May 17, 2010 at 12:39 pm
…I just hope tomorrow doesn’t bring a down-trodden-looking Cayla skulking away without letting them know she’s there.
Les, you pathetic, cringing little milksop. “Actually, I did think Cayla might call…guess she has no time for poor me…” Susan, your plan worked perfectly: show up just a couple ticks ahead of Les’ woman, engage in a friendly toast…not allowing her to catch you naked together or anything; that would force a confrontation (and she would no doubt mop the floor with you). Nope, just send her away with a sheepish look on her face, and you’ll soon have Les all to yourself.




Les’ masterpiece continues its inexorable, glacial slide toward seeing the light of day in print. Following their meeting about nothing (at least he didn’t have to hop a plane for this one), Les’ face still bears that self-satisfied smirk; that is, until panel 3, where he recoils in horror as Will Underwood leans in a little too close to deliver the punchline.