Well, that was a good run….

So, it has finally happened.  I actually expected to have happened sooner, but it didn’t until now.  I forgot to do my daily blog.  Not once, but twice!  It just didn’t happen this weekend.  

 

There are two very important things to note here.  First off, there was nothing requiring me to do my blogs daily, besides my own personal ambitions.  I said I was going to blog daily, and I did.  On my own volition.  I didn’t set up reminders or alarms or calendar events.  I just did them.  Until this weekend.

 

The second thing is I just forgot.  I literally forgot!  I wasn’t intentionally ignoring, neglecting or procrastinating on this.  I just got behind on my fan comic, so all my attention was focused on it.  While I’m my own rule maker, I don’t feel an ounce of disappointment.  It happened, life happens.  I was very productive those two days so I have no regrets.  

 

With how much I am loving working on this fan comic, I predict more forgotten blog days to come; its bound to happen.  And that’s okay.

Terabyte goodbyes.

So, I had to break up with Weebly. But it wasn’t them, it was apparently me. In hindsight, I realized that my fan comic might be too dark and twisty for their terms of service. So, I asked them. 

Me: So….. I was thinking, later on, in my web comic, uh, things might get dark and twisty. 
Host: We don’t do dark and twisty.
Me: What if I just upgrade to my own domain name through your website? Then my dark and twisties won’t be associated with your name, right? Would that be cool?
Host: Noo….. We can’t touch dark and twisty with a ten foot ether cable. That just won’t work.
Me: ….But I like you….. 
Host: You know, there are other web hosts that use our builder and they will be more accepting of your twisties. Ask them out.
Me: But…. I don’t want them, I’d have to redo everything…. I want you… I need you!!!! 
Host: Ummm… Thanks for being a valued customer? OKbai! *disconnect*

…
..
.

Me: *whispers* I love you Weebly. 
#cry

When instant satisfaction has to wait.

I like instant satisfaction.  Its why I love cooking but hate baking.  It’s why I prefer fast food to sit down restaurants.  It’s why I sleep in instead of work out.  I like things here and now, and if that isn’t how it is, I let Future Me worry about it.  So, it’s literally painful working on this comic.  I want to share my whole story NOW!  

 

Yesterday, during lunch, in one hour I wrote the outline and layout for an entire volume of my comic. I was all excited, I was yes, it sounds great, its going to look great.  Its going to be my favorite volume.  But when I counted how many pages it was going to be, I almost cried.  In one hour, I planned out three months worth of drawing, shading, posting, and editing.  And I’m only three pages into my first volume!  I won’t get to this volume until winter, at least!.  Oh god!  

 

And all I can do is sit down, hold tight, and keep up with it.  For someone who likes instant satisfaction, there are just some things you can’t take a short cut with.  This needs to be done right.  This storytelling will take time, and for every ounce of patience I give it, I will receive the same amount of patience from my readers.  If they are willing to wait, so shall I.

 

The whole while, I’ll be shivering with anticipation.   

Train Troubles

Reddit WritingPrompt: [EU] James Bond and Sterling Archer encounter each other on a mission to assassinate the same man.  An argument breaks out over who should get the kill.

 

In disguise as a bartender, Bond’s mission has him on a moving train.  In a dining cart bound to France, James Bond mans the bar.  

 

Q(mic):  Well, shit.

 

Bond turns away from the bar.

 

Bond (whisper): What is it, Q?

Q(mic): I seem to have picked up another radio frequency.  Give me a second, I’ll see if I can isolate it.  

 

The sound of typing is heard through the mic.

 

Q(mic): Oh, I know this radio frequency.  This is vexing.

Bond (whisper): How so?

 

Before Q can answer, a voice pulls Bond’s attention back to the bar.

 

Man: Help.  Scotch.  No, make that two.  I need two. This is a two scotch day.

 

Bond turns around and looks over the man.  Black hair, blue eyes, black suit, gun under coat.  The man reaches up to touch his ear.

 

Man: No mother, I’m not ordering two shots of scotch, I’m ordering two bottles of scotch cause  that seemed responsible.  (pause)  I need the edge Lana.  Remember the last train we were on?  What if I run into more Mounties? (pause)  What do you mean there aren’t Mounties in France?  Canada’s French, Lana!

 

Bond watches the exchange and casually whispers to not draw attention to himself.

 

Bond (whisper): Q?

 

However, the man turns to Bond, covering his interior ear piece with his hand.

 

Man:  Que?  No hobos engreish.  No, seriously, two bottles of scotch.  Chop chop, help.

 

As the man turns back to his ‘phone’ call, Bond slowly grabs a cup, keeping his eyes on the man.

 

Q (mic): That’s an ISIS agent, Bond.  Sterling Archer.  Seems he’s after the same bounty. 

Bond (whisper):  Bloody hell.

 

The man ends his own conversation by lowering his hand and turning back to the bar.  He grabs the glass that Bond hands him.

 

Bond:  (mildly sarcastic)  You do realize that touching your ear doesn’t make you look suspicious at all.

Archer: What?  Like you would know anything about being suspi….  Oh.  My.  God!  You’re James Bond!

 

Bond closes his eyes, trying to keep his composure.

 

Archer:   Wow!   Big fan!  No seriously.  Can I have your autograph?

 

Bond frowns, but slowly nodded.  Archer grabs a napkin and pulls out a pen.  With a flourish, Bond signs it and hands the napkin and pen over to Archer.

 

Archer:  Wow!  Who knew?!  What a coincidence meeting like this.  Unless….

 

As Archer trails off, the back train door opens, and in walks the mark.  Bond instantly pulls his gun and takes a shot.  However, Archer drives at him, messing up the shot.

 

Archer:  NOOoooo!

 

The mark’s bodyguards open fire at the two.  Both dive behind the bar for cover.  Over the sounds of gunfire, the two spies bicker.

 

Bond:  What the bloody hell?!

Archer: Dude, that’s my kill.  This my bounty.  As the world’s greatest agent, I get first dibs.  Dibs!

Bond:  Are you sure this isn’t above your grade? 

Archer:  Don’t get me wrong.  You’re Britain’s best.  Respect!  But, I’m an ‘international’ spy, so I’m the best.  I get jurisdiction or whatever it’s called.  He’s mine.

Bond:  (sigh) If that’s how you want to do this, I get jurisdiction because he’s wanted for crimes against Britain.  Rightfully, he’s mine.

Archer: But we aren’t in Britain.  We are in Canada! 

Bond:  France.  We are in France.

Archer:  Same difference.  

 

The sound of the back door opens again, as more bodyguards rush in. In a huff, Bond looks around for an escape.  However, as his eye catches on the pen in Archer’s coat, he grins.  He grabs it, gives it two clicks and threw it.  

 

Bond:  There, your pen, my aim.   We will just split the bounty.  

 

A crackle erupts from both of the spies’s earpieces.

 

Q(mic):  Pen?  Bloody hell.  I have already told you, no one uses exploding pens anymore.

Archer:  Actually, mine d-

 

An explosion errupted at the back of the cart, tearing it in half.  The remaining part of the car started to loose speed.  Both spies stood up to watch as the rest of the train took off down the tracks.  

 

Q(mic): (sigh)  Your tracker shows that you are losing speed.  Did you at least kill him?

Archer:  Kill him?  We toasted them!  Woo whoo!

Q(mic):  I’ll send a recovery team, but it’s going to be hours before they get there.  And Bond?

Bond:  Q?

Q(mic):  That is why we don’t do exploding pens anymore. 

 

Bond watched as Archer fist pumped the ‘victory’.  

 

Archer:  At least we have the bar!  

 

Archer digs through the broken bottles until he finds an unscathed bottle of Scotch.

 

Archer:  Hey!  Aren’t you suppose to say funny, cheesy things now that your mission is complete?How about, “How do we find them?  They’ll just follow the tracks?’  HA!  Or ‘They went in such a hurry, they only left the tip?!’

 

Bond sighed as he pulled a shaker from the bar shelf, starting to prep a martini in a cracked glass.  

 

Bond:  Well, they say that puns about trains always make for decent one-liners.

 

 

Shots fired.

Reddit WritingPrompts turned into a small script piece for my fan comic.

 

“Good god, Shawn!  Are you okay?!”

 

Shawn slowly looked up from the newspaper he was reading as his boss’s brother busted into the door.  “Why wouldn’t I be okay?”  Ethan eyes widen in disbelief, “Jim shot you!  He shot you!  How are you not okay?!”  Shawn turns back to the paper, gingerly turning to the next page, being careful with his left shoulder.  “Eh, I probably had it coming.  I should have been paying more attention really.  Who knew that kid could do my job better than me?  Anyway, Jim should be out in a bit.”  

 

Almost on queue, the back door opened.  In a flourish of expensive suits and too much cologne, Jim burst into the room, “I think someone owes me an apology~!”  Shawn looked up with a guilty look on his face, “Sorry I bleed all over your favorite suit Jim.  You can take it out of my next cut.”  Jim ripped the newspaper out of Shawn’s hand and started reading the front page.  “Already have.  Next time, try not to be so incompetent, or I’ll just have to get rid of you permanently.”  

 

Ethan watched the exchange and sat down in a huff.  Jim looked up, “Hmm?  Oh, Ethan.  Nice to see you. Doing well, blah blah blah.  Why are you here?”  Ethan shrugged, “I heard you shot Shawn and replaced him.  I would have assumed it was a joke, but oh no.  You couldn’t do anything normal.  You daft bastard, you actually shot him!” Jim looked up confused, “Why, is that not how you are suppose to handle firing someone?”

 

Ethan blinked in surprise.  “What?  NO!  You are suppose to give them a severance package, not shot, maim, or kill them!”  Jim watched Ethan’s outburst before slowly turning to Shawn, “Are you dying and/or dead?”  Shawn frown, “Not anymore?”  Jim turned back to Ethan, “See, he’s fine.  No harm, no foul.” 

 

“No harm?!  Jim, I have accepted that you are a criminal, working with the gangs and mobs and being an all-around arse, but good god, you aren’t suppose to shot your best friend!”  Jim scoffed, “Best friend? That sounds like something normal people have.”  A sour look crossed over his face as he slowly looked at Shawn, “You’re not my best friend, are you?”  Shawn looked up at Jim with an indecisive look on his face, “Maybe that’s why you shot me in the shoulder?”  

 

A slow look of realization spread across Jim’s face, “I was wondering about that.  Well then, everything settled.  I must be off, I have much to do~.”  With a wave of a hand, Jim headed towards the door.  Ethan stood up, grabbing Jim’s arm to stop him from leaving, “No, it’s not settled.  I think you owe Shawn an apology.”  A look of disdain crossed Jim’s face before turning back to Shawn.  In a sarcastic tone, “Shawn, I’m sorry.”  Ethan gave his arm a shake, “For what?”

 

“I’m sorry I fired you.”  A look of disbelief spread across Ethan’s face, though Jim just sneered up at him, before pulling his arm out of Ethan’s hold and leaving.  Ethan just watched in disbelief before turning to Shawn, “How can you take this so nonchalant?  I thought you were best friends.”  Shawn just shrugged as he picked up the discarded newspaper.  “We are. That’s why he didn’t shot me in the head.”