Archive for the ‘Comedy, Comics, Comic Strip, Parody, Satire, Silliness,’ Category

A bear.

“I’m going to turn you into poo.” -What every bear is thinking.

Our summer lake house trip is less than a month away. The planning phase has been easy enough, until it gave way to an inevitable conversation regarding bear attacks.

And while my wife scoffs at the idea of a ravenous, soul-eating, hell bear hunting us in an unknown wilderness. I’ve seen the game tape, and I’m well aware of the insatiable hunger that lurks in the dark hearts of these gore machines. Allow me to present the evidence.

Evidence A: Grizzly Man. Fucking GRIZZLY MAN. It has more monsters in it than a Guillermo Del Toro fever dream. And they walk among us.

Evidence B: The Edge. Only a brilliant serial killer, Norse god, and knighted Englishman (One Sir Anthony Hopkins) could ever hope to escape from such a vile forest demon.

Evidence C: Kung Fu Panda. Proof that they are adept at many styles of hand to paw combat, and that even the panda bear is an inherently violent creature.

Evidence D: Legends of the Fall. The beast shows no respect. Not even for a dreamy, long-haired Pitt. What chance do we have?

Evidence E: Stephen Colbert. The most brilliant newsman of our generation also happens to have enough sense to tremble in terror at the very mention of these human hating hibernators.

Now, with this abundance of information on hand, I’ve decided we must prepare ourselves for the possibility the undeniable reality that we will have to face one of these marrow-lickers in the near future.

Being a proper father and husband, I immediately began to make the necessary preparations. Guns. Lots of guns. For all of us. Especially my five year-old. He’s the smallest and slowest of our tribe, so he would get both the shotgun and the grenade.

My argument for advanced weaponry was simple. We can’t outrun or out climb them.

Best case scenario: Dance off (Improbable)

Worst Case Scenario: Tickle fight (Almost a certainty)

Unfortunately, this initial safety plan was shot down by my wife. No guns.

So, um, my plan is currently in a state of metamorphosis. Like a soon to be freed bear-killing butterfly.

Of course, I will need additional time to research some of the trickier elements in my current plan (crossbows, poisoned honey,  and spiked pits), and in all likelihood, my workload is about to triple (carving spears and digging pits is time consuming). Plus, we might lose our security deposit, but regardless of the obstacles, safety comes first… whatever the cost.




Hello Ladies, Gents, Friends, and Foes,

By now, I’m guessing you’ve noticed that I’ve been on a not-so brief T&N hiatus. And, while some of you could care less, others might want an update on the web-comic, and other unrelated writing news.

Well, first off, thank you for asking (with those hungry eyes of yours). You are indeed a charming and inquisitive, raconteur. I’ve been well, as I hope you have. I’ve also recently scripted a television pilot entitled LIFELINES, which is being produced fairly soon, by some talented friends. As you can guess, I’m beyond excited to be involved in this process. Unfortunately, this is also one of the reasons for the delay of new T&N strips.

That being said, I will be back to scripting our usual brand of silliness in the not-too-distant future. Now, for the fun part, if you happen to be an actor/actress, and would like to audition for said pilot, please take the time to read the flyer below, then comb your hair properly (pomade for the gents), and get in touch with us. Spaces are filling up quickly:


Now that we have that bit of news out of the way, I’m also currently scripting the finale for Huck Finn’s Adventures in Underland. This is the other reason for the delay. Although, to be honest, this web-comic is free, and free doesn’t put the ramen in the cabinet, if you know what I’m saying. So, hopefully you’ll give a click to the link at the bottom of this post and purchase some cheap digital reads from your buddy, Nik.

In a gesture of love and desperation sincerity, I’ve attached a look at a couple of pages from issue #4:

Click me all night long, baby:

Your friend till the end,


Hey Gang!

We know it’s been awhile since a Tooth & Nail strip has come out, mainly due to the fact that we’re hard at work on the next issue of Huck Finn’s Adventures in Underland. Not to worry though, we’ll be back with our ridiculous brand of shenanigans, soon enough!

But for now, you can get your fix with issue #3 of Huck Finn’s Adventures in Underland, which debuted on Comixology yesterday. Among other things, it features a couple of new additions to Huck’s growing gang of adventurers, as well as some evil jerk-heads in need of comeuppance. Sooo, give it a look if you would:

And while we’re at it, here’s a bit of eye candy for your viewing pleasure:


page80Check it! You can purchase issue #1 of Tooth & Nail on the cheap, here:



Minutes after an oil change and another plugging of my driver’s side tire—the second in as many months. Note: My tire has an unhealthy attraction to nails and other pokey street refuse, but that’s another story. I was once again on the road, only to be rear-ended by an erratically driven minivan. By erratic, I mean that this minivan was in equal parts swerving and tailgating me, while I eyed my rearview mirror warily.

As if sensing an audience, the driver brought her vehicular ode to interpretative dance to a mighty crescendo, and smashed into my back bumper.

Stepping out onto the street, I let her know my displeasure with a few choice words and a stern shake of my head. We pulled off onto the side of the road, and our duties as motorists began to unfold accordingly. Only then, did I realize something was off.

This woman, I’ll call her Sad-Crazy-Medusa, for the sake of her privacy and all that, stepped from her minivan. She proceeded to open all of the doors to the vehicle, including the hatchback. She then trotted toward me, her jogging pants hanging on for dear life, her hair attacking the air in all directions, and her otherworldly stare set upon her prey… me.

“Here’s my license and registration, take it.” Sad-Crazy-Medusa blurted out.
“Uh, I don’t need that. The cops are coming, give it to them.” I replied, still a little miffed.

Just then an empty McDonald’s bag, the wind carrying it, skipped down the pavement from the open driver’s side door, and came to a rest at my feet. As if a cork had been pulled, the minivan (which also doubled as a scaled down version of the city dump) began spitting out various fast food wrappers, plastic grocery bags, and enough receipts to bring an accountant to tears. She was of course oblivious to the litter hell that her van was now unleashing. I pointed to the burst littergasm that had just erupted.

“Hey miss, the wind is blowing a bunch of stuff out of your car.” I said.
“Oh, huh.” was her only response.

After an uncomfortable moment, she walked back to her vehicle and sat in her passenger seat. I leaned against my car and breathed a sigh of relief, only to be shocked out of my waking slumber, by her frantic screams.

“Hey! Help me! I just lost my phone and license! Come here, please!”

I thought of jumping into my car, of riding off, the radio blaring Beastie Boy’s Sabotage as I smiled and saluted, leaving this strange moment forever. The scene replayed itself over and over inside my head as I walked toward her van.

“What?” I asked.
“I lost my license and my phone!”
“You just had them. I saw them in your hand.”
“Call my phone! Call my phone!”
“Fine.” I said, giving in to her demands.

She gave me her phone number (surprisingly the first three digits weren’t 6) and I called.
As I listened to the ring of a number I will never call again, she looked up at me angrily and shouted,

“Put your head in here so you can hear it, too!”
“No! Listen for it yourself.” I shot back, trying to contain my growing frustration at being dragged into her crazy place.

Suddenly, she began sniffing the air around her, in an attempt to locate her ringing phone. I thought back to an imaginary article I once read which described ear and nose transplants that had been botched, causing the recipient to hear from their schnoz and smell through their ears. I wondered if there was a lawsuit underway or better yet, if she somehow used this medical mishap to solve mysteries.

“I found it!” She screamed, plucking the phone and license from a pile of papers on the driver’s side seat.

Without saying another word, I walked back to my car and waited for the police officer to arrive. It appeared I was on some sort of hidden camera show. But if so, they had hid those damn things well, and I couldn’t be absolutely certain that this was the case.

I watched from the corner of my eye, as Sad-Crazy-Medusa slowly managed to escape the clutches of her minivan and once again trotted over to me. I pretended to write a text. The jumble of words on my screen spelled Help Me! in a language that only now came into existence. I knew then that I would one day dub this new language iambusydonotinteractwithmeglish.

“Do you like Fringes?!” She spat the words at me as if my answer would determine the outcome of this situation.
“You mean Fringe.”
“I uh, yeah, I guess.”
“They jump eclipses and live in different worlds.”
“I just got out of the hospital for migraines. What day is it?”
“Um, May 30th” I said, the confusion visible on my face.
“Yeah, it’s a great show!” She replied, with a toothy smile.

On and on it went, and I realized that this woman was in a situation beyond my capabilities as a doctor (of pepper). Mercifully, the police cruiser rolled into the parking lot. It’s siren ringing out for a moment, as if to say: The game is over. You don’t have to talk to her any longer, but she has issues and you should feel kind of like an asshole for thinking these rude thoughts about her. Those sirens can say a lot.

Thankfully, at least part, if not all of the sirens message was true. Sad-Crazy-Medusa took to the officer’s uniform and air of authority, like one of her many cats undoubtedly took to catnip and dead-stranger meat. I had finally been freed from her grasp, though I did feel a pang of guilt for the new guy. I watched as she talked in a hushed conspiratorial tone to the officer, who according to his facial expression, began to better understand what he had just strolled into. She then mentioned something about his handcuffs, and he took a step back.

From there, the officer filed his report and she was ticketed for the collision and for having no insurance. She did mention something about having misplaced it. I pictured it being used as a paper bowl for the catnip and the smaller of dead-stranger’s organs. She emphatically crossed her heart and promised to give the card to the officer, at a later date, as I coughed the word court into my hand. He and I exchanged glances, and I knew that Sad-Crazy-Medusa had dealt her final blow.