The year was 2007. It was a chilly December.
The snow fell and the wind blew as a degree in
comic art was imparted to a former film maker.
Armed with this tandem of academic achievement
he walked off into the cold, snowy night.
He draws. He teaches. He cries.
The squirrels plot against him.
1 comment:
Okay, I haven't been checking in lately, and I have no idea what or why this is, but I love it.
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