Monday, April 30, 2007

Thursday, April 26, 2007

Part 2

Here it is.
Sorry for the wait if you were indeed waiting for it.
Hope this works:
Till next time... you'll just have to read the actual posts XD

Wednesday, April 25, 2007

When You're Sleepy,

make a sound like a crazy polystyrene monkey: baka baka baka baka baka baka baka baka baka.
By the way, if you have a goldfish, check its teeth for signs of zirconium student access card disease. Cure with fake Nike boxers. Wish the goldfish "Get well soon" and hop on the next subway train to Hawaii. Pearl the Bomb Harbour and harbour pearls of wisdom to bomb. Ship a pack of Dunhills to a nudist beach and call all the women there fat. Call all the men wimpy and prepare to get the bashing of your life (alternatively run away very very fast). Make sure to avoid stepping on pinecones as you cross the beach road as this will interfere with the cure. Splash your way through the sand to the closest boulder with the encrypted inscription:

Bnmfqzstkzshnmr, H itrs vzrsde xntq shld

Decrypt it and jump for joy in blatant, ecstatic celebration. Decrypt again just to be sure and toss down two shots of overproof Bacardi to show that you're a man (chilled Ribena for the women). Eat a magic mushroom. Contemplate your stupidity and follow the hallucinations to the Forest of Gnomes.
NOTE: No matter how hard the hallucinations hit you, kick you and cause you intense pain, they ARE NOT the people from the nude beach. I repeat THEY ARE NOT. In fact, chanting "I do believe in fairies. I do. I do." won't help very much (unless you're particularly religious).
Regardless of whether the fairies come to help you or not, the gnomes will start a bonfire as you enter the forest and douse it before they start it. It's magic OK?
Take the next plane (once you are physically able) over the Himalayas and hijack it. Fly in a circle around the top of Mount Everest 10 times or until crispy and golden. Heat the apples in a saucepan and add butter and salt to taste. Throw away the interfering apple pie recipe and prepare for a crash landing. Rub salt in the wound and blow your own trumpet (for atmosphere, a requiem is pretty good). Swirl the snow around in you mouth for flavour and smash head first into a rock. If you aren't dead, well done. Proceed to roll of the nearest ledge, tumble into a deep crevasse and have an easter egg for doing so well.
Remember no pain, no gain.
Snort some weed, choking on the cellulose in the process.
Finally, make your way home. If your goldfish hasn't starved to death, hit it a few times and flush it down the toilet for making you suffer (in your state, the goldfish will win so don't worry about the RSPCA).
Rejoice, you saved your goldfish. Go directly to jail. Do not pass Go. Do not collect $200.

Friday, April 20, 2007

Rubber, Inflatable Abdominals Of Slumber

Beware the abdominal snowman. The abominable one is surely no worse for wear. The leather makes for a rather good winter picture diary. Super Combat Butlers to rescue the prisoner cover slips from my sludge-enveloped, feathery earthwormy friends. Mossy green polar bears have the most insquishable appetite for easter bunny hair. Poor bald bunny. It's not funny. Especially when it was all sunny. The yolk in my polk-a is runny. Besides the point, a bit to the left, maybe a bit above as well lies the belowest of the bellow's below. Did you think you could hide from a feather angel? Squiggly fish lateral lines.
If you study the weather, you have no life. Great offence was not meant to be a part of the non-offensive implication of the objectionable comment I never just made. I mean, who wants to look at the fluffyness of floating razor-blade wielding permanent marker flavoured water vapoured pastel coloured simpleton thievery. Lost track of my train there. Slipped the rails. Fell of the railing. Stumbled into a plastic slipper. No, pitcher plants have not been drinking slime balls to get high. That's the proboscis monkey's proboscis' 400598th nostril hair's incentive to achieve greater hights of sound quality. As for the 400599th nostril hair, picnics in the rain, living among the oak trees, feeding on pencil case fibres. From their diet, it can be deduced that eyeballs are cholesterol free and suffer not from constipation. Mastication of mastification seems to help. What's mastification? The process of mastifying something.
Just as obviously, using a negative sign in a coin box doesn't help to stop the plague. Sing a song of six pence a pocket full of bones... stones... cones... phones... tones... credit-card holding uniformed arctic terns. Migration is the ultimate form of settling down for a lifetime. Blue LED goes on a nomadic journey to find the fabled land of coffee bottle top Gomoku games.
Back to square one. Nought or cross? That's like asking "Somersaulting butterfly or mentally disabled euphemistic grasshopper larvae eaters?" But not really...
If you thought walking into a steel rod was funny, try jumping off a ledge into a pool of cockroach guts. Just at that moment, if you're lucky (which you probably won't be) and amazingly dense (which you could be, even now...) the medal of pica honour will meep its way onto your lap with amazing dexterity. Finally I will be one with the gold ribbon as the assault helicopermermeterer THING zeros the max and stationaries the pointer on the head of a backflip triple loop monkey-fly-undone barrel-of-wine roll. Eeeeeeooooooo plop.
Like washers in the night. Doing laundry.

Comic part 2's gonna be late... probly.

Sunday, April 15, 2007

End Of Break

The power cable is too tired to make me ramble much. I planned to have the whole 2nd comic finished by this weekend but it's not going to happen. Hey what do u expect when it's 5 times the number of panels as the the 1st one...? There I go defending myself from the invisible non-existent demon ribbons. Also, to cram everything into one thing is too much of an overload. So in the end the cards decided to split the comic into 2 installments.
Number one:
Hopefully part 2 get's done...

Thursday, April 12, 2007

A Hong Kong Exit

Haven't been to Hong Kong. Neither has my nailclipper screw. As a matter of fact neither has the Queen's Slipper Joker card. What a coincidence. Nevertheless, the multitudinous cans of coke make their way to the front of the hall for a liquid N2 demonstration.
You know, its pretty wonderful how people can touch type, look at the flowery wallpaper and think on how to kill a mockingbird with the picture of Dorian Gray paying particular attention to the elements of style and the origin of species. Such a person is a fortunate man in the prodigal summer of all creatures great and small. But what is this thing called Science? Massively munchable miniature favourites I guess. Crafted and distilled by the Bundaberg distilling company. Ziii-iing~
The fluffy toy sits and contemplates the world from his spot on the shelf. With eyes perpetually melancholy and fluff perpetually upright, he wonders what made him lifeless. Yet without life how can he wonder? I wonder. What a wonder. He and I, we need to wander to wonder and ponder to ourselves the wonder that is life and the ability to wander and wonder. Poor fluffy toy. Stuck to his spot on the shell. The towel hanger cries for retribution. The bathtub prays for redemption and the chewy power cables of alcoholic death rain snow and hail on unwitting giant condors passing by on their paper maché wizard hats.
Nonsense is a lot harder than it looks. Rock-hard even. Marshmallow even. Swine even. Cranial damage of the lower pelvis is terrible. Life threatening even. Mousy! Like Wen's birthday cake when he turned 13. Heh heh.
Abstract extraction has begun in the organic slop that is a primordial soup. Cream of perhaps mushroom, bacteria, archaea, perhaps hogs, perhaps cows, perhaps goliath beetles. All taste like chicken. Slash them with your key chain. Chop chop. Easter eggy, jelly beany, dairy milky, dreamy delight. What a delicatessen.
And in the shadows the pencils prepare for a full on assault on the carpet bag of comforter, bolster pillowy deathness.
Red wRong
Orange OrthOdOntist
Yellow Yoinking
Green egGs
Blue Before
Indigo intervIewing
Violet Veal

Monday, April 9, 2007

First RHMS Comic: Eagles' Revenge

Here's the first ever comic on RHMS and if I'm not mistaken it's my 10th post. Hehe. This comic is dedicated to my cousin Li Jin who just went for NS in Singapore. It's rather fitting once you look at it. ;)

...Click Me...
...the picture not the words...

That was the eagle's revenge. Hope the dairy chocolate cockroaches enjoy it.
*Read horizontally left to right (3 lines)
EDIT: In case you have no idea where this came from on my blog, refer to my very first post.

Saturday, April 7, 2007

A New RHMS Image: New Energy Same PLINk

Fuzzy wuzzy was the bear. Fuzzy wuzzy was his hair. And his heir. And fuzz. And thing. Wuzzee fuzzy? Yup. Wuzzee the keychain of destination? Eh wot? *Plink*
I'm confused now. The sun just lay down. I think it gave up trying to poker the moon. No money in it. Just like there's no wind where the turnips nest in autumn. Winter, spring, summer they fall. Hehe. Heh. He. H. Grizzly.
Fried chicken is full of cellulose. Fried chicken is full of a substance that tastes like chicken. Therefore cellulose tastes like chicken. True? Like Garfield's skin and bones modelling career. Off the rock-er. And mine. Phooey.
You are what you eat. So am I. I eat cow, chicken, fish, swine, vegetables, marshmallows, wait scratch the 2nd to last one. This means I'm a hybrid cow-chicken-fish-vegetable-swine-rock. At the same time people call me human (actually I'm from Mars but don't tell... I'll hunt you down with my death ray blaster gun adaptor cable speaker pen ink phone) YEA~ RUN, YOU!! Thus the definition of humans, from my point-of-you (or point-in-you if a get the knife ready), is:
hu-man-s :
1. combination of daisies and carbon fibre mixed in a smallish saucepan and gently grilled over a liquid N2 fire.
2. gummy
3. plink
The swine have spoken, the apocalypse is at hand. And with the clenching of my fist... squashed.