Melacholy Evil Poptart
I do not own rights to the term Poptart. Nor do I have permission from all of the original creators of TKO the comic book passed around in middle school that loosely inspired this creation.
The Evil pop-tart had once been the evil villain of TKO. Now he finds his former enemies are grown and could care less about him. He struggles to find meaning as he stumbles drunkenly through life.
I saw a lot of fancy nice designer clothes. I saw a million well put together outfits. I saw yuppies and yacht owners. I saw homeless and stinky. I saw tourists walking around with wide eyes and cameras at the ready. I saw families. I saw couples of every possible sort. I saw a million dogs many of them small and so damn cute. Apparently one of the custard shops on High Street was giving out free plain custard with a dog bone to any dog for free this day. I saw furies. I saw a bunch of full on dog costume people with masks, tails and collars. There were actually a lot of them. I saw people and children wearing fairy wings. I saw Drag Queens in beautiful gowns. I saw organizations which had all their people wearing the same color shirt. Some slogan was printed across I’m sure it said who they were and what they did but I never saw close enough to know what that was. There were at least three different shirts out there a dozen or so being within each pack. I saw a large group of girls dressed as airline stewardesses. I believe they were handing out flyers for something maybe? I saw a group of five skate boarders all ride down the street. In unison they kicked off down the road at full speed basically keeping up with the cars who were trapped in the busy High Street stop and go. And all along the sidewalk you could find tables selling local art, handcrafted jewelry, printed T-shirts, organic goods and more. Many corners featured fantastic musicians playing for money and dressed in their own cool ass style. When I was off I was off. YHA was set to play at 10:30 at Kafe Kerouac which is on High Street. I walked as fast as I could. I dodged and bobbed in-between the sea of human beings. I squeezed through and I excused. I hurried and scurried. I ran across green light roads. All the while I ignored the pain in my legs and feet.Read More
And there was Neil Gaiman the ineffably cool best selling author who I'd been reading since I was a teenager. Someone who's work I really respect and admire. He was going through the stack of books fairly quickly people were just sort of breezing past him and I thought to myself; you have to say something to him. Don't just breeze by say something. And so he came to my books and I opened my mouth a out spilled words like I'd been choking on water. I spoke very quickly I told him I really love all his work and comic books and everything and I'd been reading his stuff for a really long time and I think he's just great. I said it in one massive slur that he probably did not even understand. Then something surprising happened. He stopped what he was doing and looked up at me. His hand stopped moving mid signature and he seemed to be genuinely noticing my existence. I handed him my Melancholy Evil Poptart and I told him; "This is a stupid webcomic I did and at least I can say I gave it to you." He looked at it and said "Now what is this?" He asked me a question and I had to explain. I told him it started as a comic book in middle school me and my friends passed around and now this is about us all grown up and him trying to find meaning in life. I warned him that it was really depressing. He looked at the cover and said "I'll read this... Melancholy Evil Poptart" He seemed to find humor in the title. He shook my hand. He fucking shook my hand and I felt far more acknowledgement than I'd ever expected from going to this event.Read More