Condiment Courtesy

Ketchup in the fridge people are no better than sock-shoe, sock-shoe people

Please check out my Patreon and throw in a a few bucks a month so that making comics can continue to be my job.

If that doesn’t suit you, how about buying yourself a nice shirt or print from my store. That’s almost entirely self-serving when you think about it. Getting yourself a present, that is. You deserve it. You did a good thing one time, and now you need a reward lest you forget why you do good deeds at all and descend into your own personal moral chaos spectrum.

A Danger To Himself and Society

It’s abundantly clear this takes place on Death Row, right? Like, none of you assumed this guy was just in Max, right? Regular Death Row inmates that just wore their mom’s skin as a sun dress and made a trombone out her bones stay on Death Row for years and years, going through multiple appeals and lengthy legal proceedings. This sock-shoe, sock-shoe guy is promptly getting all of his blood replaced with poison Tuesday after next. People need to feel safe in their homes. American citizens need to be able to sleep at night, knowing that everyone they encounter is a sock-sock, shoe-shoe person, be they minister or murderer, doctor or decapitator.

I’m on vacation with my family right now, but I’m still hotel-making you some comics. Please to enjoy, and do tell your friends.

SHARKSPLODERS: Who else belongs in a cell with this sock-shoe, sock-shoe monster?