By Azathoth, this comic took a long time. The burning globe, the octopus in the wheel, it was like a nightmare that would cause your dream journal to shrivel if you were to ever attempt to record it. Is that an apt metaphor? I’ve always used dream stenographers. They shrivel and burst into flame also quite frequently, unfortunately. They don’t grow on trees, thanks to science’s backwards priorities.

Speaking of excessive casualties, many slave workers perished as they tried to color this comic. When Slorg finally fell, (the last Slorg. All my workers are named Slorg.) I was forced to get up from my dread chair and put my raptorial limbs to hard work. Was it worth it? Was it worth letting my soda warm in my dread chair’s cup holder? Getting my feet dirty as I strode across the bodies of my employees?

Sometimes life gives us no easy answers.

I’ve refilled your water feeder, so you should last until Friday, yeah? If you run out and get thirsty, remember that the guy next to you is 80% water.