General Protection Fault: GPF Comics Archive

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[Interpretations: Guest Artist Week]

[Comic for Friday, November 8, 2002]

Today's strip is from Shoot Me Now writer, artist, and permanent straight-jacket denizen James Kerr. Filled with inept freelance mad scientists and vodka-swilling pot-bellied pigs, this strip brings new definition to the word "twisted." A recent addition to the Plan Nine family, Shoot Me Now is coming out with it's first book collection, Hot Monkey Love, in the not-to-distant future. Make sure to swing by James' site and acquaint yourself with its... unique charms.


{{Guest strip care of James Kerr of Shoot Me Now fame.}}

[[Fooker is sitting at his computer, wearing an "American Pi" T-shirt, drinking Red Bull, with Fred looking on.]]
Fooker: Heheheh. Just finished up a 14-hour IRC flame war with a certain Dr. Dieter Sigmar from MIT's Nuclear Research Department. What a dweeb!
Fred: Take it to the hoop, Fooker!

[[Fooker and Fred walking amongst a collage of Klingon pictures.]]
Fooker: It all started when that dink Sigmar was claiming that the Klingon Civil War was by far the coolest thing in the Star Trek cannon and I politely reminded him of the Battle of the Wolf...
Fred: Those MIT jerks!

[[Fooker shooting a strategic glance at the "audience," while walking amongst Borg pictures.]]
Fooker: His lame rebuttal was that the Battle of the Wolf had very few lasting impacts besides the whole "Hugh" incident. So I publicly questioned the size of his genitals and reminded him of the whole "First Contact" movie, which was a direct result of the Battle of the Wolf...

[[Shot of Fooker imagining a Klingon & a Borg with a cool "electric" background.]]
Fooker: Then he blathered on about how the Klingon Civil War was a dramatic showcase of an entire culture and how it showed how much of a Bad@$$ Worf was. While I concurred with this in theory, I told him you can't even begin to compare an event that nearly destroyed the Federation, not to mention Earth, to a campaign that was essentially just the Duras Sisters trying to claim unfounded power...

[[Fooker walks around the apartment, while Fred looks out the window.]]
Fooker: And it's so obvious that the whole "Son of Duras" thing was just pandering to the masses at best. And after about 14 hours of this, my fingers started to hurt so I told him that the doctors over at Berkley call him "Pixie-butt" behind his back and logged out.
Fred: Hey, some guys in radiation suits just dropped something off at the front door...

[[Fooker opened the box addressed to him to find a large device, packed in packing peanuts, with radiation symbols all over it, and a clock-mechanism. Fooker reads the note that came with it...]]
Fooker (reading): You have 15 minutes to decipher the code locking the deactivation panel before you turn into a radioactive hole in the ground. Love, Pixie-butt...
Fred: You're on your own, man... I'm spending the night in the composting heap...

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