Comic Book Harriet here, wanting to say it’s been an awesome week to cut my teeth on guest writing. Thanks for all the laughs and comments. I toss the reins into the very capable Beckoning Chasm, whose vast echoey goodness will see us through whatever hijinks are to come.
But before that. I have to make sense of…of…whatever this strip means.
Guys. I think Becky has kind of lost it. I mean Band Turkeys was always kind of a wacky idea. But it made a certain amount of sense. Most people eat eat, and thus buy, turkeys around the holidays. If a school has a tradition of selling Band Turkeys as a fundraiser, then people will anticipate it and buy their turkeys from the band. They were going to have to buy a turkey after all… and now they won’t have to feel guilty for turning down horrible dextrose based band sweets that have to have every word spelled wrong for legal reasons. I’ll take a marginal mark-up on a frozen brick of bird meat over something called Chocklatey Kandy Shugar Knuggets.
But mattresses? Why? I mean, the shipping alone has to be a fortune! And people don’t use a mattress up every year. I spent 20 years sleeping on a mattress as old as my parents… Are these disposable holiday mattresses for people who shopped and ate too much? Will they be burned on New Year’s even in a huge toxic bonfire of latex foam and polyfill? I can see the teetering mountain of blackened rusting springs looming over the Westview landfill for years.
What I’m saying is that a good use for those mattresses would be to build a padded cell for Becky. Heck it looks like you could build an entire padded maze. That would keep her occupied for days. Long enough to get a judge to sign papers to have her committed.