Yeah, I can imagine Les Moore, super-athlete, dragging a typewriter, desk and chair up to Montoni’s roof. Then, of course, I can easily imagine him hanging off the roof to run a long extension cord through a window to power the typewriter. Then I imagine him pouring a cool lemonade, cracking his knuckles, poising his fingers over the keys, and being carried off by a Space Pterodactyl. I made up the last part myself, and I hope I’ll be forgiven if I say it’s my favorite bit.
Do we really, truly need any more of Tom Batiuk writing love letters to himself? Hasn’t it already been established that he thinks Les Moore is the greatest character in the history of literature? You might say, “He has to help new readers understand this” but can you actually imagine a new reader who says “Hang on, this Les guy is pretty cool! I think this is my favorite comic strip”? I can’t, myself, but I think I’ve just thought of a great way to get out of jury duty!
Lastly, and most germane to today’s strip…groan. Double secret groan. Are there any puns in the world worse than those of Les Moore? Yet look at those two chuckleheads, guffawing as if they’re listening to George Carlin or David Cross or even that dumb cousin of yours who tells those stupid knock-knock jokes. Or maybe they’re laughing at a knife-wielding serial killer coming up behind Les, in which case this is the greatest Funky Winkerbean ever.