Sonambulance Driver

Saturday June 12, 2004
Over the last few years, Ying and I have talked occasionally of doing
a web comic. Of course, we've never really had the time in our schedules
to commit to updating as regularly as those whose comics we read. This
blog's spotty and inconsistent content should be a strong testimonial to

However, sometimes I see things that just indicate there's a creative
impulse that needs expressing. For example, yesterday Ying was

alt="Logos removed to indemnify me against an inevitable lawsuit"
border="0" />

To her, this is simply a scribble she drew on some scrap paper. To
me, though, this is potentially a hilarious comic strip. I can see the
potential for a comic there; sort of a href="">Slow Wave meets href="">Achewood vibe. An entry from her href="">already-famous
turtles could provide that Phillipe/ href="">Wigu quality.

src="" alt="Kame!" />

As long as I'm describing by association, I suppose I need to
mention Silence of the Lambs. You just can't quite ignore the
implied cannibalism of a sentient hamburger. I could let it go
with a mere passing reference to The Hitchhiker's Guide,
considering the restaurant at the end of the universe, but the nearby
sketch of the included "toy" reveals the pathological genesis of mister
hamburger over there.


"Oh, sure", you think at first. "The eyes are a little weird, but it's
just a kid's wind-up toy. What could be wrong with that?" Don't be
fooled. That's just what it wants you to think.

You won't listen to me, though. That's what you will think. That's
what you'll think as you unwrap him; that's what you'll think as you
carelessly discard him somewhere in your home, to zoom around your
floors and innocently amuse you by bonking into walls. But
not me... I know all about Bonky the Beetle and his href="">seemingly innocent


You'll leave him there, on the floor, forgotten, out of sight, out of
mind. He won't forget you, though. Every scrap of lint gumming up his
wheels, every rotten, rusting, made-in-china part of his winding
mechanism, every soul-mangling hour of neglect, reminds him of you.
One day when you least expect it, when your guard is down, and you're
walking down the hall, he'll be there. Right under your heel as you're
taking that first step down the stairs. Right where you'll slip on him
and break your neck.

It'll kill him too, too, of course. It will crush him like a
proverbial bug - well, like an actual bug - but for him, it'll be worth
it. He'll finally remind you that he's there, in a way you
can never forget again.


I'm not crazy. I'm ready. I never bought that toy - I
already knew that I should never trust a href="">
mechanical insect.