BREAKING NEWS

Foxwolf gets involved in some local issues after going to a city council meeting.

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.

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. :)|”