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CHAPTER 8 - PAGE 26
(Transcript and visual captions below}

   Allison had slept dead through the day, some dirt in the bed generously supplied at the last minute by a little stone demond - ensuring her comfort. Waking in a tiny infernally-themed room over a rock club made her feel like a real grown-up, like being a vagabond wasn't so bad after all. Thierry was trying to go easy on the ass-kissing, to look cool, and it made him a lot more tolerable the next night.
   They listened to "The Death-thrasher's Hour" on college radio and played records for a few hours. Thierry did his best to be cool, but his age showed. Then he made a deadly mistake.
His record pile slipped, revealing a girly-rock record from the glitz metal era.
   "Holy shit, dude!," she said. "That shit is so LAME! I mean, there's kitsch and there's ... Titty metal? Really?"
   "No no no, bebe, it is just, un, it is very musically seegnificant! She was influential to Corpse Rape Brigade! It's true."
   "Influential to Strip Club DJ Brigade, more like."
She wasn't that upset, but it was time for a pleasant stroll in the snow, and it gave her a way to leave him on his heels.

In which the Kingfisher needs Robert Stack to narrate.

   Darren and Allison were mystified and alarmed by an animal-like moan of sadness and fear in the living room.
They ran out of the kitchenette to see Tristan standing alone.
   "What gives?," Darren asked.
   "N-n," Tristan gestured at the ground, still dumbstruck.
They saw the shoes and the ash.
   "Spontaneous human combustion?!," Darren asked, incredulous.
Allison pushed a shoe with her foot. Her face shot with tension, eyes wide.
   She turned to grip Tristan by the shoulders. "What happened?"

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     September 3rd, 2012
     By:  Kelly

OH MAH GAWD. This page was too hard. I'm sorry for the mega super lateness, but if it's any consolation, I labored all labor day on it. I was complaining to Christopher about how I was making literally one-pixel changes that were vitally essential. (At least they seemed that way at the time x_x) One more page in this chapter... *queues up evil laughter for next post*

             TRANSCRIPT:  This is the text of the comic, for purposes such as translation and internet searches.

1.)

(Allison steps in the hotel room casually, brushing snow flakes off her shirt.)

ALLISON: Hey guys, what’d I miss?

2.)

(Darren, Tristan and Jack share an uncomfortable look/ stare at Allison.)

3.)

DARREN: I didn’t know you were gay... I was just like, bustin’ your chops. I feel like an
asshole.

4.)

(Jack looks bemused, Allison looks on cheerfully.)

JACK: Wow, that’s sorta an apology. I accept!

ALLISON: It's a Godmas miracle!

5.)

(Tristan puts his arm around Jack and rallies the troops.)

TRISTAN: We stay with Jack, some bad thing happens when he is alone. Let’s help him.

DARREN: Uhhh okay?

ALLISON: Okay..!

6.)

(Jack smiles bashfully.)

TRISTAN: We all stick together to help you!

7.)

(Outside the hotel room's bricked up view and snow drifting down.)

8.)

(Tristan sits on the windowsill as Jack talks to him with arms folded.)

JACK: Do you think... this is kind of awkward now?

TRISTAN:  Why?

9.)

(Tristan smiles.)

TRISTAN: I always have fun with you, Jack. You’re my best frand always, I like you.

10.)

(Jack is endeared.)

JACK: Aw. I guess it’s just nice to have a friend who’s there-

11.)

(Interrupted mid-sentence, Jack's eyes begin bleeding.)

JACK: -for you.

12.)

(The blood drips down further, he looks concerned at Tristan's reaction.)

JACK: Um? What?

13.)

(Minchin style hands reach out of the ground, grabbing Jack's bare ankles.)

14.)

(In slow motion, Tristan speaks and blinks.)

TRISTAN: Jack... your-- eyes-- are--

15.)

(Tristan looks out, Jack gone in a puff of ashy smoke.)

TRISTAN: Oh no...

16.)

(Jack is shocked, in total darkness with blood coursing down his face.)

17.)

(Minchin appears in the darkness, reaching to grab Jack, who is shocked.)

MINCHIN: ‘Who’s there!’ You said it at last! Ding ding ding! We have a winner! --and your prize is...

18.)

(Tristan is aghast, staring at Jack's empty shoes still on the floor, ashy smoke drifting around and ashes on the ground.)

TRISTAN: What! Where--

19.)

(A close up of Jack's empty shoes.)

TRISTAN: How--?!

 
 
 
 
 
 
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