November 3, 2010 § Leave a Comment
Mr. Natural in New York. A deadhead past his prime. Aged and bloated, a nudist in clothes. A t-shirt invading foreign terrain; a revolt in the lower regions: the gut emerges victorious, extruding from the lower limits of the cotton tee.
Standing next to Mr. Natural is Flakey Foont, Phd: Native New Yorker. Still clueless, still Flakey, but he’s gotten a make-over. Is bald and wearing a cable-knit sweater. His forehead stretches back indefinitely and a burst of sweat clouds the air above him.
Relaxed, Mr. Natural balances a stack of wobbling books on his gut. Along the spine ‘Genesis’ is printed in archaic font. From Mr. Natural’s head emerges a thought bubble: That R. Crumb really is the cat’s pajamas!
Next to him, Flakey’s bandy little arms can barely support his own stack of books, with ‘Evolution of a Crazy Artist,’ printed on the line. Anguish and elation garble Foont’s features. A thought bubble: Oboyoboyoboy! I just love that Sophie Crumb. She’s a real hottie… And she’s got a twisted mind to boot!