Wapsi Square Forum

When Wapsi square came on the scene
I still lived in Cali (so green)
yet in two days we found
the twin towers came down
and shattered a life so serene

While the deaths in New York we did mourn
and our people became so forlorn
a new hope did appear
in Monica, the sweet dear
and thus were our spirits reborn

so through trials and fits did she grow
to the short Latin vixen we know
with libido so randy
(and knockers "al Grande")
fourteen years then she put on a show

Yes at first all her world was mundane
the Tepoz appeared (what a pain)
So Monica sent-
to Salt Lake city he went
to the Mormons for booze to ordain

Tepoz returned and caught her by surprise
in her office and crossed up her eyes
so our drunken short miss
gave Kevin a kiss
and started things off in that wise

Now the whole plotline I could here render
of the dealings and feelings so tender
but the limericks' meter
is such a defeater
and treats the whole plot as a blender

So instead of this cursed Irish rhyme
and juggle of words so sublime
I'll say, "THANK YOU PAUL
FOR 14 YEARS OF IT ALL"
.....and simply stop wasting my time...

that's one stanza for every two years

Sgt. Howard wrote:that's one stanza for every two years

"Stanza and deliver!", he cried.

(have you thought of branching out into haiku?)

Well done sir please keep doing what your doing

Let me add my congrats also . 14 more years will make me 75 and 3/4 old. Hopefully I'l still be here.

as363 wrote:Let me add my congrats also . 14 more years will make me 75 and 3/4 old. Hopefully I'l still be here.

Hey, I'll be just about 5 weeks short of that myself.

Mas slainte, Pablo!

May your success continue threefold... in all things!

Dave wrote:

Sgt. Howard wrote:that's one stanza for every two years

"Stanza and deliver!", he cried.

(have you thought of branching out into haiku?)

"Right! Now my fine friends, no false moves please. I want you to hand over all the haiku's you've got!" he demanded.

Thank you Paul, for a great comic and providing a place for loonies to hang out and make silly comments!

Paul did fourteen years
of comic we adore so
others can suck eggs

Hai DomoSan- enough Haiku for you? Gung Hai Fat Choy!!!

Sgt. Howard wrote:Paul did fourteen years
of comic we adore so
others can suck eggs

Hai DomoSan- enough Haiku for you? Gung Hai Fat Choy!!!

Paul gives us Wapsi
Sarge gives us tales to enjoy
Sun smiles on my face

I'm no good with poetry, but I can do this:

Off in a nearly-forgotten pocket of time and space, silence and darkness reigned supreme... Along with the smell of stale, tooth-melting coffee. The meeting hall had not seen a living soul in quite some time. Dust had settled on every surface once again. No lights were on. No sound was made. No air freshener was sprayed.
Until September 9th, 2015.
The silence and the darkness was shattered by a flash and a crackle as energy suddenly arced between four strange devices around a door.
Darkness and silence rushed back to reclaim their domain as the energy winked out of existence just as fast as it had been released.
A long moment passed.
Another flash! This time, the silence was more hesitant. A faint hum held it back for a fraction of a second.
Then, another! Now the darkness hung back; the energy sustained itself for a moment.
Each flash came quicker and remained longer than its predecessor. Soon, the darkness was banished and the silence destroyed as the devices warmed up and the flashes melded together into a continuous, humming, bright light.
The arcs of energy thickened and pulsed, writhing like pythons of plasma until they filled the gap between the devices.

A thunderous roar filled the room, shaking dust from the rafters and a blinding white light seared into every crack and crevice in the hall...
And then it was gone.

Replaced by a calm, low hum and a faint, grey light emanating from a portal. The surface rippled and the image of the world beyond was distorted, as if by a heat haze.
That world appeared to have somehow been drawn with pencil and markers. A three-dimensional drawing.

The image shifted to reveal a bedroom. Duffel bags, backpacks, a foot locker, and a small suitcase were littered through the room, stuffed full of all manner of items. A young man, dressed in dark jeans, a red tshirt, and a black hoodie, stood within, a small red backpack with a steel pipe slung across his back, a knife at his hip, and a satisfied smirk on his lips.

Glytch entered the hall, drew himself up, and made the mistake of sucking in a deep breath. It took him a few long moments to hack the dust and acrid coffee fumes from his lungs. "Shoulda thought about that..." He rasped. Once he had caught his breath and tied a bandanna around his face, Glytch strode forward to the main table, twisting an arm around to fish a few envelopes from his backpack.
One had "Pablo" written on it. The other was labeled "Wapsiholics." The third was a little thicker, bearing the label of "Monica Villareal and associates" along with the address for a museum.
Glytch set the first two down on the table gently before turning toward the portal controls. He quickened his pace, and his fingers were shaking a little when he got to the screen. He typed the password and navigated through the interface until the drawn world reappeared. A few more taps, and a large building, the entrance of which was flanked by two stone lions, materialized in the portal.
"Let's hope whoever picks this up is kind enough to find Monica..." Glytch muttered as he stood and walked to the portal. He stared into it, mentally debating whether he should just deliver the letter himself. His body leaned toward the portal as if he was about to take the step a few times... But he eventually sighed and shook his head. "I can't risk it... This letter is already a risk... A whole person could wreak havoc... Especially me."
And with that, he tossed the envelope through the portal.
As it crossed the threshold, the edges of the envelope gradually changed into lines of graphite and ink. Glytch watched as the transformation finished before turning back to the control panel.
He swiftly navigated through the options and a strange map of spheres until the bedroom reappeared. The young man turned and took one last look at the decrepit old meeting hall, remembering the events that had transpired the last time he was here with a small smile beneath the bandanna. "Maybe there will be another meeting during the holidays..." He whispered hopefully.
Glytch swept his eyes across the room once more before closing them and backing into the portal.

Back in his room, Glytch opened his eyes. it had worked... The Meeting Hall, having been brought into existence by the will of hundreds of imaginative readers, was still sensitive to their wants and desires... A single mind, making a concentrated effort, could activate the Portal remotely and enter from their universe.
"Happy 14th, Wapsi," Glytch whispered.

The old Sgt. noticed a flicker on the old board that looked like a control consul prop from the original "Lost in Space". Paying attention, he recognized the activation code for the meeting hall... it had been dormant since his unsuccessful attempt to re-write history regarding the 'Red Devils' at Arnhem. Study of the lights indicated someone was there, someone who had been there before. Activating the remote camera, he waited for the ancient vacuum-tube technology to produce a grainy, black and white image on a screen mounted in a 1960s oak cabinet. Looking at the screen, he recognized the young man who was hesitantly leaning towards the exit image and finally shaking his head.
"Still doesn't trust it," he thought to himself as he watched Glytch throw an envelope onto the stairs of the museum. Back at the table were two letters sitting in the thick dust. Looking at the coffee pot, Greg realized it was 'on'. He turned his attention to the portal door at the end of the hall and threw a massive guillotine switch to activate it. As the portal came online, he looked back at the screen- Glytch was gone and the lights were going out. Back at the consul he threw three single-pole switches and checked the screen. Lights were back on. Greg zipped up a jumpsuit and walked through the portal.
Once back in the meeting hall, Greg strode over to the pot and unplugged it.
"Thank....you..." it whispered.
"Sure thing," he replied as he went back to his den.
Once again, the lights went out

What does M tell others who ask what's hanging from her balloon? "Taking my hamster for a walk."

how come the shrinking spell ain't worn off yet?

Ohnhai wrote:how come the shrinking spell ain't worn off yet?

Rule of Funny?

Ohnhai wrote:how come the shrinking spell ain't worn off yet?

It may not be the sort of spell which will simply "wear off". In traditional folk tales, spells and enchantments often do not fade of their own accord. A lot of them have to be actively broken or reversed (and the quest to find someone/something to break a spell is the basis of more than a few stories).

And, as with mundane matters, some spells have effects which cannot be un-done at all, or where the effect of breaking them does more damage than it's worth. Ever try to un-shrink a wool sweater that was washed in hot water, or un-hardboil an egg?

Even if Cricket never figures out how to reverse the effect of her magical outburst of anxiety, all is not lost. Monica could just start telling people that she'd made a big venture-capital investment in a small bioengineering company that isn't quite ready to go public with their technology to produce breeds of midget pets... "Small Friends For Small Apartments"... and was asked to foster one of their prototypes.

arf

Wapsi Square's anniversary got a mention on Fleen today.

As Fleen was how I ended up discovering Wapsi Square in the first place (when he mentioned the apparent death of Shelly in the Time Forest, and the associated wigging-out-of-the-fans in the Comments section) this gives me a warm, cheery glow.

Dave wrote:Wapsi Square's anniversary got a mention on Fleen today.

As Fleen was how I ended up discovering Wapsi Square in the first place (when he mentioned the apparent death of Shelly in the Time Forest, and the associated wigging-out-of-the-fans in the Comments section) this gives me a warm, cheery glow.

Paul Taylor has been cranking out Wapsi Square for fourteen — count ’em, fourteen! — years now. The initial slice-of-life story pretty quickly turned to the mildly supernatural, then evolved a full-blown mythology and world-threatening danger tied to the 2012 Mayan Apocalypse that got resolved a good two years before deadline.

The strip went back to life-slicing but Taylor couldn’t stay away from the weird and he’s introduced a new generation of characters — not humans interacting with a supernatural world, but teen paranormal creatures. That’s about five shifts in focus in fourteen years, and no sign of where it leads next. Happy strippaversary, Wapsi Square.

And we aren't done wigg'n out yet...

Dave wrote:

Sgt. Howard wrote:that's one stanza for every two years

"Stanza and deliver!", he cried.

(have you thought of branching out into haiku?)

He's still working on figuring out the meter of a proper limerick.

Warrl wrote: He's still working on figuring out the meter of a proper limerick.

'Proper'?!? 'Limerick'?!? it is generally considered inappropriate to have both words in the same sentance....