As usual, the Sunday strip wasn’t available for preview. Normally I would try to tough it out till midnight, just to make sure whatever horrors Sunday brings are properly commented on. However, the strain of trying to find amusement in drying paint has finally broken me, and I’ve come down with the Westview flu. Not as deadly as the Spanish flu, maybe, but virulent in it’s ability to sap me of energy, leaving me with a headache, and slightly nauseous. So pretty much what you would expect after spending two weeks with Les Moore.
Here’s hoping that it’s not able to be transmitted through the interwebs, because Beckoning Chasm is taking over for me tomorrow, and I’d hate to think I had contaminated the controls.
Goodnight, and Good Luck.
Son of Stuck Funky 
A fittingly lame denouement for a rather benign story arc.
Nate’s smile hides nothing here, he’s not joking at all. Like everyone at Westview High, he hates his job, his students, and his coworkers.
I’ve never seen so many punchable faces at one time. At least he managed to keep the tables populated the same from frame to frame.
His wife is the happiest lady in town, cause he is never home.
I’m just glad they drew Lefty in such a way that we didn’t see that pinned up sleeve. Usually they go out of their way to show it.
You didn’t miss much. It’s just another reminder that the high school is staffed by gloomy timeservers waiting for sweet, sweet Death.
What a bleak worldviewTomBa has proposed in today’s summary strip. Is he really this devoid of hope and joy?
It’s the last panel, where it looks like he and Cayla are about to start making out, that really disturbs me.
Well, he’s obviously chewing something, but his hot dog is intact. Here’s hoping his mouth is full of bloody Chiclets.
“Ugh, in just seven more months I gotta churn out another year of these tedious joyless strips…sigh”. This one is a little too autobiographical for comfort. This guy really needs to get the hell out of mid-central Ohio once in a while.