Awesome Adventures, web comic by Andy Porwitzky and I, ran for six months in 2010 and 2011. 2010 ended with a one-page Christmas comic written and drawn by Andy, which you can find here. As 2011 rolled in, we noticed that the comic had yet to include a female character.
The first woman to appear in Awesome Adventures starts the story gagged and bound to a chair. I’ll let you read the comic and decide if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.
If you’re interested in more of Andy’s work, you should take a look at his website, DoktorAndy.com.
Back in 2010 and 2011, my friend Andy Porwitzky and I collaborated on a short-lived series of one-shot webcomics called Awesome Adventures Comics. These comics have recently been recovered, and I intend to post them here over the next few weeks.
The first comic, “The Discount Hitman,” was Andy’s take on a silly short story I had written.
For more information about Andy’s work, head over to DoktorAndy.com for a full listing of his fiction and non-fiction publications.
Forget about your bleeding toenail. Forget about muscles that want to betray you. Forget about the you entirely. Right now, you’re nothing but the dance.
Read more at the Screamsheet!
Published in The Lyndon Review.
The purpose to her moving my computer into the bedroom was twofold. First of all, that meant that she didn’t have to go into the living room, which by then had become the victim of a hostile takeover led by spilled ashtrays, moldy bread, dusty furniture, and several roaches, each of whom I had jokingly named Fred. Secondly, it meant that she could keep an eye on me and make sure that I didn’t spend too much time at the keyboard. She made the move while I was working the night shift at the gas station down the street. By the time that I got home I had been up for seventy-two hours straight and I didn’t care enough to make a complaint. Thus I became shackled to the bedroom, leaving only to work and to make my occasional and vain attempts at putting the house back into a state that remotely resembled clean.
Published in The Lyndon Review.
Lil and I had been fighting for about two months. Even if one of us did win an individual battle, it proved to be only a cosmetic victory, patching our relationship for a few hours or maybe even a day at a time before the well-stocked armies of our tempers clashed again. In the realm of the purely physical she outmatched me every time, beating her fists against my torso and sinking her nails into my arms while I stood motionless, unwilling to retaliate. My best bet was to make her cry early on, to hurt her with words so quickly that her temper would overload like an exploding boiler and send her running out of the room wailing. When I managed this feat I could always wait to the count of sixty before following her and apologizing, making for a teary-eyed and blissfully quiet session of makeup sex and a nap before the next battle. When I didn’t manage to avoid the attack I had to wait for her to exhaust herself, which could take some time because throwing a punch required remarkably little energy from her. When she left the house in a rage I would take my defeat out on whatever inanimate object presented itself. Through this post-loss ritual I managed to throw a portable phone through the thinly plastered wall and blind myself by crumbling the metal frames of my glasses into a ball and tossing them into the pile of uncollected debris next to the brooms.
Published in character i.
The police officer is worried less about my green dress and more about the blood smeared across my face.
Published in Garbled Transmissions.
We laid naked together in her parents’ barn, watching the skies through the holes in the roof.
“Tell me about it again,” said Tracy. Brown hair fell over the olive skin of her face as she sat up. Her eyes glittered like a pair of emeralds in the evening light.
I didn’t move. My body was young, but she still had a way of wearing me out. I looked at her sleepily and smiled. “It’s all just memories from childhood. I don’t even know if they’re real.”
“Come on, Dakota.” Her voice took a pleading tone, knowingly baiting me. “Just tell me a little.”
Published in Suspense Magazine.
He walked into the prison wearing someone else’s face. The person people thought they saw actually lay bound and unconscious on his living room floor, unaware of what the impostor had planned.
Published in The Avalon Literary Review and The Binnacle.
“You never slide into first base,” said Jim. My boss had been kind enough to drive me to the emergency room, missing the rest of our game so I could get my stitches.
Originally published in The Lyndon Review.
He walks across the baseball field where we like to hang out. His left hand swings casually at his side, but his right fist lies hidden in the deep pockets of his navy blue corduroys. The crisp autumn air has left the field abandoned for weeks now, and the pitcher’s mound lies covered in the dead Technicolor of Vermont leaves. He brushes the old foliage away with his foot, never removing the secret from his pocket. Climbing onto the mound, he stands as close to heaven as either of us will ever get. He points his head toward the setting sun. His hand shoots out to follow his line of vision, finally revealing the secret on his right index finger. The small plastic band still glows green from its hiding place in darkness. He smiles as I let out a gasp of awe.
It’s his power ring. It cost him two proofs of purchases and half of his allowance for shipping and handling, but it has finally arrived.