Brandle, Elki and Yann are still just three ladies looking for a good time, but Elki’s disastrous dabbling in forbidden sorcery soon pits the trio against the wicked minions of her patron demoness! 48 pages of psychedelic fantasy, salty humor and unfettered smut rendered in luminous black & white, yours for $11.50 (shipping included). Click images to enlarge, then visit my store to purchase!
Tuesday, September 20, 2016
Fresh off its debut at the Small Press Expo 2016, the continuing chronicle of the smutographical antics of Brandle, Elki, Yann and those whom fortune has favored to cross their paths is now available in the store for the consideration of a mere $6.50 (shipping included)!
Wednesday, September 23, 2015
Blimey, ANOTHER ridiculously long hiatus! I've since published a couple more Squiggle Chicken sketchbook minis. If you like what you see, visit the Store page!
KING KONG vs SQUIGGLE CHICKEN
More junk from my sketchbooks. This one's a bit more tightly woven than the previous two.
SQUIGGLE CHICKEN: Inktober 2014
This one collects most of the drawings I did as contributions to the
#inktober hashtag frenzy for 2014.
Friday, January 31, 2014
It's been rather awhile, hasn't it? Sorry 'bout that! Lately I've been busy working on the second issue of MonstaLand. In the meantime I've added a couple of items in the store; both are sketchbook minicomics I produced recently. Here's a peek!
SQUIGGLE CHICKEN RAIDS AGAIN
SQUIGGLE CHICKEN RAIDS AGAIN
Friday, May 24, 2013
Saturday, December 29, 2012
So tonight I (quite inadvertently, I promise!) stole a pen from one of my favorite bars. Hey, that'll happen! But that sort of thing happens a lot, which is where the Pen Guy stepped in. Back in the day, the Pen Guy was an East Village dive bar's best bet to stem the constant tide of pen depletion. An honest-to-god traveling salesman, this goggle-eyed, gnomish fellow would hoof it from bar to bar in the dark of night with one purpose: to sell pens. As often as not, he would be greeted with gratitude and money by a mixologist desperate for a handful of writing instruments. With the closing of that transaction, he would set his salesman's sights on those of us on the other side of the bar. He was not a verbose salesman; he simply opened his bulky plastic case of pens and let us gape at them. He knew his stock and the quality thereof intimately, and he let his inventory speak for itself. I only had one verbal interaction with the man: I took an interest in a newly-released Uniball, and he said: "Oh, that's a VERY good pen.". A few bucks changed hands, and I had that pen plus a couple of Sharpies as well (I think most of his sales were of Sharpies to drunks, actually). He's been long gone from the scene, but I can't help but wonder how the dive bars of the East Village can fend for themselves against pen thieves like myself. So Pen Guy, whether you be on this plane or the next, Salutations! I need a fresh Sharpie or two, and you are sorely missed.