Mister Scribbles

    HE boy stood on the burning deck Whence all but him had fled; The flame that lit the battle’s wreck Shone round him o’er the dead. Yet beautiful and bright he stood, As born to rule the storm; A creature of heroic blood, A proud, though childlike form. The flames rolled on — he would not go Without his father’s word; That father, faint in death below, His voice no longer heard. He called aloud — "Say, father, say, If yet my task is done?" He knew not that the chieftain lay Unconscious of his so...

Like one, that on a lonesome road  Doth walk in fear and dread,  And having once turned round walks on,  And turns no more his head;  Because he knows, a frightful fiend  Doth close behind him tread.    From The Rime of the Ancient Mariner, Samuel Taylor Coleridge.  1834.

  Gully Foyle is my name And Terra is my nation. Deepest space my dwelling place, The Stars my destination. (Gulliver Foyle, common sailor, has been living in an airtight tool locker for six months.  He has no memory of how he got there.  He frequently has to pump a patched spacesuit with air and comb the wreckage of the ship to find oxygen, water and food.  The SS Nomad has been destroyed by some act of war.  Gully is at the end of his rope.  He has left the tool locker to search for food, the suit will hold 5 minutes of air and no more. Then he sees a ship).  He gave the approaching spaceship one pleading look, then shot down to the tool locker and pumped his suit full.  He mounted to the control bridge. Through the starboard observation port he saw the spaceship, stern rockets still flaring, evidently making a major alteration in course, for it was bearing down on him very slowly.  On the panel marked FLARES, Foyle pressed the DISTRESS but...

  https://www.instagram.com/sdavis.howdy/

  "Get the hell away! That's not a dog, it's some sort of thing! It's imitating a dog, it isn't real! GET AWAY YOU IDIOTS!!" https://youtu.be/NxREumyGQ_Y Norbert Wiesser as Lars, who is having a very bad day Woof.

Billy is very fond of children, especially little girls.  He often buys them treats and toys.  His neighbors have learned of this, and want to express their appreciation in person.  He will be attending a party given in his honor!

Billy D. Bunny as Hellboy.  That's his dad, Azzael, to your left.  Mike Mignola is such an awesome artist and writer that I gotta nerve drawing this, but I do have a nerve.  Hellboy's mom is a witch who repented as she lay dying, she was then put into a chained up coffin and something happens about that later on.  Just to show that I play fair here is Mr. Mignola's picture of father and son having some quality time together, allowing the alert viewer to discern the slight differences in my fanart from his wildly successful comic as to technique and ability, therein. Hellboy and Azzael, Mike Mignola, and pretty fucking good at that. https://hellboy.fandom.com/wiki/Azzael Several artists have illustrated Hellboy but the two that I like best after Mike Mignola are Richard Corben and P. Craig Russell, both of whom greatly contributed to my eventual adult instability, irresponsible outlook, and permanent escape into a world of fantastic ...

This is a Tale about a tail—a tail that belonged to a little red squirrel, and his name was Nutkin. He had a brother called Twinkleberry, and a great many cousins: they lived in a wood at the edge of a lake. In the middle of the lake there is an island covered with trees and nut bushes; and amongst those trees stands a hollow oak-tree, which is the house of an owl who is called Old Brown. One autumn when the nuts were ripe, and the leaves on the hazel bushes were golden and green—Nutkin and Twinkleberry and all the other little squirrels came out of the wood, and down to the edge of the lake. They made little rafts out of twigs, and they paddled away over the water to Owl Island to gather nuts. Each squirrel had a little sack and a large oar, and spread out his tail for a sail. They also took with them an offering of three fat mice as a present for Old Brown, and put them down upon his door-step. Then Twinkleberry and the other little squirrels each made a lo...

Johnson was born May 7, 1947 in Detroit, Michigan. He was drafted into the United States Army in 1967 and in June, 1968 was serving in Company B, 1st Battalion, 69th Armor, 4th Infantry Division in the Republic of Vietnam. His citation partially reads: “Specialist Johnson’s tank, upon reaching the point of contact, threw a track and became immobilized. Realizing that he could do no more as a driver, he climbed out of the vehicle, armed only with a .45 caliber pistol. Despite intense hostile fire, Specialist Johnson killed several enemy soldiers before he had expended his ammunition. Returning to his tank through a heavy volume of antitank rocket, small arms and automatic weapons fire, he obtained a sub-machine gun with which to continue his fight against the advancing enemy. Armed with this weapon, Specialist Johnson again braved deadly enemy fire to return to the center of the ambush site where he courageously eliminated more of the determined foe. Engaged in extremely clo...

Now if only I could play...

  https://youtu.be/pFHd10nhaLY This outstanding anthro work is from Piti Yindee, who certainly knows his classic cartoons. https://youtu.be/GlRoFTsWD6Y    Awesome. https://www.youtube.com/@PitiYindee    We'll be seeing more from Mr. Yindee, and I don't mean a postcard!

(Ransom has defeated Professor Edward Weston in a brutal fight, the doctor has fled to two waiting fish* and Ransom follows him.  Weston has called down a malevolent force into him and is probably not alive as we understand life.  Ransom was brought to Perelandra (Venus) in order to prevent The Fall upon that planet.  Weston, the Un-man, has become a living corpse spouting nonsense and malevolent obscenities when he can be understood at all).  But this is very foolish," said the Un-man. "Do you not know who I am?" "I know what you are," said Ransom. "Which of them doesn't matter." "And you think, little one," it answered, "that you can fight with me? You think He will help you, perhaps? Many thought that. I've known Him longer than you, little one. They all think He's going to help them--till they come to their senses screaming recantations too late in the middle of the fire, mouldering in concentration camps, writhin...

  https://www.deviantart.com/leothefox/gallery    Prepare to view wonders!

The three little rabbits Had really bad habits,  And they began to cry- Oh Reader Dear, look here look here We're starting to think we can fly! I did not make it clear that these rabbits are smoking weed.  I never cease to be shocked by the behavior of Billy and his friends. Shocked!