie clip, and he is anxious to reunite his favorite outfit?
One can only do so much sartorially with your personal irradiated turquoise tie clip from the Trinity Site.
He’s looking for audio bugs. That’s what I understand from the last time he showed up, anyway.
Smoking while on the air machine… Classy
The layout of this comic is a Little hard to read.
I had to read it twice.
Be like every one else, read it multiple times. Archive dive. Membership is only a few words a month and checked by entry through the Top Web Comic passkey black box just above the Patreon peeks on the right side of your screen immediately precceding Ashliii, the sign in for hard core users and something else.
No, really, you have to use that black box every day.
The extra oxygen makes the smoke all tingly when it gets into the lungs…
The. Colored balloons seem to indicate the flow path today instead of traditional panel orientation.
Cigar wasn’t lit.
Oxygen + tobacco. There are urban legends about flash fires in the lungs.
That urban legend does not hold much merit though. And it doesn’t take a lot of scientific knowledge to get to that conclusion.
It happens 95% of the time that a hybrid running on formulated recovered french fry oil is driven by a person at the O’Jacks drive through.
But only because that’s where they refuel. And a filled tank only lasts them two blocks worth.
Yes, hello. Sorry, we just rented that unit to some crazy canadian chick with a sword and tongue lashed husband with a website here in town to hold dating conventions for comic book nerds. Here’s their web address. Date-a-nerd.biz
My only regret is that that’s not a real website.
Hello there. Just want to wish you and your family a Happy Thanksgiving seeing that this is likey the comic that will get us thru this holiday. Have a good one and keep them black Friday killing to a minimum.
Blondes may have more fun.. but the brunette is more fiesty!
Blondes have more fun. Brunettes are more fun.
It was his most favorite paperclip. It held the pages together perfectly, better than a staple, or a binder even. Never would they detach, unless you wanted them to. If and when that time came, it detached quietly and deliberately, never catching on the pages or scratching them. It was the best paperclip a Tired Old Guy could ever hope for.
It was unbendable by any force other than the sheer will of its user and also their fingers. If you had to bend it out of shape to pick a lock, or catch a fish, or unclog a pen after leaving the cap off overnight – all of these tasks, among others, it executed flawlessly – you could easily bend it back to its original form every time, a hundred times over with no loss of durability.
It truly was the kind of paperclip that you see only once in a lifetime – a very long lifetime, by the looks of him.
When he was a little boy growing up in a small cabin in the mountains, the paperclip was there. When his family lost everything and he had to work three jobs while finishing grade school to help his parents out, the paperclip was there. It saved his marriage. It saved his life in the war. It saved spring break.
I guess what I’m trying to say is that it’s a pretty good paperclip, and he kinda wants to find it.
You know, life is like a box of paperclips.
You never know what you’ll get.
I’ll buy that for a dollar.
That paperclip really held the script together.
Any script held together by The Paperclip would see instant success when shown to a producer. But would the paperclip take any credit? Well, what do you think?
Speaking of dollars, Tired Guy always knew he could trust his best most dependable and perfect paperclip as a makeshift moneyclip. He knew it would never lose his money, or steal from him, spending it behind his back. The paperclip was always true to him.
I mean, there was the one time when it borrowed a couple hundreds for a risky investment, but it turned out to be a lucky investment – oh who am I kidding it wasn’t luck, the paperclip knew exactly what it was doing – earning enough money to be able to rent all of the units in an entire apartment complex, with more than enough left over to buy a cool hat and cigar. And did the paperclip keep any of it? Nope. Not a penny.
I’m really trying hard not to undersell this paperclip you see.
The antithesis, nemesis even, of the paperclip I was describing. Some day the two will meet and will battle. Many will perish.
Oh, you would know, if you already had this paperclip in your possession: you would get a box of worthless junk that, even with every clip in the box living up to its true potential, will never satisfy you, will never meet your expectations, will never be anything more than just a thing that you bought at Office Depot only out of “necessity” and then forgot about moments later. Imagine how hard it would be to go through the rest of your life, as Tired Guy has (with his own life, not yours of course), being jaded on paperclips.
It’d be kind of a weird feeling..?
That was supposed to be in response to Lukkai above.
Damn you comments section, your confounding logic has made me the fool once again!
That’s one of the basic duties of the comments section. It is to keep us humble and modest.
I’d laugh if what they’re looking for is in McFatFat’s litter, which is in the trash, which was still in the apt. when “Wilf” did his check (in my experience the trash is the very last to go when moving flats), which “Merrick” then tosses into the dumpster without thinking to check it ’cause he’s preoccupied with cursing out Quinn under his breath for not doing it herself, (or Quinn does toss it) and they don’t realise until later what happened and rush outside to see the garbage truck pulling away.
(run on sentence anyone?)
McFatFat’s litter is a good possibility. He hoovered up things from the ceiling and got into the vents and ate the animatronic monstrosity hanging out there. Purposefully or not, him hoovering it up is a good possibility.
I’ve never seen a man so determined to find a paperclip before. Tired Guy must really hate Clippy.
A man who hates Clippy that much can’t be all bad.
Dammit, I had a similar joke, but yours is better.
“It looks like you are trying to corporealize me. Do you want to beat me senseless and bury me in a deep pit?”
– Just yes already
Obviously, the cat ate it. Whatever ‘it’ is.
Can’t argue with Beeped and Booped…
Pseudonyms for Quinn and Ellie..?
Perhaps is Soviet version of bleeps, sweeps, and creeps? Dah?
Now available on dvd!
Complete series. Episodes 1 and 2.
For anyone else who checks this site more often than the email given to Patreon, Patreon has updated with the conclusion of the Pumpkin-Quinn storyline. Author comment includes some exposition by Rusche about the storyline and its origins.
Thanks for the heads-up! The Patreon comic was pretty damn awesome and wrapped up beautifully.
I go months between checking the e-mail I gave Patreon, so I don’t notice such things sometimes myself.
I used a throw away sub email address for patreon.
Evil Indiana Jones?
In Soviet Russia, Evil Indiana Jones chases boulder up hill, into fire pit and stares down the nazi’s when they melt.
Njet! His stare is what melts nazi!
Happy Thanksgiving everyone. I am thankful for our gracious host and artist, for our fellowship as a community, and for those who have graciously given their time to converse and be friendly with me.
TURKEY DAY THURSDAY!!! NO throwback Thursdays today!!! The leftovers are for tomorrow.
ah dam he’s gonna go all mafia on the scumbag
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