I read about this book in some agent's blog, can't remember who. The plot is very different. Jill is a seventeen year old girl who is normal in ever way except....she becomes Jack for four days a month (instead of a menstrual cycle...she has a male cycle).
I know...can you imagine the possibilities of where you can take this plot?
If you’re in South Florida (or not) – take a ride to Supercon.
Some of my favorite comics of all time:
Y The Last Man
MeatCake (Dame Darcy)
What are some of your favorites? Who is the best one out there now!?
On his way to the local bar, The Circus Kiss, THE MASK finds a second love letter on the ground by the fire hydrant The ink, smeared with yellow water, is hardly readable.
Dearest Lover, today you wrote back and you were unclear about your decision. This destroyed me as I had been waiting for any kind of response; a phone call, a letter, some flowers, a number, a book, a loose-leaf dollar. I miss you. Please come home.
Forever Yours, LL.
Taking a long slow drag from the eight inch long cigarette holder, THE MESSMAKER says “I have proved it.”
“How can you prove that people are either multipliers or dividers?”
THE MESSMAKER adjusts her multiple layers of silk shirts she wore today. Today – the hottest day of the year. THE MESSMAKER never, not even once having visited the dry cleaners – thought it was a good day to wear all her silk shirts, sweat them all, and take them all to the dry cleaners at once.
“Like THE FUNMAKER for example. She always says things like; there must have been five-hundred people at the coffee shop.”
“Oh, I see your point; she’d be classified as a multiplier.”
THE MASK lights a Cuban cigar his friend had brought him back from a visit to Cuba in 1936. ”I think you almost have a point there my dear MESSMAKER.”
“That’s because you are a divider. You clearly see I have a point and you divide it by half.”
THE MASK acting very uncool and uncollected – not like himself at all – paces up and down his Victorian living room. Today THE MESSMAKER is bringing her famous BREAD PUDDING.
She only makes “The Pudding” for the folks she extremely loves and refusing to eat it is certainly out of the question.
THE MASK walks into his blue bedroom; blue sheets, blue walls, blue floor, blue ceiling, blue mirror, and one single portrait of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart which hangs on the wall. THE MASK opens his closet hoping to find the right overcoat that may enable him to hide the BREAD PUDDING.
The only food he’d never been able to see, chew, taste, swallow, kiss or take in communion.
He had BREAD-anger. He was angry at BREAD as worms are angry at birds, as jealous lovers are angry at each other. Never in his many lifetimes had THE MASK been able to digest it. He can drink eighty-five Manhattans and feel perfectly fine but yeast? Yeast was his stomach’s biggest enemy.
Today THE MASK had to deal with BREAD PUDDING…and it contained raisins. Baked fruit was a whole other assortment of problems.
“How can I possibly tell THE MESSMAKER that I can’t eat her PUDDING? She’ll make me; I know she will make me! Then she will accuse me of having a BREAD complex, and later she will make me recite fifteen “Oh Father’s” on my knees..and possibly shirtless!”
THE MASK falls into bed. He drowns his face into the goose down pillows and slowly cries his eyeliner away.
Nothing made THE MASK cry like BREAD did.
“No. No. Nooooooooo! I wont have it!” THE MESSMAKER is making a mess of THE MASKS’ German vintage magazine collection. “If you get a pet monkey….its completely over between us. It’s either the monkey or me!”
“You’ve got to get over your fear of monkey my dear,” says THE MASK.
“I will never get over the fear. How can you not see? Their hands look like their feet! It’s creepy and I can’t drink spiked tea with a monkey watching me!”
THE MASK, like the perfect gentleman he is, promises to keep the monkey in the dark room while THE MESSMAKER is visiting. But that solution doesn’t work.
“First of all, the dark room is one of my favorite places to stop time, and third of all…everyone knows that monkeys have x-rated vision and can see through walls!” THE MESSMAKER has trouble with the order of numbers.
“Ah yes, the x-rated monkey vision. How can one forget about such details.” THE MASK quietly smirks knowing he has finally found the perfect anecdote to THE MESSMAKER’s unannounced “Bread Pudding” visits.