Of course Dick didn't buy an iPhone, Tess. He's got his wristwatch. He has no need for an iPhone. (Really, he doesn't. He doesn't need all of those newfangled applications. He knows the city like the back of his hand, and he doesn't need to surf the web, check the ski report, or examine x-rays and scans. If he needs something high-tech, he'll go see Diet or bring TRAZE-R out of retirement.) What he needs right now is a little peace and quiet so that he can continue to perfect his modeling poses. (Dick, I think it's time to move beyond Teapot and The Pointer.) Looks like someone's going to have to call the credit card company, which can only mean that we'll all be treated to an exciting collection of strips featuring Tess and/or Dick navigating a phone tree. (Can you stand the excitement? I'm not sure I can.)
Meanwhile, back at the ranch, B.O. with his slime/Zol hat has just been confronted by one mad Gravel Gertie about some bags she found in the cellar. I'm just wondering where she wants him to keep them, and why she's so mad when it appears that she never even took the time to see what they contained. (Who knows what it could be. Aztec gold? Old receipts? Fabric scraps? Issues of
National Geographic from the 1950s? The mind reels) All of that can wait, though, because in another turn of events, it has been revealed that Jack's name is actually Eyejack, and we can only hope that that's his last name and he actually goes by H. Eyejack (as in, he hijacks your identity...I know, it's a bad joke, but someone had to say it). I think that I prefer just Jack, though, because when I say Eyejack, I am immediately drawn to the black void on the side of his face that might be a shadow, might be a bloody bandage, or might be the place where Eyejack got his eye jacked. (I'll stop now. Seriously.) Looks like he might have something to fall back on after all, but that leaves me wondering this: how did he get a hold of the Tracy's credit card number?
Of course Dick didn't buy an iPhone, Tess. He's got his wristwatch. He has no need for an iPhone. (Really, he doesn't. He doesn't need all of those newfangled applications. He knows the city like the back of his hand, and he doesn't need to surf the web, check the ski report, or examine x-rays and scans. If he needs something high-tech, he'll go see Diet or bring TRAZE-R out of retirement.) What he needs right now is a little peace and quiet so that he can continue to perfect his modeling poses. (Dick, I think it's time to move beyond Teapot and The Pointer.) Looks like someone's going to have to call the credit card company, which can only mean that we'll all be treated to an exciting collection of strips featuring Tess and/or Dick navigating a phone tree. (Can you stand the excitement? I'm not sure I can.)
Meanwhile, back at the ranch, B.O. with his slime/Zol hat has just been confronted by one mad Gravel Gertie about some bags she found in the cellar. I'm just wondering where she wants him to keep them, and why she's so mad when it appears that she never even took the time to see what they contained. (Who knows what it could be. Aztec gold? Old receipts? Fabric scraps? Issues of National Geographic from the 1950s? The mind reels) All of that can wait, though, because in another turn of events, it has been revealed that Jack's name is actually Eyejack, and we can only hope that that's his last name and he actually goes by H. Eyejack (as in, he hijacks your identity...I know, it's a bad joke, but someone had to say it). I think that I prefer just Jack, though, because when I say Eyejack, I am immediately drawn to the black void on the side of his face that might be a shadow, might be a bloody bandage, or might be the place where Eyejack got his eye jacked. (I'll stop now. Seriously.) Looks like he might have something to fall back on after all, but that leaves me wondering this: how did he get a hold of the Tracy's credit card number?
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