After holing himself up in his room for most of the evening, my son Beefcake, age 9, came down and excitedly shared his latest creation with me. This is the same Beefcake who cries at movies with his dear old dad. Who is the star of so many cool memories. My sweet little boy who plays basketball every Saturday morning, smiling at the fun of it all, staring down the referees with his steely gaze . . .
. . . and now he writes graphic novels. And I do mean graphic. He provided the narration, as recorded . . .
You’ve been warned . . .
One day, two enemies met at a death cliff.
“Huh? Why didn’t you die?!”
“Take that! My gun is bigger than yours!”
“Huh? Who are you?! What’s going on?!”
“I gotta try this . . .”
“Why isn’t this thing working?!”
“Huh? Where did this come from?”
An innocent victim . . .
“Huh? A MONKEY!?”
“Sit here and hold still for me, will ya?”
“Steady . . .”
Part 2 oughta be a doozy . . .