Free Stuff!


Everyone likes free stuff, unless it’s a free STD. Well, this certainly isn’t a free STD.

You can get the ebook, The Life and Times of Car Johnson, for free. It’s like reading this blog, but wilder, sort of like injecting yourself with pure insane fun.

So, go to https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/79657 and enter the code SSWIN to get your free copy.

And since this post needs something more, here’s some pictures of stick people:

Donny Dead – A Cautionary Tale for Children Everywhere


I’ve decided to write and illustrate a small children’s book about the dangers kids might face in the world. It’s called:

Donny Dead – A Cautionary Tale for Children Everywhere

 

This is Donny Dead.

This is Donny Dead bleeding into the ocean while being surrounded by sharks.

This is Donny Dead playing with a guillotine.

This is Donny Dead sticking his head in a blender.

This is Donny Dead being eaten alive by fire ants.

The End.

Strange Dream


I had the strangest dream last night.

First, I met a snail.

He said he was a magical snail, but I didn’t believe him. He looked more like a freaky dude with a balloon for a head. “Come to me Car,” he said, as if knowing my name would make me trust a talking snail. So, I told him to shove it and left him slowly trying to catch up to me.

Then I met a woman. Well, I met a woman’s head. That hung in the sky and had hair that grew into mountains and a freaky snake boy.

I couldn’t tell if she was supposed to be a representation of my mother or just all the spicy chicken wings I had last night, but I didn’t want to find out, especially not with the freaky eye floating next to her. She didn’t even say anything. She just floated there with her crazy hair and smiled serenely.

Well, I thought this dream couldn’t get any weirder, but then I met… well, whatever it was.

 

Creepy faces made by a bird puking out a string and one of the faces puking out what made the bird. I mean, my dreams don’t always make sense, but these were strange, even for me. The faces started singing about the stuffed bear I had when I was five and the bird asked me for a smoke. Well, I answered by waking the hell up.

So that ends the retelling of my freaking dream. Maybe next time it’ll have killer robots.