Tag: coffee

Why Darin and Jessica made it back to the city in ohio called westview, thanks.

Like the way a screenwriter hits plot points like a grocery list, or how a baseball player touches all four bases while recording what is accepted as a run, our story arc checks all the fun boxes that make FW what it is. Smirk? Check. Thorough research? Check. ‘Cute’ punchlines? Not yet. Today’s milepost: exposition placed on stilts as high as the moon. In honor of such eloquence, this humble author will do the same…that is to say, put this post on stilts, too. Rather than succinctly say he saw the layoff coming and therefore took the lead parachute, Darin mentions that the writing on the wall was in fact done by hand; pausing in the middle to explain to us what he is doing with his jittery, withdrawal-addled hands. Such a scenario begs the observation: of course he took the offer, the handwriting on the wall said “we’re letting you go with this small severance – unless you go to rehab.” Would he have cleaned himself up? With that cocaine happy MBA degree of his? I think not. The encouragement is welcome, but also confusingly returned with nonsensical jibberish about how that won’t help feed his five dollar per day latte habit sold at starbucks. Speaking of which, thanks for feeding that habit, Les. Why not head over to Montoni’s with a box of rum balls next? Sure, Darin’s habit began innocently as a way to get face time with his boss and fit in at the office, but such efforts to parlay favor didn’t pay off…and now Darin is left holding the coffee bean bag…that sweet, sweet bag full of coffee.

Stropp Dead

Here’s the strip.

Oh, man. The cancer’s back. In the space of seven panels, The Writer reaches back into FW’s warmly-remembered Act I to bring forward a minor character and then kill him with the Big C. What? You don’t remember “John Stropp”? Maybe you remember him as Coach Jack Stropp. Get it now? But why does Les look so sad? He never played football. I guess Lisa’s experience makes him extra-simpatico towards other victims of the dread disease. Or…could the wheels in Les’ head be starting to turn? Hmmm: Stropp’s Story. Could be a book deal here!

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Is that Summer, wearing her Dad’s green shirt? Nah, it’s Our Pete, slaving away over his “Pineapple” laptop (I thought Pete’d be more of a Pear guy). He spent all afternoon “Googling” himself, eh? So that’s what the young people are calling it these days. I wonder what kind of faces TB makes when he Googles himself?

Pete’s disembodied head in panel one resembles Porch Boy from Deliverance in a Summer Moore wig…