Ugh. Batiuk’s characters are never worse than when they’re being smug and self-satisfied. Here Becky crows about the utterly stupid mattress sale, only to get to a pun that would be rejected by a chewing gum wrapper. And look at that writing: “our band” in panel two could have been replaced by “the” for a much smoother read. It’s like he really does think his readers will forget the band’s involvement between panel one and two.
As for Becky, I can’t think of a single positive aspect of her except one: she’s rarely around much.
Once again Chuck Ayers helms the pencils, leaving me to wonder if Batiuk’s in the hospital or something and the syndicate is having to rustle up some leftovers he had salted away. Or maybe Rick Burchett, having gotten his “Inedible Pulp” cover, decided he was better than this and decamped to brighter pastures.