“Don’t talk to me about whoring, you little wimp! I survived on the streets of New York God Damn City for years!” Anyway, do we really need to see the word “whore” in the funny papers? Especially used by Les to describe himself? We’ve seen him give one interview only to get derailed two questions in. Boo frickin’ hoo. Man up, beardo.
We know she’s a reporter because she’s holding a little notepad and pen (judging by the way she’s holding it, that could also be a chopstick ). And Les is ready for his interview: he leans suavely against the counter, the suede patch on the elbow of his professorial jacket absorbing the grease of a thousand pizzas, his eyebrows at perfect 45-degree angles…then Sweet Polly Purebred’s second question stops him dead in his tracks. I can’t figure out what Les means by “How old are you?” Is it only young journalists who ask insipid, pointless questions? Do only people who’ve lived a certain number of years comprehend cancer? Is he…hitting on her?
In the background, Apple Annie pretends to have a cell phone conversation using what is really an eyeglass case…must keep up appearances!
Looks like the Book Launch is about to commence. Funky has brought out a table skirt to transform the pizza parlor into an upscale literary den. All the significant (living) females in the Life of Les are here: long-suffering Cayla, relentless stalker Susan, dutiful daughter Summer, and his “agent slash publicist” slash former bag lady, Ann Apple. Lisa is present too (when is she not?): this time in the (somber) cover art for the book. Except for the pink color, that book cover looks kind of familiar…
It’s amazing that Apple Annie had the money for a plane ticket: apparently she owns only one outfit (that damn pink jacket).
“Don’t look back: something might be gaining on you.” Funky disregards the advice of the great Satchel Paige, and frets about the old lady and the stroller mom who are hot on his heels. He should be more worried about Masky McDeath catching up with him.
As he did last week with the name “Jitters Coffee Shop”, TB once again manages to squeeze in the link to lisaslegacyfund.org. Oh well, I guess it’s for a good cause.
I told you it was a murder plot! For all you snarkers who wondered what became of Cell Phone Girl: there she is in panel one, talking on her cellphone (natch), just waiting for her cue to run Funky’s fat ass into the ditch, this time for good.
And for those of you (suckers) who are still looking for any kind of linear continuity in the Funkiverse: the last time jump was three years ago next week…Funky was (supposed to be) 46 years old. So despite how old Batiuk makes him look, he wouldn’t even be fifty yet (his birthday is ostensibly in late March), let alone “in” his fifties. Oh well, it sets up the “punchline”.
Son of Stuck Funky 
