Friday we couldn't produce a comic. That's inaccurate. We could, but we didn't, because we felt we shouldn't, as there were extenuating couldn't's, and since we wouldn't, the world needn't worry about abhorrent killer-zombie mutants to which we were effective deterrents.
That mostly rhymed.
"If I were the size of a mouse so small,
Do you think I would amount to much at all?
Or if I sang with the voice of an ugly toad,
Would I ever be honored in a poet's ode?
If I always grimaced like I ate too many lemons,
Would my friends laugh at me like a band of gibbons?
Or if my laugh sounded like a crude hyena,
Would I be captured and exported to
Because I know.
For the first stanza. The answer to the second is actually no.”
-Arrivederci!
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