Web Comic!

LOLEmber

So, at 4AM this morning, Ember wakes us up with, "Cheeseburger!"

Us: "What?"

Ember: "Cheeseburger!"

Us: "You want a cheeseburger?"

Ember: "Cheeseburger!"

Us: "Ember, it's the middle of the night. We don't have a cheeseburger."

Ember: "I can have Cheeseburger?"

Us: "Baby, all the cheeseburger places are closed right now, we don't have any cheeseburgers."

Ember: "... Chicken nugget?"

Friday

I have to say that I like Fridays a lot. The day sort of puts the whole working for a living thing in its place. It is as if Work stands, draped in golden robes, benevolent and cold atop an alabaster... um, card table or something, looking down upon us sternly as if to say "I am your true god. Serve me and live." But then Friday comes along, and you're all like "yeah, I'm leaving early today." and Work is like, "What? You took like an hour and a half for lunch!"

I hear that in Europe they only go to work for two days a week, and they never stay late. So long as you don't want to own personal property or shoot stuff, life is pretty good there. The thought of packing up and heading to another country has often crossed my mind, but never really taken root. I don't think, having been raised a Texan, I could settle gently into the European Dream (Ciao). It's not that I often go about shooting things with wild abandon, but I do like having that option. I like American food too. By American food, I mean the food that we stole from everybody else, salted, deep fried, and dusted with powered sugar. Other countries use strange things like spices and herbs to flavor their food. We prefer it battered and glazed.

Speaking of glazing, I want a kiln. Many of my craziest schemes have been thwarted by the fact that I do not possess the ability to heat metals, glass, and/or ceramics to 1,500 heatagrade. I think the incinerator at the vet school where I used to work got that hot. One time my boss really wanted to clean out the incinerator right away, so he didn't wait the full week for it to cool down after shut off. His rubber boots melted. I remember he was always looking scornfully at me because he would want to finish projects quickly, whereas I preferred the lazy man's way of not doing stuff that was likely to kill or permanently disable me.

Me: "What's this strange fibrous gray material we're smashing with hammers? I've never seen anything like it before."

Him: "Asbestos."

Me: "Shouldn't we be wearing masks or something? I'm gonna go get a mask. You want one?"

Him: (Sighs heavily) "Just hurry up, I don't want this to take all day."

Anyway, where was I? Oh, yeah, it's Friday. I should probably go get some lunch or something.