Over hot chocolate (turns out Cayla, sadly, was not being suggestive), Les spins a riveting yarn of being stuck on the tarmac in Houston, getting in yet another mention of that damn infernal “dead” phone. Nary a word, though, about the “dead” wife whose dire warning he chose to ignore.
What’s harder to ignore is the background in panel 1. What the hell is that on the wall? Abstract art? A broken mirror? Snowflake cutouts that Summer made in first grade?
TB’s penchant for never drawing Summer the same way twice continues. Who is that heavy-lidded, slack-jawed boy in panel 2?
And Cayla, bringin’ “some hot chocolate”? Mmm-hmmm. Rent a room, you two!
When what to their wondering eyes should appear…it’s Les, home safe and sound. To the astonishment of absolutely no one, TB has gone to great lengths to build intrigue, with no payoff, none whatsoever. Hard to believe the erstwhile hall monitor has the strength to hoist his strapping daughter with a rib-cracking hug, but anyway.
The tension not only has Cayla biting her fingernails, but causes her hair to stick straight out from her head. Oh, wait…that’s how her hair always looks.
You know something? For the folks who only read the funnies on Sunday, Funky Winkerbean is still a “comic” strip. Sunday-only readers have been spared the oil spill cleanup, Funky’s physical therapy and nursing-home visit, Wally’s battle with PTSD, the rescue-dog thingy, the grueling band turkey sale, and most of the never-ending book tour. The Sunday Funkiverse offers tales of Scapegoat football and girls’ hoops, Funky picking out a car, Mr. Kablichnik and his wacky class…and now today, with Les lying amongst plane wreckage for all we know, it’s time for Band Hi-Jinks.
Son of Stuck Funky 
