Perpetually single, incapable of talking to girls (let alone women), and letting himself go physically, Scott is certain that his only shot at successfully procreating is to become insanely wealthy.
He doesn’t actually attend Alexandria University — he just never moved away from his college town. He has enough credit hours for a degree, but he’s never graduated, because he’s that special sort of disorganized that bureaucracies thrive on abusing.
Scott’s resumes all claim an advanced degree in Archaeology. He’s convinced that no one reads the damn things, anyway. Status: employed at gas station.
Drawing fire trucks takes a long time, and then we had some things we needed to correct before we uploaded this comic, and those were overlapping with our (scheduled for four weeks and therefore not movable) D&D character creation party today.
We’ve got a vampire-hunting shifter monk, a pirate airship captain Bard, a Cleric and a Gunslinger who sniff glue, and an artificer named Corporal Cuddles for completely valid and awful RP reasons that involve a sugar glider. Looks to be I’ll be DMing for a fun group of lunatics.
Zach put a lot of extra effort into drawing this comic because he’s avoiding his very last commission as hard as he possibly can. Once this commission is done, though, we’re going to be able to make more comics, more often, and I am excited about that.
God, I watched the US presidential debates while I was lettering this. What a tirefire. It was two-minutes of an interrupting word-salad followed by two minutes of a person making sense.
I don’t like what Clinton did to Bernie’s campaign, and I don’t respect those tactics at all, but she’s got to win this election. She has to. Trump has demonstrated tonight that he’s barely capable of understanding a question, let alone answering one and acting upon it with policy.
Anyone who is willing to risk letting that man-child become president has been blinded by hate.