“It just so happens, Linda, that I have some copies of my Lisa’s Story trilogy out in the car! Since you’re a grieving widow, I can give you a discount of twen…uh, twelve percent, and I’ll be more than pleased to autograph them!”
You know, hot coffee tends to heat up a coffee mug. That’s why they have handles, so you don’t have to grab a hot coffee mug and burn your hand. So what is Linda doing in panel three? Is she trying to burn Les’ hand? If so, she’s my new favorite character.
It’s also cool if she’s saying, “I’m going to drink both of these coffees. I hope you got something from the drive-through.” Even cooler would be if she’s going to throw both cups in Les’ face. I’m going to stop now because reality will be too disappointing.
ADDENDUM: I just now noticed…Batiuk has finally corrected the spelling on his webzone! It no longer says “Bantom.”
Son of Stuck Funky 
“Can you put that in writing? With a time limit on it? Because I don’t see you getting better, you morbid vulture, and I might take you to court when your guarantee falls flat.”
How bad-off is Linda? She’s desperate enough to invite Les in, but has she sunk to the point where she has Family Circus clippings on her refrigerator door?
As long as she doesn’t sink to the point where she has Crankshaft clippings on her fridge… for that is truly the point of no return.
It takes a long time to
profit off of your spouse’s deathfeel better…I mean, yeah, when you write like Les does. Linda, for all her faults, knows this and rightly mocks Les for it.
It’s Atomik Komix’s newest title: “Les Moore – Grief Counselor”. His superpowers include feigning empathy and knowing everything. Perhaps Linda could be his sidekick…”Misery Girl”. They could wander around Ohio together, looking for local newspaper obituary sections to comb through.
“It’s the Grief Phone, sir.”
“Yes commissioner?”
“Benjamin Dover, age 49, died suddenly at home yesterday. He is survived by his wife, Eileen. Sounds pretty tragic.”
“To the Grief Poles!”
I can’t wait to see the county coroner turn on the Batiuk signal: a searchlight that puts out pure darkness.
“Uh, Cayla? LInda and I just remembered we have our widow/widower support group tonight, so we have to go.”
“Oh, you two, always so busy with your grieving.”
“Whew, close one, Les.”
I still choose to believe that Cayla left Les months ago, and he hasn’t noticed yet.
Black Sabbath had a song about that–“Electric Funeral.” The lyrics started
“Reflex in the sky warn you you’re gonna die
Storm coming, you’d better hide from the atomic tide
Flashes in the sky turns houses into sties
Turns people into clay, radiation minds decay.”
The radiation must have come from Polonium-210.
I see what you did.
Then they speed off in the Smirkmobile
“It takes a long time to feel better. Lisa croaked 20 years ago. I’d say I’ve moved on in a healthy way. Except for how I pretend to meet up with Lisa on the park bench. Oh, and the time I pretended to dance with her on New Years Eve while two LIVING women fought over me. And maybe there’s that annual Fun Run I obsess over every year. And I guess there are the thirteen books and one movie I’ve written about her. Wait, then there’s the Lisa Larceny Fund I run to try to separate gullible idiots like Duhren from their money. And I constantly speculate on what Lisa would have liked. Aaaand I work her into every conversation, like this one. And to be fair, I constantly let, uh, that woman who hangs around my house know how she can’t do anything as well as Lisa. And yeah, I do sit around every day watching those videos she made. And I sleep in her underwear. But other than all that, I’m over her. I’ve moved on.”
“Please get the fuck out of here, Les.”
Again, this is all so emotionally confusing. Les Moore, who’s made a career out of not getting over his wife’s death 10 years ago, is consoling Linda, who never once gave a ahit about her husband’s death last month.
Actually, I hope Linda wants advice from Les on how to make a book career out of Bull’s death. That would actually make sense.
You know a book is coming out of this. We just don’t know if Les is going to write it alone, write it with Linda or (gah!) be the wind beneath her wings as she writes it. Because really, what good is a spouse if you can’t flog misery porn about them after they die?
Yep… saw this coming like a charging elephant.
The Bull Story in 3 parts.
Here’s the thing: Les doesn’t realize that he’s a morbid shmo who will never get over his wife’s death. Les’s utter lack of awareness extends to himself.
If Linda really wants to deal with her issues concerning Bull’s death, the only thing she should get from Les is the name of the therapist he was seeing. The first post time jump arc of Act 3 had him on an analysts’s couch recounting his grief immediately following her death a decade previously.
And once she has that therapist’s name, she should avoid him and get competent help.
The art today is absolutely abysmal. Les in panel three has cheap tiny mannequin arms. And Les in panel one appears to be noshing on Linda’s countertops.
Let us add Grief to the list of things the Author does not understand.
And if there was a less qualified person to talk to anybody about how to deal with a loss it’s Les, who has made such a fetish object out of his dead wife i wouldn’t be shocked to discover he has a shrine to Lisa including a statue of Lisa in butter. Also it’s been at most weeks since Bull’s death. Really this isn’t time to be talking about how it gets better unless of course Les doesn’t want to hear about anybody else’s pain, which is in keeping with his character.