Actually I still have these brushes. The ones that survived my childhood. In the photo I used to draw my mom she’s carrying a drawing pad, and I’m sure it was mine. I was 5.
P.S. It turns out centipedes die when you paint them with oils.
Aii, why do you write things like this?
That centipede had hopes, dreams, family!
Very funny…and thanks for the tip about painting centipedes, next time I need to get rid of a few I know what to do
Yes, make them pretty and they just die of happiness.
hey, I just discovered your site and it’s awesome! the past week waiting for an update was one of the longest weeks of my live.
aaand painting the bugs is way classier than burning them with a lens.
I thought they’d go home to the other centipedes and be centipede stars!
I’ll work on updating twice a week, just for you. Though I would hate to make your life seem shorter…
I bet they looked fabulous!
that’s okay, I’d rather feel like dying soon in perfect happiness than bad-tempered decades later.
furthermore I could walk around and tell people a talented internet cartoonist works twice as hard to impress me. yiss.
i hope one day i have a daughter as crazy as you were
Centipedes are scary, man. When I was younger, we lived next to an area where there were a multitude of millipedes. They were everywhere. Consequently, by mid-Summer our garage door was streaked with their terrible white insides because somehow they always managed to get stuck there.
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