Bizarro is brought to you today by Hot Letters.
I drew this cartoon because I, myself, am a non-Henderson. 'Nuff said.
Here is a story about last night:
CHNW and I were spending a quiet evening in our upstairs living room watching television when suddenly, around midnight, I spotted movement in my periphery and turned my head to the darkened corner of the room where our spiral staircase ascends from the ground floor. There, rising like one of the four horsemen of the apocalypse, was a large male figure.
Huge, pointy-clawed hands which I did not know resided within my chest grabbed my heart and squeezed hard, using their hairy elbows to push all of the air out of my lungs. For a solid 2 seconds, I was certain we were the victims of a home invasion and my mind raced to think what pointy or heavy object was within arm's length with which I could defend our lives and homestead. As he reached the top step and moved into the room, my razor-sharp brain suddenly recognized him and the claws let go of my heart as I was able to breath again.
For the past few days, CHNW and I have had a house guest, whom we will call Victor because that is his name. He is a youngster, college-age, and he was spending a few days in the city to see some Broadway shows and get lost in the city trying to navigate the subway system. Last night he went to see Avenue Q, a terribly funny show which I can recommend to anyone who enjoys funny things. (CHNW and I were watching HBO's True Blood, which I can recommend to anyone who likes blood.) Victor had been gone since around noon and I didn't hear him come in downstairs. Because my mind is more like a pocket calculator than a desktop computer, I had forgotten all about him.
In all my life I've never been so happy to see a male college student and he, CHNW and I had a good laugh. CHNW pointed out that the only weapon-worthy object in the room was my statue from the National Cartoonists Society. Victor came very close to being the first person in history to be murdered by a Reuben Award; a very dubious distinction, indeed.
And I would likely have been the first person to use the "I'm sorry, officer, I forgot he was staying with us" defense.