This comic is based on a conversation my daughter and I had. The dialogue is transcribed word for word.

It looks like Ben and Winslow must live near me, because I can’t figure out the weather we’ve been having, either. Right now it’s in the high 80s, but the week before it was cold and rainy, and we had insane winds before that, and snow in March, and fireballs in February, and hailstones the size of babies, and then a rain of actual babies after that tornado ripped through the maternity ward. Strange times, indeed.

Winslow doesn’t know if he has knuckles. Frankly, I don’t think he has bones in his hands.

Winslow has a nose in this comic. It’s horrifying.

This is actually way better than what Winslow used to be doing in the laundry room.