These are the last of the old pages inter-spliced with new pages. It will be all new pages from here on out, except for a brief story I already published some months ago under the posting “Of Banners and Buffoons”. I intend to work that into the story. It will be easy. It’s my life and it all fits together!
These were the four of the most difficult pages for me to draw. I hated drawing them. I hated even worse, having to go back and paint the fuckers. I did as little as possible.
I’ve never told anyone about what you are about to read. It’s been one of my biggest and worst secrets. I honestly blocked it out. I had forgotten that it happened until I got to that part in the story. And then it all came flooding back. Every detail.
I remember the crappy orange and brown shag carpeting that smelled like a beer-soaked ashtray. I remember the shiny oil-based paint in the corner of the living room wall. I can remember all the visceral details, but I am having a hard time with their names. Oh, I could find out if I really wanted to, but I don’t. I want to be done with this particular moment in my life.
I should have posted these pages as part of part five, but these four pages stand apart. It is graphic, and disturbing, and all too true.