Got a little sneak peek, page one panel one of a six page short called All the Wrong Choices slated as a back up in Elk’s Run #2. All the Wrong Choices is written by me and the incredibly talented Chris Fabulous (who also did the layouts) and is illustrated by Paul Maybury, a god amongst illustrating mortals. It will be in full color but, like I said, this is a tease. Maybe I’ll post the first page when it’s finished.
(Click for full picture)



Drugs. College and drugs just seem to go hand in hand. I was pretty tame, I enjoyed my occasional dope (and by occasional it was about 5-7 days a week sophomore year, my dope-pinnacle), shrooms once and X once. So, honestly, my experimental phase wasn’t that experimental. No llallo, no H, no crank, no K…just wasn’t my speed. Oh yeah, and no speed either. Wait, is speed and crank the same thing?

Anyway, my sophomore year roommate was the studious, straight edge type. Amazingly, we got along quite well.

For the first few months.

Before I get into the brunt of this story, I need to say that it was so funny after the “shit the bucket” incident, my roommate was fucking fuming, saying he can’t believe an animal like that lives on this floor. I was trying not to laugh, because I was said animal, and I had sex on his bed a couple of nights beforehand to boot.

Ok, back to the story. I ordered up my X from this kid I know. Don’t remember his name, don’t care. I bought three things off of this kid. X (once), dope (many times) and Magic cards. He was like an all purpose dealer and yes; I had a 6 month stint with Magic.

Now, my roommate had a study group over, all Asians, ubernerd style. They were sitting on the floor, in a circle, when their was a knock on the door. My dealer came in, showed me the X, told me the price, commented how it even has pretty butterflies, reminded me that me and my lady where going to “fuck like bunnies” that night, I paid him and he left. Now, for some reason, I thought this was totally cool. The silence hanging over the study group proved otherwise.

My roommate pulled me out into the hall and told me, “Don’t you ever fucking do that again.” Now, I’m generally a tolerable person and I can own up to mistakes. I hate being cursed at, tho, and I hate someone telling me what to do.

“Ok. I’m gonna go now. I’ll be back around 8, make sure you’re out of the room because I’m gonna fuck ______ all over that goddamn place.” And I left.

He was the last roommate I ever had. People like me can’t have roommates, we don’t work well. A month later my RA quit. I haven’t mentioned this yet, but I got the position when he left. My roommate was so pissed, because he knew that I didn’t deserve the position. My friends and floor mates were ecstatic, because everyone likes to smoke dope with their RA.

Fuck it, one quick related story. My buildings director warned me that some cops were coming by to search one of my resident’s rooms because they were suspected of dealing drugs. I didn’t suspect them I knew they were dealing drugs because I was buying them off of them. Anyway, I went up to my resident’s room, banged on their door and said, “Cops are going to be here soon, whatever the fuck you got, get rid of it.” Their search turned up nothing.

I want to go on record as saying I haven’t done drugs since college. I don’t know why that matters, I’m just kind of proud of it. Of course, I drink way too much, but no drugs. I’m a model citizen.

turn off the metallica, fanboy: Tical