Posts Tagged ‘ andrew kaye ’

Clean as a Newborn Baby

Sep 20th, 2013 | By

My wife is a NICU nurse, meaning that even without witnessing the births of my children, I would be elbows-deep in neonatal vocabulary. Case in point: from where I’m sitting RIGHT THIS SECOND, a bookshelf filled with medical textbooks threatens to collapse on me.



Money and Mayhem!

Sep 13th, 2013 | By

It has become an unofficial Friday the 13th tradition to mangle Winslow in some way. This started last year when we had THREE Friday the 13ths running wild and unsupervised through our calendar, and coincided with the creation of Dr. Spiderqueen. This year we just have the one, giving Winslow plenty of recovery time until his next brush with death.



Salad Shooters

Sep 6th, 2013 | By

Aspara Gus, the walking, talking, disturbingly human-looking and distinctly male salad, was never meant to live more than a week. This is probably for the best. Without constant watering and/or refrigeration, Gus was doomed to wither and die like the vegetables my wife accidentally stores in that one drawer in the refrigerator that doesn’t quite work like the vegetable crisper it was advertised to be. So I suppose this fate is better. More humane. Or whatever. Not really.



One for the Ladies

Aug 30th, 2013 | By

When we last left our intrepid scientist, Winslow was about to load some delicious vegetables into his biological transmogrification device and create a beautiful woman. As you can clearly see, something has gone terribly, terribly wrong. Or terribly right, depending on your circumstances. As the title says, this one’s for you, ladies. :P



Let’s Make a Woman!

Aug 23rd, 2013 | By

Greetings! I hope you’ve all been enjoying the latest issue of Defenestration. Now it’s time for another thrilling episode of Ben & Winslow! When we left Winslow, he had died after seeing Apsara in a little black dress. But he’s a cartoon character, so he’s back from the dead and ready to move on with his life. Or rather, he’s ready to move on with his love life, which is mercifully nonexistant.