I’m a little surprised by Les’ reaction to this mysterious call, given how much time we’ve seen him spend with his late wife. But he’s clearly pissed: his eyebrows, which we usually see arrayed in a smug arch, are now furiously working out of sync, and Les’ is baring his bottom teeth. I especially like panel two, where a disbelieving Silhouette Les seems to peer into the earpiece to see who is this really.
Whoa! I had little lines flying out of my head too, when I saw today’s strip. Has the pressure of being a famous author finally driven Les around the bend? Also: white courtesy phone? Lisa doesn’t have his number?
Gah! While we’re waiting to find out who’s calling Les on the White Courtesy Phone, TB “treats” us to another of Tony Montoni’s wacky holiday postcards. On the plus side, at least this time Tony is not posing in old lady drag. The downside? He’s showing us his legs. Are those the reflections of Florida palms on the water, or is it the lingering residue from last spring’s oil rig disaster?
The ol’ “low battery” conversation-ender, eh, Les? I usually go the “kssshhhh! kssshhhh! You’re breaking up kssshhhh!” fake-static route when I’m trying to cut a cell phone call short.
Doesn’t Les know that in the Funkiverse, to note the absence of “any problems” is to bid them appear? It’s called jinxing yourself. The White Courtesy Phone doesn’t need batteries, Les…and it tolls for you.
Seriously. I can’t take it anymore. We get it: people love cancer stories and the men who write them. I went back and counted: this is the seventh strip depicting adoring fans lining up to kiss Les’ literary ass. Seems like there have been a lot more than that. Ponderous, man, effin’ ponderous. Today’s groupie is sporting the “pink with black scribbles” jacket made popular by Ann Apple!
Son of Stuck Funky 
