Who among us does not enjoy a rip-roaring tale of adventure in the snowy Himalayas involving one or more purveyors of artificial limbs? WELL, DON'T ANSWER YET because this also has a... well, I'll not spoil it for you. No, I'll not.
Penned (directly in ink, as is the fashion) by my pal Mike and me, with him doing panels 1, 3, and so on, and me evening it all up, here is Commander Rugglesby, field operative for the Cadmus Company, to tell the stirring tale! (Click the images to make bigger--my choices here were miniscule, teensy, small, this, and enormous.) From 1999:
Mike started in, and drew for a while. "I kind of blew the guy's arm," he said.
"Don't worry!" I said confidently. "I'LL FIX IT!" And that's how an epic is born.
Pay no attention to such minor details as whether "Junior Lefty (tm)" is a right or a left arm. It is irrelevant, and can only serve to breed pointless discontent. Previously printed in The New Pals Club Magazine. I don't even know why the paragraphing is so weird here. It's these little details that distinguish home-wrought craft from the mass-produced junk the major producers foist on us!
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"Don't worry!" I said confidently. "I'LL FIX IT!" And that's how an epic is born.
Pay no attention to such minor details as whether "Junior Lefty (tm)" is a right or a left arm. It is irrelevant, and can only serve to breed pointless discontent. Previously printed in The New Pals Club Magazine. I don't even know why the paragraphing is so weird here. It's these little details that distinguish home-wrought craft from the mass-produced junk the major producers foist on us!
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