This Parker inkwell came to me over Christmas by way of Butch and Beng.
It’s an inkwell of stories.
She screamed, “I’ll get to the bottom of this even if it kills me!” She did. It did.
The painter promised the devil his soul for the perfect brush. Unfortunately, he forgot to ask for paint.
“Sorry dude, no one’s buying a graphic novel pitch about The Perforator.”
It was at moments like this the truck driver knew, absolutely knew, that he was wrong not to have made the pee stop at the gas station 5 miles earlier.
He dreaded sweeping up after the dragon every night. But he dreaded his neighbors even more.