The culprit was a combination of things that’s been in the fridge for a week or so. Sometimes food goes bad. Real bad.
Presidents’ Day is about more than just mattress sales. It’s also about dressing up as dead presidents, fake beards and all, and singing Presidents’ Day carols like…um…hang on, I need to go write some.
Alarm clocks are the devil.
Have I mentioned cat hands before? It’s a term in common usage around here.
I can neither confirm nor deny this. I am really pleased with that third panel, though.
I would apologize for the pun in the third panel, but I regret nothing.
I apparently do this every night when I draw the comic. It amuses the hell out of the Wife.
And thus ends the epic of the glowy thingie!
Though maybe “epic” is a bit of an overstatement.
I just don’t even know anymore.