Time for some laughs! Let's check in with the funny pages!

[seriousfic]

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WHO? THE FUCK? DOES THIS? That's the most awful thing I've ever even heard about. That's like... the entire Complete Monster page on TV Tropes would turn its nose up at that. No. No. This isn't okay. She doesn't get away with that. I read ahead, just to find out what happened, and there was some bullshit about forgiveness and closure... no. There's only one way this story can possibly end in a satisfying manner.





Lillian came to slowly. Her head hurt fiercely. Her vision was blurring and she was just reaching for her glasses when she realized her wrists were bound, rusty metal shackles chafing her skin. She was in some kind of sewer, or abattoir, grime-crusted tiles swallowing up her bare feet and walls surrounding her with unmentionable filth sliding down them. More chains held her throat, arms, and legs. She could only move a few inches; just enough to crane her head (and even this was at an awkward, uncomfortable angle) to see a TV hovering over her. As she examined her reflection in the dead screen—her hair was dark with the waste she must've been dragged through—the television flipped on.

And on it was a figure she well knew from 60 Minutes. The signature doll of the Jigsaw Killer. Her heart would've stopped if it didn't start pounding so hard instead. She knew what was coming next. Hello Lillian. I want to play a game.

Only the doll said nothing. It simply lingered in front of the camera, as if staring at her. The mouth opened and shut sporadically—like Jigsaw himself was speechless, unable to come up with anything to say.

Finally, the doll's crudely hewn mouth opened and stayed open. "What. The. Cunt."

Lillian was well and truly shocked. She had expected… not this, at least. "I beg your pardon?"

"What in cock, lady? How the fuck… she was your fucking sister, you cold bitch! I mean, god-to-the-damn, I know she and her beau were fucking morons for proposing marriage over a letter, but that just means you screwed with a fucking idiot and not someone who actually has a mind to realize they were screwed with."

"I know what I did was wrong! And I am so sorry—"

"Shut your cock-trap, you Nazi! Sixty goddamn years! Most small fucking children would realize that they'd done something wrong and make amends within a day. You just… I mean, Jesus. Who the fuck does this shit? I fucking kill people for having too many parking tickets. I didn't even know you were a fucking category. If there's more than one old person as disgusting, as wretched, as fucking slimy as you, I'd take a flamethrower to the nearest retirement home and expect a public citation, just on the off chance I fried the cocksucker!"

"But… but… Lucy forgave me!"

"I told you to shut your filthy lie-hole! Just because Lucy has Down's Syndrome doesn't mean you're off the hook. I had to race Batman and the Punisher to enact vigilante justice on you. Ghost Rider wouldn't even show up. He didn't believe the shit you pulled was fucking possible. He has a biker tattoo for a face and he's calling bullshit on your morality. You just have to die. Hell owes me a finder's fee."

"W-w-what are you going to do to me?"

"Technically, I'm supposed to give you an out so long as you saw your guts off or some shit, but the thought of you living, even at the cost of most of your limbs and all of your reproductive organs, makes me see colors that don't exist in fucking nature. So I just implanted a nest of Brazilian penis-ants, fed from infancy on the flesh of Nazi war criminals and exposed to Brett Ratner movies 24 hours a day, inside your thighs. Also, they shit acid, so as they're eating you, they will shit you out as acid, which will burn you. Your only escape is a quick death, which is fucking unlikely, so if I were you, I'd start badmouthing Jesus in the hopes that he'd give you an express ride to hell instead of making you commute with the usual drug dealers, serial killers, and pedophiles who don't deserve to be in your presence. I've also set your death up as a pay-per-view on the Internet. People want to see it so much that all the purchasing has saved the worldwide economy. That is exactly how much of an awful person you are. Now die so heterosexual men and lesbian women can go back to having sex. As of now, no one wants to fuck anyone who has a gender in common with you, you satanic ejaculate of a human being!"

Comments

[ogdafunkle.livejournal.com]

Lol! Tell us how you really feel.

You have a point though that comic is sad :(

[box-in-the-box.livejournal.com]

Dude, it's Tom Batiuk. The man has made Funky Winkerbean and Crankshaft into such unremitting festivals of barely human horror that the Comics Curmudgeon has devoted an entire segment of his columns to talking about how those two comic strips are, without any exaggeration, literally suicide-inducing. Being surprised that his characters commit acts that are jaw-droppingly inhumane and objectively unforgivable is like being surprised that Max Hardcore is slightly rough with the girls in his videos.

[mcity.livejournal.com]

I actually went over to Joshreads to see if he had anything to say about it.

http://joshreads.com/?p=11269
Lucy McKenzie died in a nursing home in 2009, demented and unaware that her jealous vicious harpy sister Lillian had stolen and concealed a letter from her beau Eugene proposing marriage just before he shipped out for WWII. Lucy came back this year to haunt Lillian into taking her to the ruins of the Wisteria Ballroom so she could hook up again with Eugene, as we see here. Aww.

Oddly enough, he didn't mention anything while it was ongoing. I guess he downed five shots of whiskey before realizing there was no way to make it funny.

[mcity.livejournal.com]

It's an exponential guilt loop. You make one mistake, but don't confess, because you think the person will be mad. The longer you wait, the madder you think they'll be, and the chance of you admitting your error steadily decreases, until you can only tell them on their deathbed or some other time where you can be fairly sure they won't reach up and wring the life from your scrawny, misbegotten neck.

PS

[mcity.livejournal.com]

And if you're in the Supernatural universe, don't count on the Hardy Boys' mercy, oh no. They will stand back and wait for the ghost of the person you wronged to finish killing you before you get banished.