I am very close to finishing a new one-shot comic book. It’s a sci-fi collaboration between myself and Jerem Morrow. The title is Goodbye, Weather. The story follows a couple of saboteurs-for-hire orbiting the moon in a spacecraft designed for the purposes of projecting company logos and advertisements on the moon’s surface. All of these logos will be displayed on the comic pages as if they are advertisements waiting in queue to be displayed on the surface of the moon. There could be up to 100 shown throughout the book.
I continue to tongue the inside of the ice cream bowl. It’s been empty for hours, but I cannot let her know that. Again, I say, “Vhy tont oo ghoo doo dah shoppig mah buh yoosheff?” It’s hard to speak while doing this. “What?” she says. And again I go silent for ten minutes. Her siege succeeds. I remove the bowl in surrender. She pounces, “Honey! Will you drive me the mall? I need to buy expensive things with your credit card.” I explain, “Sorry dear, but I cannot. You see, I secretly laced my ice cream with a narcotic that’s sure to kill me if I do not quickly seek the proper medical attention. No, I’m afraid I only have just enough life left to drive myself to the hospital and hope they can relieve me of this horrid ailment.” Later, in the ICU, I eat some ice cream containing the antidote. I lick the bowl clean. “Now can we go?” she says. “Now we can go,” I say.
©2013 Eric Adams
Lacey had sixteen fingers. “You aren’t even trying,” her mother, sneered. “I am! I swear!” Lacey insisted. As usual, her mother slid onto the bench, her large bottom pushing Lacey aside. She demonstrated the proper way to play, explaining, “No! No! It’s da-da-dum-dum-da-dum…” But, instantaneously, her mother’s fingers were no longer attached to her. Silent, metal lightning had removed them. Another silvery flash bolted across her throat. She thudded onto the floor and shook. Lacey placed the knife on the sheet music rack and reclaimed her seat. She admired the newly decorated keys. Her mother’s fingers laid on top of them like little frankfurters drizzled in catsup. Lacey poised her own fingers above them and gently beared them downward. Thunder followed. Altogether, Lacey had sixteen fingers… Four thumbs too.
©2013 Eric Adams
“Percussion. You should percussion me in the face,” she signs. I cannot read sign language, but that’s what it looked like. I respond as best I can. “Your mother slept with your uncle. He’s your real father,” I interpretively dance. “I demand entitlement,” she signs. “I lied about being out of ice cream last night because I wanted it for myself after you went to bed,” I charade. No response. Oh, the poor thing must not speak charades. “If you wet the bed again and wake me up at three in the morning, I will end you,” I reveal through elaborate kabuki. “Television has twisted my sense of self worth,” she signs, then says, “Dad, can you help me with my homework?” It’s math. “Of course kiddo. Let’s go.”
©2013 Eric Adams
White noise and black heat paralyze most sensation. The atmosphere feels dense. It’s the smoke. Smart smoke. It analyzes my suit’s elemental composition for resource reassignment along with the rest of the atoms on this moon. I’m next. No, I’m now! It’s pointless to run, but I run. My blood burns. The ground beneath me melts away. My feet join the harvest cloud. Thoughts melt. It all goes synesthetic. I hear the flavor of o-zone. I see the sound of plasma. I taste the heartbeat of circuits. Nothing moves. Everything disperses. Smoke rises.
©2013 Eric Adams
I take a seat and order. “Whiskey. Neat.” My barstool ebbs and flows with the residual currents that have followed me in from the hotel pool. I was out there too long. The drink touches down neatly on a napkin before me and the hand of woman serving it lifts off from the glass like a dragonfly. “I peed in the pool today,” I hush. She admires my directness. I can tell. “Who hasn’t?” she flutters. I can hear the sound of sexually frustrated cicadas behind her teeth. I take a sip and move my bishop longways. “Excuse me, but you can’t do that kind of stuff in here,” she complains. So, I let go of my bishop and consider her queen. I want to further explain why I’m not wearing pants, but it’s not necessary. The urination and the whiskey have already covered that. I finish my drink and let the waters push me out to sea. “See you tomorrow, Captain,” she says. I wish she’d stop calling me that.
©2013 Eric Adams
First page of the soon-to-be-released sci-fi collab between myself and Mr. Jerem Morrow.
San Diego Comic Con International is this week and for the first time ever I, Eric Adams, and my glorious indie comic, LACKLUSTER WORLD, will be setup there. Find me in Small Press at table L-7.
Okay, so, yeah, maybe that’s not exciting in itself, but maybe this is…
EXCLUSIVE LACKLUSTER WORLD BOX SETS
LIMITED EDITION of 10. (That’s ten!)
Each box set contains:
- The complete series of Lackluster World (issues 1 through 7), bagged and boarded.
- One original art commission. You choose the subject. (The example above is a lovely ink/marker rendering of Mr. Mittens.)
- One t-shirt, any size, your choice: “Jesus & Talking Bear” or “Where Were You The Day You Died?”
- The box itself. A premium quality gift box measuring 15″ x 9.5″ x 2″ with the LACKLUSTER WORLD logo emblazened upon it. The box comes in white or platinum. Since there’s only 10 of these sets, there’s only 5 of each color.
- One Lackluster World coffee mug. It doesn’t actually fit in the box though. But, you wouldn’t want to keep it there since you’ll be using it at the office all the time anyway.
(Note that the Mr. Mittens plush is not part of the box set. That is a one-off. I just thought it made the photo composition a bit more interesting.)
Again, these are exclusive to San Diego Comic Con, however, if any remain I will make them available online. And, of course, I’ll have all the usual books, art and merchandise. I’ll draw you a sketch if you ask nicely enough too.
See you there!
Hello, Internet. It’s been quite a while since this blog saw any activity. This blog will, in fact, soon be gone, soon to be replaced with a whole new Website Thing In-Progress. But, I still need to disseminate infos for things. So, here is an info for a thing.
S.P.A.C.E. is this weekend!
The above video is from 2010, but is excellent at expressing the kind of convention that S.P.A.C.E. is.
S.P.A.C.E. is the Small Press and Alternative Comics Expo. I will be setup there as I am every year because it is my very favorite comic convention. You can find me at tables #99 and #100. That’s right! TWO TABLES! I’m doubling down. Here’s a floor plan:
Sharing my space will be mini-comics extraordinaire, Kris Lachowski. You might recall that he is the witty gentleman behind Euni the Unicorn, as well as other great comics under his Mean Goat Comics imprint. Kris invited me to do the cover art for Euni the Unicorn #2 and I graciously accepted. Here are the results:
Kris will have Euni the Unicorn #2 available at S.P.A.C.E. along with the rest of his comics work.
I will have the usual Lackluster World goods on hand. My big attraction still being the final issue ,which was released in September last year, but is new to the S.P.A.C.E. crowd. I’ll be doing sketches all weekend too. And although I’ve remained mum on the Internet about my new projects, I might open up about them more if you come ask me in person.
Anyway, please come to S.P.A.C.E. and not just for me. There are so many great, weird comics to be had.