In Garden Warriors, Foxwolf makes some informational graphics about beneficial insects and garden pests. She may be slightly biased. Indie web comic about garden friends versus garden foes.
GARDEN WARRIORS
BILLBOARDS
![BILLBOARDS - PAINTED DOGGIE COMIC Panel 1: Foxwolf sits in the driver’s seat holding the steering wheel as the highway rolls by into the distance behind her. [Caption] “On my way home from work, I have to drive by two consecutive billboards that make me want to swerve into oncoming traffic.” Panel 2: Foxwolf’s view through the driver’s side window is of a billboard rising up above the blur of foliage beyond the highway barrier. The billboard says at the top, “SUPPORT YOUR LOCAL POLICE,” and at the bottom, “THANK A COP.” The image on the billboard is centered around the point of the gun being aimed at drivers by a uniformed police officer. [Caption] “One is an ad for the police, paid for by the police - or in other words, paid for by our tax dollars.” Panel 3: Foxwolf narrows her eyes at the sign as she passes by and sticks out her tongue. [Caption] “This one reminds me of propaganda posters you might see in a Western stereotype of North Korea. There are many copies of it up and down the highway.” Panel 4: The road stretches out to the horizon. The cloudy sky is broken up by various signs along the borders of the highway. The police billboard passes out of view as the next approaches. On the opposite side of the road, an exit sign is partially visible. [Caption] “The next is one for some hydraulics company. This one makes me the most angry.” Panel 5: The approaching billboard comes into focus above the trees. On it is the image of a white dog with black ears wearing a fur trimmed robe, raising a crown and scepter high in the air. The dog is riding atop a stack of fluttering paper currency being pulled by three struggling and faceless workers. Above the workers, the text reads “NO BODY CARES WORK HARDER” The company website, “SOMEFUCKINGHYDRAULICSCOMPANY.COM” is posted across the bottom of the billboard. [Caption] “I don’t even understand what they think this says about their company, besides that they do not care about the well-being of their workers. Are there people who would be swayed to make a purchase based on how little a brand can care for its employees?” Panel 6: Foxwolf grips the steering wheel so hard that it begins to shatter, sending little chips of plastic flying. [Caption] “This is an ad promoting working at all costs, as if that’s a virtue. It says not acknowledging one’s own health or quality of life is good, actually. It makes me think of a medieval rack stretching me out into an infinity of hyper capitalism.”](https://i0.wp.com/painteddoggie.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/08/billboards-scaled.jpg?resize=1674%2C2560&ssl=1)
Panel 1:
Foxwolf sits in the driver’s seat holding the steering wheel as the highway rolls by into the distance behind her.
Caption:
“On my way home from work, I have to drive by two consecutive billboards that make me want to swerve into oncoming traffic.”
Panel 2:
Foxwolf’s view through the driver’s side window is of a billboard rising up above the blur of foliage beyond the highway barrier. The billboard says at the top, “SUPPORT YOUR LOCAL POLICE,” and at the bottom, “THANK A COP.” The image on the billboard is centered around the point of the gun being aimed at drivers by a uniformed police officer.
Caption:
“One is an ad for the police, paid for by the police – or in other words, paid for by our tax dollars.”
Panel 3:
Foxwolf narrows her eyes at the sign as she passes by and sticks out her tongue.
Caption:
“This one reminds me of propaganda posters you might see in a Western stereotype of North Korea. There are many copies of it up and down the highway.”
Panel 4:
The road stretches out to the horizon. The cloudy sky is broken up by various signs along the borders of the highway. The police billboard passes out of view as the next approaches. On the opposite side of the road, an exit sign is partially visible.
Caption:
“The next is one for some hydraulics company. This one makes me the most angry.”
Panel 5:
The approaching billboard comes into focus above the trees. On it is the image of a white dog with black ears wearing a fur trimmed robe, raising a crown and scepter high in the air. The dog is riding atop a stack of fluttering paper currency being pulled by three struggling and faceless workers. Above the workers, the text reads “NO BODY CARES WORK HARDER” The company website, “SOMEFUCKINGHYDRAULICSCOMPANY.COM” is posted across the bottom of the billboard.
Caption:
“I don’t even understand what they think this says about their company, besides that they do not care about the well-being of their workers. Are there people who would be swayed to make a purchase based on how little a brand can care for its employees?”
Panel 6:
Foxwolf grips the steering wheel so hard that it begins to shatter, sending little chips of plastic flying.
Caption:
“This is an ad promoting working at all costs, as if that’s a virtue. It says not acknowledging one’s own health or quality of life is good, actually. It makes me think of a medieval rack stretching me out into an infinity of hyper capitalism.”
ADULT EMOTIONS
In “Adult Emotions,” Foxwolf’s brain is a chaotic control center managed by various emotions, until a bloated cat, claiming “TUMMY HURT,” crashes the party. Health Anxiety storms in, frantically Googling symptoms until Financial Insecurity smashes through with a battering ram, declaring, “You can’t afford to be sick!” Foxwolf, meanwhile, concludes, “I’m probably fine.”
BREAKING NEWS
BREAKING NEWS – PAINTED DOGGIE COMIC
Panel 1: Foxwolf is sitting in front of a computer monitor displaying a webpage with a “BREAKING NEWS” alert banner over story titled, “Everything’s Fucked.” The body of the story below is partially obscured by Foxwolf’s head, but reads,
“Shit. Fuck, fuck, fuck. What are we going to do? No one is going to do anything? What do you mean? The problems are so obvious. We even have, like, a b- (cut off)
of greata ideas we could try?? But none of those make some assho- (cut off)
we’re not going to do any of it? And I have to just keep going t- (cut off)
collapses… I can’t believe the rest of the world has universa- (cut off)
is the best it’s going to be for the rest of our lives. Oh God, (cut off)
this hell world when I’m too old and broken to work as (cut off)
going to end up penniless and sick on the streets where I’ll have (cut off)”
Foxwolf scowls at the screen and says,
“That’s it. I can’t stand sitting around helplessly anymore. They say the best way to make change is to provide help where needed in your local community. I should go to the next City Council meeting and get a pulse on some issues.”
Panel 2:
Caption: Foxwolf listens to “Festival Song” by Jeff Rosenstock as she walks to City Hall.”
Foxwolf walks down the street towards City Hall with her hands in her pocket and ear buds dangling from her ears. The sidewalk is cracked and split with weeds. A large – and oddly menacing – thorn bush is climbing over the edge of the sidewalk and up the side of an abandoned storefront behind Foxwolf. The building has several broken panels of glass and is painted with obscene graffiti of a swastika, penis, and the word “FuK”. At the corner of the street is a crooked sign for “BYRD AVE.”
Panel 3: The City Council meeting has already begun as Foxwolf slips into the back row of folding chairs, drawing an irksome look from an older gentleman in the front row. The citizen attendance is sparse. Center stage between two heavily armed police officers, the members of City Council sit in front of microphones as the Councilman in the middle addresses the crowd:
“And the motion passes to increase the police budget to aid enforcement of the property maintenance ordinance.
Lawns must be kept mown to 5” max at all times. Don’t expect anymore leniency or warnings prior to being fined, people.
Next we will hear public comment.
Barbara? Please come to the podium.
You will have two minutes to speak to the Council.”
Panel 4: An elderly woman in a turtleneck wearing glasses stands at the citizen podium and speaks, pleadingly:
“Thank you, Councilman Peebus. As you know, I have repeatedly asked the city to address the condition of the city-owned lot near my home. It’s infested with bio-engineered, man-eating shrubs the City purchased during the Capital Chemicals Fire and Bankruptcy Sale Incident. These things grab at my grandkids, and we can’t leave our house without running for our lives to the car. So again, I’m here begging you to please send someone out to kill these things.”
Panel 5: Councilman Peebus responds angrily, and the other councilmen glare.
“Barbara, we have been through this. The City does not have the funds necessary to address your trivial personal matters. Maybe if you chose to live in a nicer part of town, you wouldn’t have to deal with this. You don’t see Ms. Capital in here every month, do you? No – because she’s at the Philanthropist Singles’ Mixer I’m currently MISSING to be here listening to your negative attitude.”
Panel 6: Barbara is weeping at the podium as two police officers who have moved in behind her glare into the back of her head. The officers’ bulletproof vests say VIOLENT prominently on a patch. Barbara attempts a response:
“But my grandchil-”
She is quickly cut off by Councilman Peebus saying,
“Your two minutes are up, Barbara. Please take your seat.”
Panel 7: Crying and covering her face, Barbara turns away from the podium to return to her seat. The police officers follow several steps behind her, nightsticks in hand. Councilman Peebus continues,
“Well folks, Barbara once again ate up all the time allotted for public comment. So we must move on to our final and a hotly contested issue – which officer will get to drive the newly purchased military surplus tank first?? Now you boys can draw straws or arm wrestle, but keep it fair. I know you’re excited, but everyone will get a turn eventually.”
Panel 8: The meeting is over and the audience empties into the street. Stars appear in the sky behind an ancient decaying billboard for cigars as the sun sets. The elderly man who scowled at Foxwolf’s tardiness to the meeting stands at the street corner waiting to cross. Behind him, the strange thorn bush looks extra threatening, and somehow, hungry? Foxwolf walks up the street away from City Hall. Noticing something over her shoulder, she looks shocked. Barbara is being handed a document by one of the police officers. The officer says,
“Barbara, wait. I have something for you. This citation is in regards to your unsightly lawn. Your grass is currently 7” tall and in violation of the property maintenance ordinance. I’ll be by in the morning to ensure you’re in compliance. Additional fines will be issued for further failure to comply.”
Barbara frowns.
Panel 9:
Caption: Foxwolf listens to “USA” by Jeff Rosenstock walking home.
A silhouette of the city street beneath a crescent moon. Foxwolf has her ear buds in again. She looks dejected as she continues her walk home. Back on the street corner, the older gentleman seems to have vanished. There is rustling in the unruly thorn bush and a pair of legs kicking out from it. Foxwolf doesn’t notice the commotion over the music in her ears.
Panel 10:
Caption: The police blast “Crazy Bitch” by Buckcherry from the tank at a deafening volume.
The sun has fully set as Foxwolf makes it home, but a blinding light illuminates the street. Foxwolf squints up in disgust to see the new police tank barreling down her street on its maiden voyage. White trash fuckboy music booms from the machine.
Panel 11:
Foxwolf looks angry and determined as she stomps through the front door. The music from the tank spills in from outside.
Panel 12:
Back at the computer, Foxwolf is filling out fields in a “Create Your Campaign” form on “gofundthee.”
Campaign Title:
“Barbara Needs A Rocket Launcher”
Goal:
“$4,000,000.00”
Describe Your Campaign:
“I’m trying to get more involved in my local community, and I’ve identified a need:
A rocket launcher. For Barbara. I think a lot of things would change for the better in my city if Barbara had a rocket launcher or something cool from the next military surplus auction.
Please share this campaign even if you can’t donate. :)|”
APP STORES ARE LAWLESS WASTELANDS
Panel 1: Jerri approaches their mother, Foxwolf, who is slumping limply on the couch wearing a hoodie that says “DEPRESSION.” Smiling down at their tablet, Jerri asks, “Hey Mom, can I show you something?” “Sure,” Foxwolf replies, without moving her unfocused gaze from the middle distance.
Panel 2: Jerri is grinning ear to ear looking at the screen. “Look what eevee is saying.”
Panel 3: Foxwolf takes the tablet and looks down at the screen while Jerri leans over the arm of the couch so they can also see. The background on Jerri’s tablet is a cute but weird, bug-eyed animal with a middle finger on its head. Jerri’s home screen apps include Roblox, YouTube, Spotify, Skype, and Among Us. There’s also a screen overlay app running. It’s the pokemon, Eevee, walking around and leaving little paw prints on the screen. A speech bubble coming from eevee reads, “SUCCESSFUL BEGINNINGS DEMAND STEADY RESOURCES.”
Panel 4: Eevee continues to walk around the border of the screen saying various horribly translated inspirational quotes: “LOVE THRIVES IN ADVERSITY. WHISPER SECRETS TO CLOUDS.” “TAKE RISKS; SECOND MOVE DICTATES GROWTH PACE.” “THE PREMATURE BIRD CAPTURES THE WORM, BUT A FLOCK IN THE SKY IS INVALUABLE.”
Panel 5: Suddenly eevee vanishes and a tombstone appears at the bottom of the screen. The epitaph says, “EEVEE IS DEAD.” A single flower is blooming in front of the grave. “THANK YOU! PLEASE RATE AND REVIEW,” reads a speech bubble coming from the grave.
Panel 6: Foxwolf looks up from the screen at Jerri. Beaming, Jerri looks at their mother and says, “This is definitely stealing all my data.”
FOXWOLF’S GAMEPLAY STYLE
Panel 1: In +3 stealth boosting armor, Foxwolf is crouching behind a big boulder assessing the camp of monsters inches beyond the rock. Two monsters sit near a fire, unaware of her presence, even though the item storage pouch on her back is bursting at the seams and protruding above the boulder. The HUD shows Foxwolf is at max health.
Panel 2: One of the pathetically weak monsters sits blissfully unaware as Foxwolf changes into bulky, attack-boosting armor directly behind him. The monster’s actually pretty cute and has a nice round tumtum.
Panel 3: Foxwolf’s horned battle armor casts a long shadow over the unsuspecting creature as she rises, weapon drawn, behind him. THWACK! She KO’s the little one. She sneaks behind the remaining monster – who hasn’t noticed a single thing that’s occurred 20 feet to his right – brandishing a vicious spiked bat.
Panel 4: Both of the monsters lay lifeless where they sat, having never stood a chance against the unnecessarily boosted sneak attacks. Foxwolf eyes some crates at the camp near one of the bodies.
Panel 5: Foxwolf opens and peers into one of the crates. Inside the huge crate is a single, glistening apple.
Panel 6: After opening the massive item storage pack, Foxwolf stands to the side throwing the apple to the top of the bursting bag. An updated item count displays, “APPLES: 734.”
Options for President
Panel 1: President Triden is sitting at a table with two oil executives. They are surrounded by guards wearing badges, sunglasses, and a patch that reads, “VIOLENT.” On the table there are two reports. The report on the left is titled, “MORE BIKE LANES = MORE CHINESE SPYS.” On the right there is a report titled, “BIODIVERSITY: LEADING CAUSE OF CHILD TRAFFICKING? – A study by The American Petroleum Oligarch.” Triden says, “Well sounds like you boys got it all figured out on this one. I’ll get this signed, and you make sure to invite that pretty granddaughter of yours to the next fundraising dinner… Anyhoo, I truly appreciate your generous donation to the campaign this year.” One of the oil executives is pushing a document towards Triden’s pen. It’s an executive order that says “ALL PUBLIC SCHOOLS TO BE LEASED FOR DRILLING.”
Panel 2: Bump is sitting in a golf cart resting one arm on a stack of documents stamped, “CLASSIFIED.” The oil execs who were meeting with Triden are standing in golf attire leaning on their clubs on the course next to the golf cart. In the distance, the guards are playing a round beyond some palm trees in front of the massive club house. Bump says to the oil execs, “I can definitely tell the freaks solar panels are a ploy by “big DEI” to make their kids want to be in gay furry polycules with the sun god, Ra. No Problem… Of course, the bigger your donation to the campaign, the more decrepit towns I can visit to spread awareness of this horrible attack on our great nation. Hey when’s the next time your hot granddaughter is planning to stop by the club?”
Panel 3: Bump is standing at a podium that has a campaign sign for BUMP 2024 which reads, “MAKE PHRENOLOGY SCIENCE AGAIN.” He says into the microphone, “And that’s why I’m going to dim the sun. I’m telling you folks, solar’s no good. And Triden, you know, he loves solar. Just like your kids who went “no contact.” They all love the sun. But when I’m president again, no more sun.” Behind bump are rally attenders holding signs. Some of the slogans from the signs read, “THE MOON IS FAKE,” “I’M SCARED,” “I HATE WOMEN,” and “WILL U B MEIN KAMPF?” The young oil executive and a young woman who looks like the older oil executive are standing in the crowd behind Bump holding a sign that says, “GOD BLESS OIL.”
Panel 4: Triden is giving a speech in a federal building to a crowd of elderly people in suits. In the front row, the elderly oil executive is seated next to his granddaughter – the same girl who attended the Bump rally with the young exec. She is looking down at her phone and blowing a bubble with her gum. Triden speaks at the podium: “And with my new program, “Drill, Babies, Drill,” children as young as third grade will learn real oil rig job skills while boosting the economy. Bump will say, ‘Triden’s weak on energy independence,’ but I don’t see him calling to drill at all public schools. You know, I was talking to my good friend, Sigmund Freud, yesterday, and he asked me, ‘President Bump, how are we going to save America?’ And I said, ‘Mr. Clinton, when I’m president, I’m going to make sure Israel’s schools have the tools they need to arm each and every American child with a Ford F-150. Even the pretty little girls.’ And he said, ‘Triden, I think you should go lay down,’ and I said, ‘I’ll lay down after we win, Jack.’”
Panel 5: Foxwolf, glancing down, stands in her kitchen. She has a peaceful, yet defeated look on her face and says, “And in November, we’ll be electing one of these two men to be our president.”
Panel 6: Young Jerri stares up at her in stunned silence, grimacing tearfully in pain at the bleak options Foxwolf has laid out for the forthcoming election. Foxwolf continues, “Did you have any more questions, honey?”
Cereal For Dinner
Panel 1: The television is broadcasting a news interview with “RICH BASTARDSON – PRISON LABOR PROFITEER.” A graphic on the screen says, “CEREAL FOR DINNER?” Rich is standing outside his palatial home in front of a decorative corporate mascot fountain. In the distance, there are a group of men working the property. A deputy on horseback watches the workers. Rich says, “Listen, poor people can eat shit for all I care. As long as it’s sold by my company, put that shit in your stupid little cart, or whatever you people do, and eat up. You’re welcome.” The news ticker at the top of the screen reads, “STOCKS SKYROCKET AFTER REUSABLE PRODUCTS OUTLAWED FEDERALLY – HOMELESS TO BE EUTHANIZED.”
Panel 2: The broadcast transitions to the interviewer, “REED PORTER – SENIOR OVERLORD PLATFORMER,” who is in the newsroom. A line graph behind him titled, “LINE REPORT – IT GO UP, BUT HOW MORE?” shows an uptrending line. Reed responds, “Rich, I don’t know if you should say that. The poors are really going to hate it. You want to try again?” The news ticker continues across the top: “11-YEAR OLD WHO PUT WHOOPEE CUSHION IN D. A. R. E. OFFICER’S SEAT TO BE PROSECUTED”
Panel 3: The screen cuts back to Rich, whose title card now says, “‘EAT SHIT, POORS.’ – GRAINS AGAINST GROIN GRINDING CEO.” Behind him in the driveway, a delivery truck has arrived. Workers are unloading a large statue of another corporate mascot. Rich yells at them, “Hey BE CAREFUL WITH THAT! Fucking Troglodytes,” and then responds to Reed’s question: “No, Reed, I don’t care. We’re already running the ads.” The news ticker reads, “STATE OFFICIALS ‘RELIEVED’ – GOLF COURSE SPARED IN TRAIN DERAILMENT, 357 DEAD – WAR ON (cut off)”
Panel 4: Houndmage and Foxwolf are sitting on the couch in front of the TV watching the broadcast. Houndmage says, “This guy is really out here just dropping some Marie-Antoinette-ass shit on all our asses. Wow.” Foxwolf responds, “Yeah, history repeats itself.”
Panels 5 & 6: Houndmage and Foxwolf both think, “Hmm… History… repeats itself…” and envision the historical painting of Marie Antionette’s execution with Rich Bastardson’s head on the pike being paraded around the stage. All of the executioners and bystanders cheer and celebrate.
Late
Panel 1: It’s the middle of the night. Foxwolf groggily wakes and sits up in bed next to Houndmage, sleeping soundly. It’s dark in the bedroom, with only a sliver of dim light peeking through the curtains from the streetlights outside.
Panel 2: Light from the bathroom shines through the open door into the dark house. Foxwolf is sitting on the toilet peeing with the door open, barely awake.
Panel 3: Foxwolf washes her hands and looks at herself in the bathroom mirror. Her eyelids are heavy. “Mmm… I should write that down,” she thinks.
Panel 4: Back in the dark bedroom, Foxwolf has fallen asleep with a pen in her hand. Her arm is resting on the nightstand where she has scribbled something down.
Panel 5: It’s morning and the room is light. Foxwolf is in the same position as she fell asleep in. She awakes and picks up the note she left for herself, squinting at it with sleep in her eyes.
Panel 6: Foxwolf rolls over onto her back and holds the paper above her. On it is a drawing of a muscular woman dancing. The drawing trails off the page in a sharp, straight line, presumably caused by the artist’s loss of consciousness. The note reads, “Christina ABuilera.” AB is underlined and capitalized. Foxwolf frowns and stares into the middle distance.
Dylan?
Panel 1: “Mew?” Dylan sits looking up to the light shining down the basement stairs.
Panel 2: Charles, hearing Dylan’s mew, has immediately started sharpening a battle axe on a grinding wheel beneath Foxwolf’s desk. Sparks fly from the wheel.
Panel 3: Strapped with the axe and wearing a tiny horned helmet, Charles dashes through the house.
Panel 4: Dylan’s ascending the stairs.
Panel 5: He’s made it to the top. Around the corner, Charles is crouched in attack position. Her pupils are huge. Dylan smiles as he walks towards the corner.
Panel 6: Leaping from around the corner to high above the top step, wielding the battle axe overhead, Charles screeches, “RRREEEAAAOOOWWW.” Dylan flies back down the stairs crying in terror.