Gedaway

Fnarg! Gowan, geddout! Geddouttaheyah! S’my place, s’not yours. Goway! I will gnaw on my own entrails if I so please, madam! You look at me with all your judgety eyes, well, tha’s why I cameded here, innit? To gedaway! No, no, I will not eyeballs my legs. I think it’s highly rude of you. No, in fact, not rude, pineapples, that’s what it is. Udderly. You and all of your ears and your fingers, think you can tells it what to do. But it’s not so simples, is it? Yuffly.

I would hope that you would consider my feelings in the matter, my fine and most crumbled sir, but I doubt highly that your sofa would allow it, no? Don’t shake your head. Or nod it. Or dance a jig. Wait, no, do dance a jig. Dance the finest jig of your life. With a hand bag woven of the finest duck hair.

And they said I couldn’t write. Ha! All I needed was the special alonedy time. No…don’t look in the cupboard, you won’t like what you see there. It’s my head you see, full of weevils. My eyes were itchy so I scratched them, now my hands are bleedy and it’s hard to see. Nails as hard as thighs, you understand? No, you hear, you listen with your ears again, but you don’t listen with your thoughts, and so you don’t understand. Knowledge without understanding, worthless, you see. Just empty headed know-it-alls. Tha’s all you ever were.

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Ian Sharman
Ian is a freelance writer and artist. He founded Orang Utan Comics Studio with Peter Rogers in 2006, writes for their Eagle Award Nominated anthology Eleventh Hour and regularly inks for Panini’s Marvel Heroes comic.
Ian Sharman

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