Sometimes there a bookcase in the corner by the door, sometimes not. The coffee table is moved to the side against the wall least anyone fall over it moshing to—of all things—The Nuge's "Wango Tango", as if it's a mosh-to tune. It's a good tune none-the-least or it wouldn't be included.
No. No one should be knocking. Why the hell would they?
So anyway . . .
. . . it's about this stripper that moves into the apartment complex.
A stripper? Really Paul? WHY?!?!? What is it with you and strippers?
Uh, nothing.
This is the rough draft that I had every fuckin' intention of inking and cleaning up. Swear to God.
Must have been distracted by the onset of marital problems. They way I cartooned women, I can't say that I'm too surprised. "Can't keep it down." I should be slapped in the face—with a big fat tit.
And so she slams the door and fucks up his hat so he turns up the stereo and she meets the old lady who is deaf and doesn't know what she is asking and it's all so effin' hopeless.
What would have happened next if my subconscious wasn't guilt tripping me about sexually objectifying hotties in cartoons and making most all of them strippers was that FnP would go to the strip club and she would be dancing drum roll cymbal crash I bet you didn't see that one coming.
There was another variation of this theme done in '93. I omitted it because this one looks better and has more story.
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