September 20, 2011
Dear Reader:
Page 26 of Goatwater, already? Wow! You will find a transcript of this page at the end of this letter. I will begin gradually adding transcripts to all the pages. Next Tuesday, I post page 27. Make sure you Zoom in to see the lettering and/or read the transcript, below. If you are new to Goatwater, take your time with it. I recommend reading one page a day until you get caught up. If you aren't new to Goatwater, thanks for coming back and please keep coming back for more. And remember, if you don't dream any other day of the week, dream with me on Tuesdays.
You can now link to the Table of Contents on every page. Click here to start at the beginning of this webcomic. Have a great week and remember that Goatwater is updated every Tuesday. Email any questions or comments to bassacards(at) yahoo.com.
If this is your first time visiting this site, or you are a regular reader, email me at the address above if you want me to add you to my mailing list so that I can send you an email reminder, every Tuesday, when I’ve added the new page. No spam, and I will not share your email with anybody else, just the link to the new page and some update information, if I have any. And feel free to let me know, at any time, if you want to stop receiving the weekly emails. Thank you for your support!
PAGE 26 - TRANSCRIPT
Missus:
From the moment I arrived in this world, and my secret eyes opened up inside my inner ear, I’ve heard and even seen, the sound of Pallbearers, those awful sorrow-soldiers, marching, carrying everything I ever loved in a gaudy painted box. “Cargo-Cargo” was the only clear word I ever heard them say. They always marched to music, a sad, sad symphony accompanied by their incessant, melodramatic sighing. In 1492, when I opened up the Hotel La Fete at exactly Half Past Iniquity, the Revelers, as was customary, began to rise from their beds to cover their faces with masks. But on that day, I looked out my bedroom window and saw, yes, saw, the Pallbearers for the first time. There were four of them, marching, bearing a filthy blue casket. “Excuse me!” I called down to them. “Excuse me, but who is in that box?” They stopped marching and gently laid the casket down. Without looking up at me, one of them took out a sharp knife, mumbled a prayer than carved a pathetic looking cross into the cover of the box. Another one took the knife and changed the cross into an ankh. The two started pushing each other. One got on top of the other and held the knife to his neck. The other two stood there laughing without sound sharing a bowl of greasy looking johnny cakes and a cup of sorrel. I looked away for a moment, confused by what I saw. When I looked back again they were gone.
Pallbearer, have mercy. If you must carry me, carry me in a casket with my head attached to my body or toss my head back into the sea so that I may kiss up a starfish.
Headmaster:
I’ve waited my whole life for a head like that, sir, and I know much better than you just what to do with it. Listen to this head-song:
I’ve got a home for her head
And it’s raht besahd me in mah little bed.
I want to know of all the thoughts she entertains
Her sins, triumphs, desires and her pains
They say the heart is in the body but it’s in the mind
I’d rather know what she’s thinking
than caress her breasts or brown behind
I’d like to softly unravel all those hard, hard braids
Let loose all the dirty, secret thoughts she has enslaved.
For instance, I wonder, just if and how her mind can forget
The sweet and filthy history of Hotel La Fete
I’ve got a proper home for her head
And it’s raht besahd me in mah little bed.
Horny:
Maman, I've got something for you! God forgive me.
Planet:
Your voice is sexy, Papi, now get me the hell outta here.
Dear Reader:
Page 26 of Goatwater, already? Wow! You will find a transcript of this page at the end of this letter. I will begin gradually adding transcripts to all the pages. Next Tuesday, I post page 27. Make sure you Zoom in to see the lettering and/or read the transcript, below. If you are new to Goatwater, take your time with it. I recommend reading one page a day until you get caught up. If you aren't new to Goatwater, thanks for coming back and please keep coming back for more. And remember, if you don't dream any other day of the week, dream with me on Tuesdays.
You can now link to the Table of Contents on every page. Click here to start at the beginning of this webcomic. Have a great week and remember that Goatwater is updated every Tuesday. Email any questions or comments to bassacards(at) yahoo.com.
If this is your first time visiting this site, or you are a regular reader, email me at the address above if you want me to add you to my mailing list so that I can send you an email reminder, every Tuesday, when I’ve added the new page. No spam, and I will not share your email with anybody else, just the link to the new page and some update information, if I have any. And feel free to let me know, at any time, if you want to stop receiving the weekly emails. Thank you for your support!
PAGE 26 - TRANSCRIPT
Missus:
From the moment I arrived in this world, and my secret eyes opened up inside my inner ear, I’ve heard and even seen, the sound of Pallbearers, those awful sorrow-soldiers, marching, carrying everything I ever loved in a gaudy painted box. “Cargo-Cargo” was the only clear word I ever heard them say. They always marched to music, a sad, sad symphony accompanied by their incessant, melodramatic sighing. In 1492, when I opened up the Hotel La Fete at exactly Half Past Iniquity, the Revelers, as was customary, began to rise from their beds to cover their faces with masks. But on that day, I looked out my bedroom window and saw, yes, saw, the Pallbearers for the first time. There were four of them, marching, bearing a filthy blue casket. “Excuse me!” I called down to them. “Excuse me, but who is in that box?” They stopped marching and gently laid the casket down. Without looking up at me, one of them took out a sharp knife, mumbled a prayer than carved a pathetic looking cross into the cover of the box. Another one took the knife and changed the cross into an ankh. The two started pushing each other. One got on top of the other and held the knife to his neck. The other two stood there laughing without sound sharing a bowl of greasy looking johnny cakes and a cup of sorrel. I looked away for a moment, confused by what I saw. When I looked back again they were gone.
Pallbearer, have mercy. If you must carry me, carry me in a casket with my head attached to my body or toss my head back into the sea so that I may kiss up a starfish.
Headmaster:
I’ve waited my whole life for a head like that, sir, and I know much better than you just what to do with it. Listen to this head-song:
I’ve got a home for her head
And it’s raht besahd me in mah little bed.
I want to know of all the thoughts she entertains
Her sins, triumphs, desires and her pains
They say the heart is in the body but it’s in the mind
I’d rather know what she’s thinking
than caress her breasts or brown behind
I’d like to softly unravel all those hard, hard braids
Let loose all the dirty, secret thoughts she has enslaved.
For instance, I wonder, just if and how her mind can forget
The sweet and filthy history of Hotel La Fete
I’ve got a proper home for her head
And it’s raht besahd me in mah little bed.
Horny:
Maman, I've got something for you! God forgive me.
Planet:
Your voice is sexy, Papi, now get me the hell outta here.
Goatwater
Copyright 2011
words and images by:
Tiffany Osedra Miller
all rights reserved.
Copyright 2011
words and images by:
Tiffany Osedra Miller
all rights reserved.
