Patches the Immortal: Part Two

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As Patches lay dying, her life did not flash before her eyes. It swam.

As the last, dim spark of light faded from her shattered body, Patches remembered the first time she swam. In her first year on planet Earth, Patches had grown from a tiny, trembling kitten to an agile young huntress. The sunlight gleamed in the luster of her soft white fur between the blotches of coffee and chocolate colors in her calico coat. She had grown large enough to take down a bird from time to time. Anything smaller than her on the ground was child’s play.

But lately, the birds had found less fatal places to eat besides her hunting ground. So, she began scouting small human encampments. She smelled meat. Patches had no idea her forest, the same one she had crawled to from the wreckage so long ago, bordered on a State Park. But, she knew meat when she smelled it. Campers always brought food.

The scent of dogs nearby held Patches low to the ground, and still. The group of humans under her watchful eyes today had all kinds of food. An aromatic feast called to her. Scanning the campsite, she found all the humans gathered at a small fire a few meters past the far side of a picnic table. Between Patches and the picnic table stood only a couple meters of flat, grass-covered ground. It looked like an easy run, but for a moment she would be in plain sight and unprotected. She could make it.

She lifted her belly only slightly from the ground, quickly wiggled her hindquarters three times, and shot into the clearing. One meter. Clear. Two meters. Jump! Onto the top of the picnic table she jumped, landed, and skidded to a stop. So many scents! A plate of raw chicken marinated in lemon and garlic. Stale beer in an open can drew tiny gnats and flies. Patches snapped up an entire package of beef jerky in her teeth and turned to face the forest again.

At the sound of her skidding on the tabletop, a large dog perked up his ears. Past the humans at their fire, his head shot up from a clump of bushes. His eyes grew wide when the calico cat on the picnic table came into focus. He barked the instant Patches leapt off the table.

Patches hit the ground running. The dog bolted past the humans. Patches had a good lead. One meter. Clear. Two meters. Clear! Into the forest she ran as fast as her legs could carry her.

But the hound kept on running, too. Patches heard two more barking voices join the fray. The startled sounds the humans made drifted quickly into the distance, but the barks grew closer with every meter.

If Patches had stopped to think, she would have died. But she did not think. She ran. She ran like hell. And then, she almost ran out of forest. Directly in her path stood a tree. It had grown at an angle, like a ramp, twenty meters into the air. The tip of its main trunk extended out and over an enormous river running perpendicular to Patches’ path. Patches could turn either left or right and follow the river. Or, she could stay full speed ahead.

As Patches’ front paws fell to meet the trunk of this questionable escape route, teeth gripped her left back leg and yanked her into the air. Bash! Her head struck the ground as a tooth scraped the bone in her leg. Her claws sunk into something soft and the dog opened his mouth to howl. His two companions had closed in to just a couple of meters.

Thick bulbs of blood welled up from the lacerations in Patches’ leg. As she regained her footing, a sudden gush of adrenaline poured into her system. She felt nothing but keenly alert. The dog lunged at her again as her world came into sharp focus. In one jump, she scooped up the bag of stolen beef jerky in her mouth and hit the tree trunk running.

By the time the dog had turned around, she was meters up the trunk already. Like a white and cocoa blur, she ran until there was no tree left to run. Then, she leapt into the air.

The river looked up at her from twenty meters down and foamed. It watched her paws kick wildly as if she tried to fly, and it laughed. She hung like a cloud for the smallest part of a second. Then, the river swallowed her up.

It bashed her into a rock. Patches kicked out wildly towards what she hoped was the surface. She gasped a breath of air before plunging down again. She held her breath until white stars begin to explode before her closed eyes. For a second or two, before she lost consciousness, she calmly watched this imaginary light show floating with a strange detachment.

Then, the river spat her up. Patches found herself in the midst of a wide but calm stretch of the river, far around the bend, out of earshot from the dogs. Only seconds could have passed, but the river had sped her far, far away. And to her surprise, the bag of beef jerky popped up right beside her on the water. She snapped it up and paddled towards the shore.

Once out of the cold water, the pain in her leg began to howl. Limping, she dragged the bag of meat to a small cavern of roots and dirt by the shore. She held the plastic bag down with one paw and ripped it apart with her teeth.

Water. She knew it could kill her. It also carried her away to safety, like some magic power. Patches thought of other things she feared. She wondered if everything scary had some kind of magic power, too. She had learned to thrive on land. She had dared water and come out on top. What else could one cat possibly conquer on this planet?

Patches lifted her head, peering into the boundless blue sky above her.

meteor mags character sketches_patches2


As the gravity of the Ghost Moon pulled in The Queen Anne’s Revenge, Meteor Mags kicked free from her seat. “Hang tight, Tarzi,” she shouted from across the cabin where she landed. “You don’t want to slam into something when free fall is over.”

Patches’ body lifted off the ground like a specter. Mags scooped her up. “Take Patches and get ready to bring her to me.”

“Got her.” Tarzi held Patches close as Mags kicked off again, crossing the length of the cabin. She brought her arms together over her head in a diving posture. Tarzi watched her fly to the armory in the back. “What the hell do you mean we hit them with the GravGens, anyway?”

The walls of the ship had rails and handholds placed in strategic places for getting around in zero gravity environments. They never got used when the GravGens were running. Mags gripped one tightly in her left hand at the door to her armory.

She pulled open a panel on the wall with her right hand. Without any power running to the electronic entry, Mags accessed her armory with a manual combination lock. She quickly spun the wheel of the lock first one way and then the other. “They took out our weapons power, so I got more power. And the only place to get it was the GravGens. How do you think they generate the gravitational field on the ship so we’re not always upside down or floating around?” Mags ran the combination through the first ten prime numbers in the repeating decimal of pi.

“I barely know how an electric car works, auntie!”

“Well, when I spliced those cables, we hit them with all the charge in our batteries plus all the gravity waves the damn things could generate in one pulse. We’re lucky we’re not in the middle of a black…” The Queen Anne’s Revenge suddenly began to accelerate. “Damn it, we’re going into this upside down! Get ready to bring me Patches.”

Mags pulled open the armory door. She pushed herself away from the wall towards the back of the armory. Mid-flight, the increasing acceleration slammed her into back wall. She slid down the wall towards the inverted ceiling. “Oof! Now or never, Tarzi!” Steadying herself with another handhold, Mags flipped three latches and yanked open a panel on the wall.

“Here we come!” Tarzi cradled Patches’ limp body in his arms as he bolted across the ceiling at his feet. “Let me grab on here,” he said, standing next to Mags. Then his eyes grew wide. “Mags, where did you get that?”

“Fuckin’ nice, isn’t it?” From the open compartment on the wall, Mags slid out a large chamber on a rack. The chamber looked much like an iron lung.

“There’s only twelve people in the system who can afford a stasis unit.” Tarzi had read about them but never seen one in person.

“That’s why I didn’t pay for it, LOL! Now help me get her in there before we catch fire.” The stasis unit was a cylinder, with half of it opening on a set of hinges on the longest axis. Mags pulled it open by a handle.

“Catch… what? That’s the plan?”

Taking Patches from Tarzi, Mags strapped her in place inside the stasis unit as gently as she could. She stood with her back to Tarzi as she explained. “I have an emergency backup, but we’re going to have to unsplice those wires, hook up the GravGens and the power right, and give it about five minutes to charge.”

“And we’ve got time to do all that before we turn into a blazing fireball?”

“If not, then we’ll die like dogs. With blood on our teeth and hate in our eyes.”

Tarzi stared at her for a moment. “Auntie… did I ever tell you how much I admire your sensitive way of saying things?”

Mags’ hands tensed their grip on the chamber for a second, and then she chuckled. “STFU, you idiot.” She sniffed and wiped a tear from her eye. It fell from her glove and dropped to the ceiling at her feet.

Tarzi put his hand on her shoulder. “I read these units can keep someone on the edge of death for as long as five years. If there’s anything we can do for her…”

Mags crossed one arm in front of her and brought her hand up to rest on Tarzi’s. “I’m sorry, dear, but I haven’t had time to charge this one since I… well, picked it up off a mean old geezer who won’t be needing it.” Mags closed the unit and began flipping latches into place all down its length. “She’s got more like five hours.” Mags pressed a button, and the chamber, running on its own battery, came to life with a low hum.

“There,” she said. “Now, let’s see if we can get out of this without dying.”


As Mags and Tarzi began rewiring her impromptu gravity laser, the crew of the slaver command ship had its talons full as well.

“Seal off the damage!” ordered Commander Cragg. The blast had spared him and the officers on deck, but had decimated the ship. It turned them head over heels again and again.

Major Karn called out, “Commander, it’s more than a third of the ship.” He struggled to read the numbers on the screen before him as the ship hurtled away from the Ghost Moon end over end. “Safety airlocks engaged, but we have failures in sector… sector…”

“Nevermind! Do we have engine power?” asked Cragg.

“We have backup power to essential life support! Engine control may have been knocked out by that blast. Trying to get them online, sir!”

Cragg hissed and seethed. “Curses!” He dug his talons into his seat. Though his ship spun out of control, he knew he would survive. If they could seal off the damaged wreckage, the vacuum of space would extinguish the fires. Another ship would come to find them. But, Cragg also knew the High Council would not take the loss of his command ship lightly.

“Damn you, Meteor. Damn you to hell.”


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The Queen Anne’s Revenge began to burn. “Do you have it reconnected?” asked Mags.

The ship’s angle had turned. They hurtled through the upper atmosphere of the Ghost Moon on their side. “I think so!” Tarzi smacked his head into a panel. “GAH! This would be hard enough right side up!”

Mags reviewed Tarzi’s attempt to reconnect the power cables in the GravGens. “Looks good! I got the main power lines and weapons spliced back together.” Mags grunted with exertion as she slammed the levers back in place. She wiped the back of her glove across her forehead. “Damn, it’s hot. Get back in your seat!”

Tarzi scrambled for his seat. He jumped as it jutted out at a 45-degree angle from above him.

“Let me help you.” Mags got under Tarzi and pushed him up towards the seat. Out the front window of The Queen Anne’s Revenge, a white hot fireball blazed as the outer hull screamed through the stratosphere.

“Strapped in!” Tarzi held down a hand to Mags. She took it and steadied herself as she climbed up into her seat.

Mags whispered. “Either that backup battery completes a charge cycle or we cook alive, dear. Let’s hope it’s not the…”

KZZZT. KZZZZT. The ship’s radio crackled.

“What the…” Tarzi turned the volume dial. “We must be picking up something on the passive antenna. Listen!”

Mags shielded her eyes from the blinding flare of fire outside as the acceleration pushed them back into their seats.


“Four minutes! Hang on!”

KZZZT. KZZZZZT. Through the static came a voice. “final record of my li…. ..ab …is machine can heal… all manner of… it can end… KZZZT.”

“What’s it saying?” asked Mags. “There can’t be anybody down there. Who is that?”

KZZZT. The radio buzzed. “…al record of my life…”

“No, listen,” said Tarzi. “It’s like a looped message. He just said that.”

KZZZZZT. “…this machine can heal … anners of sickness and disease…. KZZT.”

“Did you hear that Tarzi? It’s about some medical machine! Maybe there is a hospital on the surface with some equipment that still works. We have to check it out.”

“Based on someone’s ten thousand year-old voice mail? Jesus, auntie, talk about a long shot.”

Mags grabbed a handful of Tarzi’s shirt at his shoulder. “By the time we pull out of this and get anywhere, that stasis unit is going to run out of time! We have to do anything we can to save Patches! We have to!”

“Okay, okay! Just let me… OW!” Tarzi pulled back his hand from the console. “We’re burning up in here Mags. I can’t even touch anything!”

“Give me your shirt. Do it!”

Tarzi peeled off his shirt and thrust it at Mags. She wrapped it around the main control wheel. “There! At least when the engines kick back on, I won’t cook my hands like a steak. Hang on, Patches.”

The Queen Anne’s Revenge carved a blazing trail through the moon’s sky. Had anyone been alive to see it, they might have made a wish on it like a shooting star. But, no one at all lived on the Ghost Moon – not even the owner of the distant voice crackling over the radio again and again, repeating its litany about some strange machine.

Tarzi felt an elephant standing on his ribs and organs. The skin on his face pulled into an involuntary grimace. I am going to die, he thought, I am going to die. He fought to close his eyelids against the inferno raging mere meters from his face. The acceleration only intensified, pulling his eyes wide open. He stared against his will into the heart of a sun. His pupils ached from constricting against the glare. The speed whipped the tears from his eyes. He screamed back into the face of hell.

KACHUNK! The LED’s on the control panel blinked on, then off, then back on. The computerized systems whirred as they began booting up. Tarzi only heard the sound of his scream. He stopped, but the scream kept going. “AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!” He looked out the corner of his eye. Mags’ grey eyes behind her sunglasses stared involuntarily ahead. Her lips stretched back from her teeth in a terrible snarl, the side of her face caked with blood and streaked with tears. And then, he realized she was laughing.

Pulling herself forward by her grip on the control wheel, Mags leaned towards the control panel. She let go with her right hand, flinging it at the lever to bring the ship’s engines up to full power. The engines roared to life.

Tarzi screamed again as Mags poured on the power and accelerated into their descent. She knew she could never brake in time, so she steered into it. Mags wrestled the controls to level out the ship as Tarzi felt himself crushed even further into his seat. The Queen Anne’s Revenge began to settle into a smooth curve. It slowly pulled up, up, up from its nightmarish descent. Tarzi saw white lights exploding in a black sea before his eyes and knew he was losing consciousness.

The next thing he knew, Mags was shaking him gently. “Tarzi. Tarzi. Wake up. Wake up.” Mags snapped her fingers in front of his face.

Tarzi swatted her hand away. “Ugh. Are we dead yet? I certainly hope so.”

“No,” Mags laughed, “but you are never going to believe what I found down here. Come have a look.”


sketchbook sundays

guitar 15 card

These 5×7 greeting cards made from a scan of the acrylic painting Guitar #15 came out very pretty. With the gloss finish on the card, the colors seem especially brilliant. You can buy your own and put a message inside. We picked a quote from Albert Ayler, a ‘free’ jazz saxophonist that blew Coltrane’s mind back in the day: “Music is the Healing Force of the Universe.”

Okay let’s see what’s in the sketchbook files today. These are in-progress photos of some ink drawings we’ve been working on for the Meteor Mags series. Ink still seems magical to us. The transformation from a pencil rough to bold black lines is like a form of entertainment for us, so we snap a few pics along the way.

meteor mags sketches in progress (1)

The one above got messed up in the ink phase, but we liked the pose so much we kept going and finished her figure. We patched up the stray ink lines with some white gel pen, thinking it might still work out as a digital image if we scan it and touch it up. That’s the funny thing about ink – you don’t really get second chances with it. Screw up, and your hours of work are dead in the water. It’s quite intimidating at times!

meteor mags sketches in progress (2)

Below, a few more shots of Mags in progress in various poses, and of course above you see Patches in progress for the “cover” illustration to her story Patches the Immortal.

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Patches the Immortal: Part One

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As Patches lay dying, her life did not flash before her eyes. It crawled.

Her life began with crawling. She first remembered crawling away from the flames as a kitten. The mangled wreck of a train behind her had begun to burn. The heat singed her fur. Embers fell all around her, charring the grass. She coughed weakly between mews, but no one heard her.

The sounds of human screams and the shriek of metal ripping and falling apart meant nothing to her young ears but noise. Noise and hurt. Patches pulled herself through the grass to the dark edge of the forest without really knowing why. She only knew its cool shelter in contrast to the excruciating noise and the bright, bright burning.

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In the gnarled roots of a tree, the tiny kitten curled into a trembling ball. For how many hours the screams and the burning lasted, she did not know. Eventually they quieted down, but other sounds and lights arrived in waves. At some point, those stopped, too.

Too weak to mew any longer, Patches shivered until she fell asleep. That night, she dreamed she saw the skull of another cat. The skull faded into sight from the pure black night. It grew until it filled the sky, and the moon sat in place of an eye. Tiny Patches had no word for death, but she understood the magnitude of what she saw.

The skull cat looked down from the sky at the wreckage in the pale moonlight. Patches saw its mouth fall open. From the wreckage of the train, the ghosts of dead cats began to soar up, up, up into the open mouth. Did she know any of them? Patches wondered. From here, she could not tell.

Then, Patches dreamed her own ghost began to pull free from her body. She struggled to hold onto it. She twisted and shuddered in her sleep. Her limbs struck out wildly. A low, moaning growl built up inside her. She growled her refusal at the monstrous cat skull. Its single lunar eye turned to look at her.

As the eye of death moved over her, examining her, Patches shook as if she had been thrown in subzero water. She growled her refusal to give up her ghost to this icy, grinning horror. She growled for all she was worth. Then she saw the eye wink at her. She heard a low purr and felt a raspy tongue comb the side of her face once, and then again.

When she awoke all alone, she killed and ate the first bug she saw. Ten minutes later, she made a breakfast out of a small lizard. The finches in the bush chirped away loudly. She did not catch a bird that day. But she would.

She would not give up easily.


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The Queen Anne’s Revenge held a position just outside the orbit of one of many moons around the great ringed planet. Meteor Mags called this moon the Ghost Moon. She had heard rumors of an ancient civilization on its surface. Tarzi had joined her for a leisurely weekend of hunting for relics, salvage, or anything else of value they could resell on the black market. They planned to begin their exploration the next morning. But first, they had important business to settle.

“Alright, dear, let’s see what you got!” said Mags. “One… Two… Two and a half lol… Three… Go!” As Mags pressed the button on the timer, KA-CHAK! KA-CHAK! KA-CHAK! Tarzi dismantled the barrel of the laser pistol in three loud snaps.

Mags liked to brag about her personal record: She could field strip, clean, oil, and reassemble a laser pistol in seven and a half seconds. Tarzi refused to acknowledge this record, as they had both been pretty high when it happened. But, Mags had repeatedly shown him in more sober moments an easy twenty-three seconds.

BAM! BAM! BAM! Tarzi dealt out pieces of the laser housing like cards, smacking the table top. In addition to components resembling the barrel of a semi-automatic handgun, a laser pistol had additional pieces. Instead of a clip of bullets, the pistol generated its own “rounds” in a series of chambers. These chambers could be disassembled and all their moving parts cleaned.

Mags glared at the timer. “You’ll never beat the record! Give it up! Give it up, POSER!” Mags took an evil satisfaction in the scowl that passed over her nephew’s face. “Don’t get all upset, poser! The battle rages around you! It’s loud! It’s noisy! You can’t even think straight!” Mags waved her hands in the air, her black gloves tracing paths of imaginary ships and bombs speeding over their heads. Patches jumped up on the table where Tarzi dealt out the pieces of the pistol. She meowed loudly, plaintively, pawing the air. Mags laughed at her and continued her rant.

They faded to less than a whisper in Tarzi’s ears. He only heard his favorite band, The Swans. Tarzi imagined them bashing a massive, droning chord from their guitars and drums in unison. Over and over again they droned this monstrous chord. Tarzi found that by focusing on that pulse, he could slow it down. In his mind, the spaces between the hammering beats grew wider and wider. He had begun speed-reading all of his school books in this meditative state, absorbing thousands of pages in a matter of hours. His hands flew over the parts of the pistol.

He sprayed solvent over each component. The solvent came from a small tube that fit in his holster, just like Mags wore on hers. She insisted they have the resources to keep their weapons in perfect condition no matter where they went. Each holster, therefore, included a small field kit. Tarzi grabbed the bristle brush and ran it through the barrel and pieces from the laser housing. The brush caught and flew out of his hand, rolling meters away from the table.

“Take it easy, poser!” Mags taunted mercilessly. Tarzi’s hands became a blur as the pieces of the pistol seemed to fly back together all by themselves. CHAK! CHAK! CHAK! Click click click KA-CHAK! Tarzi clicked the laser power back on as he brought the pistol up to eye level and set his thumb at the safety. “GO!” he barked.

“Whoo-hoo!” Mags jumped out of her chair. She had let her hair down, and a sea of white curls spilled across her shoulders and down her back. Her black leather boots smacked onto the deck of The Queen Anne’s Revenge. “Tarzi!” She ran to her nephew’s side and held the timer up for him to see the display.

A wide smile formed on Tarzi’s face. Then, he squinted his eyes and peered at Mags. “You totally added that half second on there, cheater.”

“What?! I did not! That’s twenty-three and a HALF seconds, fair and square!” She scruffed his hair with one black-gloved hand. “You’re almost as good as me, little man. But you’ll never beat my record.”

“Whatever,” said Tarzi. “You are such a cheater. And a poser, too!”

“Ha ha ha! Now I’M a poser, is it?”

“Auntie,” said Tarzi, holstering the pistol and setting it on the table, “you don’t even know what the name of your own house band means. Total poser.”

“Who? The Psycho 78s?” asked Mags. “The hell I don’t! I know ALL the words to that song.” Mags pulled the black tinted bangs down from her white mane of hair into an impromptu devil lock. “Too much horror business, driving late at night!” she yelled.

Tarzi pumped his fist in the air and shouted with her, “Psycho seventy eight!” They thrashed about the deck of the ship. “You don’t go in mah baaaaath-room – WITH ME!”

Patches leapt down from the table and ran in mad circles. “Psycho seventy eight! Twelve o’clock don’t be late!” She howled along as Mags and Tarzi sang. “I’ll put a knife – right in you! Warnin’ You! I’ll put a knife – right in you!” Tarzi fell out laughing. Mags plopped back in her chair. “Ha ha ha ha! Call me a poser will you?”

“Yeah, but auntie, you don’t even know what movie that song is based on.”

“A movie?” asked Mags. “Who’s ever got time to sit still for two hours?”

Suddenly, an impact sent them sprawling across the cabin floor of The Queen Anne’s Revenge. The hull reverberated with its echo. Mags and Tarzi scrambled to regain their seats as the slaver command ship came into view.

Then, it fired again.


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Commander Cragg crushed the tiny mammal in his grip. Its eyes bulged wildly from its head, held in place to stare into Cragg’s reptilian eye. The beast thrashed as best it could. Then, its life popped like a startled bubble and vanished. “What is it, Major?”

Major Karn stood at attention before Cragg. “We found her, Commander. And the situation has changed in our favor.”

“Tell me the good news,” hissed Cragg. He tossed the dead mammal into his open mouth and gulped it down.

“The pirate has now become a military target, sir. With the death of the local shipping magistrate and destruction of his port, the Council upgraded her from a shipping nuisance to a military target. It’s out of shipping’s hands now – and into ours.” Major Karn reported this news with pride. He had kept a watchful eye as events unfolded. Karn knew his commander obsessed with this pirate, though he did not know why.

Karn could not have known that Cragg had engineered this occasion. His spies had taken up positions in that port with the express order to create security gaps. These same spies, through their network, tipped Meteor Mags to the lax security schedules. Cragg calculated that if the dock patrols could not kill her, he could seek her reassignment as a military target. The annoying little pirate had taken care of that herself.

Cragg’s scaly lips peeled back in a grin that showed off a mouth full of daggers. “Excellent news, indeed, Major. Let us give those idiots in shipping a lesson in pest control, shall we? Request the assignment for our Command Ship.”

“Done, sir! And easily enough. We are the closest ship and the best equipped. The mission is ours. We have been tracking her, and will arrive at her current position in three hours.” Karn stood tall. Though harsh and utterly unforgiving, Cragg rewarded those who helped him achieve his ends.

“You please me, Major. I haven’t heard such good news in…” Cragg smiled to himself. “In quite some time. Have the galley bring a crate of these furry little things up to the bridge. All the officers should have time to eat before we intercept her.” Cragg took a moment to groom himself as his Major saluted and left the room.

The computer showed Cragg their trajectory. They would approach Meteor’s position from the opposite side of the ringed planet, where she sat unprotected just outside the orbit of one of its moons. They would slip out of the shadow of her blind spot to be on top of her before she knew it. Then, she would die for what she had done.

And Cragg knew so, so many things she had done.


As the slaver command ship’s second salvo shook The Queen Anne’s Revenge, a panel exploded inside the cabin. It smashed into Patches. It flung her across the room, pinning her body against a wall on the opposite side of the deck. “Patches!” yelled Tarzi. Tarzi, also sent flying into the wall by the blast, fell to the floor.

“Patches!” Mags turned, but could not see Patches at all. Mags ran across the cabin and lifted the exploded panel. Her gloves protected her from its sharp edges. She saw Patches lying on the ground. Blood seeped from her ears, nose, and mouth. One of her paws stuck out at the wrong angle. “No!”

Tarzi held a hand to his head and looked out the window. “Fascists! They’re going to fire again!” Tarzi leapt into his seat and tried to bring up the main weapons. “Mags! The guns are down!”

Tears streamed from Mags’ eyes. Kneeling on the floor, she picked up Patches’ body and held it to her chest. She could not feel Patches breathe at all. Mags held Patches close as a mask of rage fell over her face. “Motherfuckers!” Setting Patches down, she ran to the hole in the wall where the panel once hung. “Get us out of their line of fire NOW, Tarzi!”

Tarzi had already begun to pull The Queen Anne’s Revenge away from the slaver command ship. Mags reached her entire arm into the smoking, crackling circuits on the wall. Then, she pulled. She drew two cables from the wall. Mags flung open a door on a nearby panel and drew two thick cables from it, too. A flash of light illuminated the cabin as the next shot from the command ship streaked by just meters from them. “Nice flying, ace! Keep it up!”

“We’re sitting ducks out here, Mags! That thing is huge.” Tarzi wiped the sweat from his forehead where a bruise had begun to form.

“Keep me alive five more seconds, dear,” whispered Mags. Blood and tears stained her cheeks. The black smoke from the weapons panel dirtied her hair and the side of her face. She did not recall getting cut, and she did not care. Mags took two couplers and connected the second pair of cables to the first. She screwed the couplers tight as they cut through the cables’ shielding and spliced the wires inside. Mags jumped to her feet, kicked them aside, and pulled two levers in the smoking weapons panel.

“If they hit us again, we’re dead meat, Tarzi,” she said, slamming down into her chair. “Can you get a lock on them now?”

“But the weapons are…”

“Can you get a lock on them now!” shouted Mags.

Tarzi’s hands flew over the controls for a second. “Yes! Got them.”

“Then strap in!” Mags locked her seat strap in place. “This is for Patches, you sons of…” Mags slammed her fist down on the firing control. An unbelievably brilliant blue light engulfed The Queen Anne’s Revenge. It shot from the ship’s main cannons, searing the gulf of space between her and the slaver command ship.

Tarzi shielded his eyes. He could not see, but the light smashed into the command ship, shearing off a third of it into a mist of shrapnel. The force sent the command ship hurtling away from them into space. It also sent The Queen Anne’s Revenge in the opposite direction, into the gravitational pull of the nearby moon. “Take that, you reptilian fucks!” shouted Mags.

“What the bloody hell was that, auntie? I got nothing here!” Tarzi tried in vain to pilot the ship, but the controls would not respond. He felt his guts churn as they went into freefall. The moon spun into Tarzi’s view as he forced his lunch back down.

Mags grabbed the front of Tarzi’s shirt and pulled him towards her. “Keep it together, Tarzi! We just hit them with our GravGens, do you hear me?”

“The GravGens? That’s not even… That shouldn’t be possible.”

“It IS possible. It’s just suicide! We’ve got no gravity, no weapons, and no power. Now you’ve got to help me with Patches!” Mags looked into Tarzi’s eyes, watching them flash from confusion, to terror, and, at last, resolve.

And then, The Queen Anne’s Revenge began to fall from the sky.


song lyric credits:
The Misfits, Horror Business

guitars 21 and 22

We have some large canvases to do more paintings in our guitar series. But, we also have all these used student-level canvases and almost empty tubes of paint from our other projects. So, let’s see if we can make something pretty for our walls out of them.

painting studies 2 (1)

Our art teacher had given us a tube of magenta to try last year, and its become one of our favorite colors to paint with. This was a somewhat sad occasion, as we used up the last little bit of that tube on this canvas. But we like space and cosmic stuff, so we imagined the creative forces: nebula and star formation and supernovae giving birth to the molecules of everything we are. Bob Ross liked to make worlds on his paintings. We like making universes.

painting studies 2 (2)

The colors really pop out with a glossy spray-on lacquer finish in outdoor light.

painting studies 2 (2a)

Starving! Time for a sandwich. Since we are so into pumas, we decided to try eating deer. A nearby store carries frozen ground venison. We have had some wild deer meat in Michigan, courtesy of the deer hunters there, but this stuff must be farm-raised. It’s nearly indistinguishable from beef and makes delicious puma-power sandwiches.

painting studies 2 (3)

The next painting used up the last of our art teacher’s yellow tube of Liquitex paint and the rest of a very lovely Van Dyke Brown made by Holbein. Also in the mix: mars yellow (a kind of brownish yellow) and violet.

painting studies 2 (5a)

painting studies 2 (5b)

Even after a pretty background of copper, black, and van dyke brown, this one said to add more layers. How about a black wash, sprayed with rubbing alcohol several times as it dries, to make hole where the colors underneath show through?

painting studies 2 (5c)

It looked sort of muddy indoors at this point, so we took it outside. Suddenly all the colors popped out.

painting studies 2 (5d)

Oh look, some new white gel pens arrived! We have been looking for something to draw in white combined with drawing in black in Sharpie. These came to us recommeded by a sketch artist on Reddit.

painting studies 2 (6)

Let’s see if the pens work on a painted canvas.

painting studies 2 (7)

The colors dont stand out so brilliantly indoors, but it’s a lot nicer than the old painting on it from a year and a half ago. That’s the great thing about student-level canvases. You can feel free to experiment and explore. And if you hate the results, just paint over it with white and start again!

painting studies 2 (7a)

some more of them were destroyed

Here are a couple new studies of a Jack Kirby tribute, along with some notes about making them. Enjoy!

painting studies 1 (1)

The last year and a half of painting left us with some odds and ends: almost empty tubes of paint, canvases that had a small defect, and paintings that never panned out. So, what if we take all this clutter and try to work out an idea for our next project?

painting studies 1 (1a)

We got some house paint from the hardware store – interior acrylic, semi-gloss, ultra-white house paint makes awesome primer. Can you get gesso for $30 a gallon? You can at Ace Hardware lol. Anyway, we primed the shit out our gnarly old canvases and got some blank slates for experimenting with.

painting studies 1 (2)

Then we were like, let’s just make huge colorful messes and not worry about how they turn out.

painting studies 1 (2a)

Our art teacher had given us some paints to try last year – like a bold, comic-book style yellow from Liquitex. It looks great in washes so let’s make some.

painting studies 1 (3)

Our art teacher also warns us not to fall in love with our colorful backgrounds. But, we always do it anyway. We just hang them on the walls for a few days and enjoy them as purely abstract art.

painting studies 1 (3a)

Why not try using Sharpie marker to draw the black areas on the canvas? We are working from a marker sketch of an old Jack Kirby comic book page. The working title of the piece we have in mind is a quote from the page: “and one of them was destroyed!” So all we need is black shapes on this canvas, really.

The small one came out okay. Well, we did two small ones, and one was a total disaster. It went back in the primer pile! But the other was pretty close to what we imagined, so let’s tackle a big one.

painting studies 1 (4)

painting studies 1 (4a)

These color washes came out especially nice. The yellow is a Liquitex artist paint and the dioxazine purple is Basics from the craft store. They mixed in really interesting ways with the white hardware store paint and splashes of water.

painting studies 1 (4b)

painting studies 1 (5a)

Oh, look. Mom sent us a little card with a puma drawing on it :) It now has a place of honor among other pumas we love, near the 150-watt Hafler power amplifier that drives our studio monitors.

painting studies 1 (5b)

Speaking of music, somewhere in the middle of this color explosion we got a request to be a DJ at a kind of internet fundraiser party. There was a 1960s theme, so we made a set list of freakbeat from the UK and some American retro rock. We stopped by Big Lots and picked up inexpensive yet highly psychedelic socks for the occasion.

painting studies 1 (5d)

It went over well. The attendees from the UK had some touching memories to share about hearing those freakbeat tunes on 45 RPM vinyl as kids. They shared some fun stories with us. In the midst of this cultural exchange, we also managed to raise enough funds to plant seventeen trees in Costa Rica as part of a non-profit reforestation project.

painting studies 1 (5c)

It was truly far out, man.

painting studies 1 (6)

Ok so let’s paint some more! After sketching only the most basic guidelines in pastel on the canvas, we just freehanded the marker.

painting studies 1 (6a)

It looked cool with the marker but just wasn’t quite there yet. So, we took black arcylic paint and went over almost all of the Sharpie. Then, we added washes of ultramarine blue and violet to the “sky” in the background, and some watered-down white to the clouds to differentiate everything a little better.

painting studies 1 (6b)

Normally we don’t like buying spray stuff, but we had accidentally come into ownership of some spray-on lacquer finishes. What the heck, let’s spray these suckers and hang them on the wall.

painting studies 1 (7)

That leaves us with an unfinished color wash, perhaps for one more comic-book themed study.

sketchbook sundays

camera man 5x7 - Copy

Camera Man
Micron fine-point pens and Sharpie marker

Buy a huge acrylic wall hanging of it for no particular reason.

Mantis and Cactus Flowers

mantis and cactus flower 1 - zoomed

Today is the first day we’ve seen the cactus in the front yard burst into bloom overnight. Perhaps it liked the rain we got yesterday. To make the event more rare, we have never seen a preying mantis here in the urban desert either. But this morning, when we stopped to admire the flowers, one tiny mantis had already staked a claim to them.

mantis and cactus flower 1

We suppose if the flowers attract ants, bees, and other pollinators, then this is the mantis version of a hunting shanty or hidden fishing hole. Maybe the mantis will chop the heads off little bugs and stick them on the cactus spikes like trophies. How awesome would that be? We’ll check in on mantis later and see how the hunt goes.

mantis and cactus flower 2

Oops, we disturbed the mantis. See how it moves down into the spikes? Smart thinking, mantis. Now sit still!

mantis and cactus flower 3

mantis and cactus flower 4

mantis and cactus flower 5


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