Comics by Shaenon II

[Professor_Tinker]

... I wouldn't worry about length. Seriously. We tend to average one to four paragraphs, easy.

[Jane Narbon]

Claire: Given recent events, I'd like to make you an offer now.

[Desius]

Sorry wolfin I try to keep it lively but we really need more people in the practice to make it start jumping.

[That Guy]

Claire: Given recent events, I'd like to make you an offer now.

Jane don't hurry too much. Izydora will be gone by the end of this chapter maybe, just maybe. I'm not sure how I'm going to play her leaving.

[Claire]

If you still want to hire me, Miss Narbon, I can wait until after the thing with Izydora is resolved, even if it takes a while. Just let me know if/when I should come in.

[JanetTor]

~*~ Another city, a few days ago... ~*~

“Hey. You ever read the original tale of Aladdin? After Aladdin gets his wishes from the genie, he’s got everything – he’s filthy rich and married to a beautiful princess, making him heir to the throne to boot. He puts the genie’s lamp on the highest shelf in his bedroom, and vows not to use it again.

“One day, while Aladdin’s out, a man comes to the palace, with an incredible deal: he’ll exchange all old pots, pans, (and yes, lamps) for bright, shiny new ones. The servants grow busy enough taking advantage of the man’s business that even Aladdin’s wife becomes interested, and throws the magic lamp to the old seller in the courtyard.

“Instantly Aladdin is stripped of his wife, his riches, and the entire palace. Everything is transported elsewhere. As Aladdin returns to what was once his home, his uncle is somewhere laughing...

“What do you think of that? Speaks volumes, doesn’t it? About hubris and fallacies and such?” Janet Torvalds leaned forward to grin impishly at her captive, a skinny man whose limbs are bound with yellow happy-face ties.

“I’ll find you,” he growled. “I’ll hunt you down for this.”

“I’m sure you will. The neural chaff will keep you from escaping too quickly. By the time you can think straight enough to come after me, I’ll be Somebody Else’s Problem,” she added, lovingly patting the small metal cube hanging from her belt.

The captive blanched. “You stole that too?”

Janet rolled her eyes and reached for a syringe of shimmering gray liquid. “You didn’t learn anything from Aladdin’s story, did you? Dr. Gluon – sir – I’m just the Janitor. You invited me in. It may be my fault you’re tied up in your underground bunker in your skivvies, but I believe very strongly that you needed to fall.” She found a vein and injected the hapless Mad with the contents of the syringe, watching as his eyes went fuzzy from the strain of trying to follow any train of thought.

“’Bye, Derek, babe!” she called, slamming the heavy door shut behind her. “Just think of it as – haha – the price of a happy ending! Mwa-heh-heh. Mehe. Mwa-ha-hAHAHA~!”


~*~ Present day, in a certain well-known city ~*~

Casual passersby may have wondered about the homeless woman getting off the Charington bus. How had she earned enough money to make the trip between cities? Why was she dressed in tattered clothes if she had? And then there was her age. Wasn’t she young enough to still have a future? Surely a job at McDonalds would have at least kept her finger-bones and ribs hidden. But there was something about her eyes that withered questions before they were asked. Those eyes were old beyond her years, and always slightly unfocused, as though she was constantly looking back at some hard past.

The homeless woman weaved down the street from the bus station, making her way by whimsy rather than any sense of direction. As she walked, something curious happened... she appeared to be getting dirtier the further she walked. Finally, the woman gave a glad cry and pulled a refrigerator box out from behind a dumpster. She dragged it into a nearby alley, tearing away part of a side for entry.

Satisfied with her work, the woman reached into a pocket and withdrew a small metal cube, which she tapped, and then placed just within the cardboard box.

“Well, that’s done,” Janet said, plopping onto the cement.

“You can get off now,” she added. The dirt she’d accumulated seemed to boil off her body to pool around her feet instead. “I appreciate the welcome. I’m sure I’ll get to know most of you very quickly.”

The dirt rippled sheepishly.

“So tell me about the city,” Janet said to the dust mites, and they obliged.

“That many Mads, huh?” she murmured, when they were through. “I mean, I knew, but... Wow. There’ll be no lack of work, I suppose.”

The dust mites bounced their agreement.

“I hate to put you to work so quickly, but would those of you living with Mads deliver these for me?”

The dust mites, making a mass movement that could only be translated as “Pshaw,” were only too happy to receive the flyers that read:

“Let the Janitor Work Her Magic on Your Home, Lab, or Hideout!
The best price around – ten dollars plus your trash (no stealing – you approve what gets taken first)! Secrecy guaranteed! And best of all, a well-scrubbed, organized lab that will cause your enemies to bow to your superior skills!
The Janitor will visit you soon to answer any questions and schedule cleanings.
Don’t call us... we’ll find you.”

As the dust mites began trickling back to their homes, Janet called softly, “Do any of you live with the Professor – ah, Andrew Tinker?” A patch of the mites halted and inched their way back towards the woman in the hobo outfit. She took their copy of the flyer and put it in her box. “Sorry guys, but he’ll just have to wait.”

The remaining dust mites scurried away, discussing the way the nice baggy lady had suddenly seemed so tall and, well, clean as she smiled at them. And the Janitor, standing beside her box in the midst of a Somebody Else’s Problem Field, began to cackle.


(Sorry - I know "Janet" is only one letter away from "Jane." I just couldn't resist making the punny pseudonym. If it's any comfort, most people will only know her as "the Janitor" or, when in hobo wear, "Alice.")

[Desius]

Ohhh! Fresh meat!
In the words of Zombie Des (Minion from planet 312a487d), may I say the formal welcoming speech in his quaint regional dialect:
BRAINS!
BRrrr...aaains!
Arrghh... Brains!

Sorry I mixed a little bit of Street Zombie into it, but honestly, it's a shame for what passes as a member of the shambling dead these days. And with the recent explosion of New Age Zombieism culture, it's hard not to let all the new street slang slip into your proper zombie cant.

Sigh, I remember when you could Braaaiiiiins! for a couple Brrraiins.... now its all brraainns... Bbrains... bRaInS.
Shame really.

[JanetTor]

Brains? B-b-brains? Braaains... Brain-brains.

Yeah, I don't know Zombie. I hope I sounded humorously inept? Or at least philosophically vague?

I meant to say thank you, though. Please, take a coupon.

Free! Your pick of the technological marvels the Janitor creates with your trash!

What? You're a hench? I prefer clean for Mads, but you've been so welcoming...

[Professor Zobot]

Welcome, JaneTor!

You know, it's really nice to have more people around here. It reminds me of an old saying. "You never know when-"

*Sees Zombie Desius out of the corner of his eye* "UNDEAD SCOURGE AT 7 O'CLOCK!" *He whips out several firearms and begins unloading them at Zombie Des in rapid succession. Once he's done, he turns around. "So anyways...I kinda forgot what I was saying, but welcome anyway. Do you do restaurant-related trash? I kinda have the remains of an old malfunctioning Ice Cream machine that I need someone to cart off for me.

[JanetTor]

Of course! Maybe you'd also be interested in my trash-rehabilitation services? I won't guarantee it'll work in... quite the way it's supposed to, but it will work!

Hmmm, ice cream... flavored snowballs? ...specialized-snowball fights... there's probably a market for that... *eyes unfocus slightly*

[Professor Zobot]

Ah...of course! I can't see anything going wrong with that!

Just be careful to change the power source. It originally was powered by human Wonderment, and that led to some odd side-effects. And try to avoid touching the Toppings dispenser. I won't give any lawsuit-incurring details, but if you try to get it to disperse Oreo chunks it may accidentally fling you into a far-flung alternate future.

[JanetTor]

Human Wonderment?! Wooow. What a great idea! Surprising it hasn't been used before...

(A few centuries ago, a cackling man with a pipe harnesses pure childhood wonder in order to annoy the children's penny-pinching parents. He successfully disappears into another dimension, only to find it entirely populated by unicorns, rainbows and sugar plum castles. Two years later he is killed in an unfortunate accident involving a giant marauding marshmallow man.)

Unfortunately, I don't think I'm good enough to fix the power source. It'd probably draw from other human emotions instead, and then things really would go wrong! No, I think a less dangerous power source would do. I personally like paper shredders. Rig them up with a bit of denim and some twine and they can run forever!

...It's too bad about the alternate future thing... I really like Oreos. A weight system to counterbalance the flinging, perhaps... But I have no hench, so testing might... B-but the Oreos... Crunchy-sugary-goodness-Oreos. Oh motherfudge. I'm going to try it anyway, aren't I? *resigned grin*