[I’m back! Posting once a day until I run out again, but hopefully I won’t! You’re all wonderful people for waiting. <3
[Another OOC update, I only have one Q in the inbox, so I’m looking for more so I can have a queue going! Also I feel bad for not updating; expect a longer-form comic in the next few days to make up for it! Thanks for the patience and support, and thanks to all the new followers waiting for content! Love ya~!]
Come out! Come out! Can smell virus in blood. Come join infected.
((You can find Kenny here!:D))
Kenny: FFFFFUUUUUCCKKKKKK MY ONLY PAIR OF PANTS GOD FUCKING DAMMIT DBHBJS JAAAAAAAAAAHSHYHAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGHHH
Accurate, but I would NEVER smash Gunny. Holy hell, that guy… Am I gonna become like that? Fuck me…
I hope not.
Those things are fuckin’ scary as hell.
…He just got right back up, staggering around. Fucker nearly bit me.
It’s been weeks for me. I don’t know whether to count it as good luck, or a curse.
It was as good and bad as anyone’s family, I guess.
Mom was a 4th grade teacher and all kinds of strict and boring, I think me and my brother rebelled against her a lot. Or it could’ve just been dad’s influence on us. She was alright, though. I mean, she was my mom.
My brother, Art, was intent on annoying me into an early grave— maybe I shouldn’t use that phrase any more. Uh. Anyway. He was a lot younger than me, always bugging me to do shit for him, but he was at least a nice guy. He never lied, and God (or whatever) knows I did. He took the rap for me a bunch of times too. I miss him.
My dad was half-Indian, the American kind, not the Asian kind. I forget what tribe, it didn’t matter much to him. He was raised white anyway. He and mom got divorced when I was ten and Art was 5, so I didn’t get to see him a whole lot. I wish I had more. He was interesting. I think he wanted to be around more often, but he couldn’t. I hear he had a criminal past, but it might have just been my mom trying to turn us against him.
They didn’t deserve to die.
No words, just the melody. I’m working on it, it’s all I really think about. The issue is… I have no idea what it should be about.
Not to get all fucking philosophical, but what the hell is The Truth anyway? I haven’t been hit by any epiphanies here. I just keep dwelling on what my life used to be. My mom and dad and little brother. And my ex-girlfriend, a little bit. That’s not important, or the meaning of life, fucking stupid brain of mine…
…or… is it?
I remember looking like this. Fuck, I was hot once, do you get it? I don’t look like Jesus or Christian Bale or whoever on purpose, I just don’t have the energy or coordination to give myself a close shave and a haircut. I save what little I have for playing music.
Also, disturbing as it is, that’s what my memories look like to me. Grainy and slimy and off-colored, just like I’m about to be, one way or another.
[Hey guys, just a quick OOC update. I work from Monday to Wednesday, and my ability to draw gets pretty janky after work.
So the blog will update every day, at least once a day, from Thursday to Sunday. Stay cool~]