Touch me. Touch me like you didn't touch me last night.

First, somebody just gave me an anonymous year of LiveJournal, which is pretty fucking awesome.

Thank you, Mystery Person. You're The Bee's Balls.

Also, it's been a VERY LONG TIME since I asked you to Fuck With My Art, so here, have this.

I was taking a moment from my latest Sir Reginald story because I couldn't get three words out of my head. You know, when you're writing and something else gets in your head and you need to ditch it so you can continue? I didn't know what to do with them, so here you go.

Finish the story, or draw something related to it, or take a photo of something that looks like a thing that the story reminded you of that one time.

You know. Whatever.

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“Cheeseburgers for Jesus?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Cheeseburgers for Jesus.”

“I…was that a question?

“It was the first time, yeah. The second time it was a statement.”

                It’s precisely for reasons like this that I hate going Christmas shopping. You’re doing something relatively innocuous, like trying to get all of the motion-activated barking dogs to go off at the same time by jumping in front of them, then some guy who smells like gin and mustard is talking to you about cheeseburgers and Jesus.

                “So…did you want me to give cheeseburgers, um, to Jesus? Or for Jesus? Was that some sort of commentary on…I dunno, pop culture or something? Oh, pop culture and religion and consumerism, yes? I’m right, say I’m right!”

                “It’s just cheeseburgers for Jesus, man. It is what it is.”

                I looked over at a little boy who was looking at Gin and Mustard Man. I mouthed the word “run” at him but he just started laughing. I mean, REALLY laughing, like I’d just put a trout in my pants or something. Gin and Mustard Man turned at stared at the kid, who immediately started crying and ran off in search for his parents.

                “Now. Cheeseburgers for Jesus.”

                “Look, you crazy bastard, these dogs aren’t going to bark on their own, and I gotta see if somebody’s hidden one of those Judge Death figures. I found a transparent one behind the Fantastic Four movie toys, but…hey! Dude! Not fucking cool!”

???