*The underbrush baring your way into the website falls easily to the mighty swings of your trusty machete. The jungle that has clogged your path is dense and ominious, and soon darkness falls upon you. You press on, for reasons known perhaps only to yourself, and soon find an ill-kept clearing open up before you. In the centre sits, hunched and tired, the Webmaster. He looks up at you with sunken eyes and, gesturing in your direction with shaking hands, bids you approach. He coughs a gurgling cough and speaks.* A visitor! Oh, it has been so very long. Please, come closer, my poor useless eyes are long burned away by the harsh radiation of the monitors.

Please forgive the mess. Things have been a tad... oh, how to describe it... well, *useless* around here, I suppose. Yeah, I guess that about sums it up. Without use. Wholly without merit. I blame it all on lazyness, myself. People around here are more then a little starved of the Drive aspect, I can say that for certain! Darned ragamuffins!

Obviously, of course, that undependable Artist rapscallion has been, true to form, undependable. Not surprising... that one did always shy away from anything resembling *work* or *effort*. The Author is just plain incompetent, but that much has long been obvious. Building up any feelings of animosity towards that one is like kicking a three-legged puppy.

The Engineer hasn't been traveling much, but though his time has thus largely been his own, you can't exactly say he's been consequential in the grand scheme of things as a result. He's still paying the bills, at least. And he has acquired motorized transportation, which I suppose some people find to be a milestone of some sort. I personally think he's just wasting money in the service of facilitating lazyness, myself. But then again *I* don't exactly get out much.

Meh, to sum it all up. But enough with the interminable whining. *The webmaster ruffles his shirt angrily, dislodging a thick layer of swirling dust in the process. He reaches down past the computer, emerging with a heavy, suitably heftable hunk of wood. He pats it against his palm for effect.* Don't know if it'll help get something worthwhile going on 'round these parts, but it couldn't hurt. Me.

Off to do some violence. Have a good one. *The webmaster ducks into the shadows, his passing marked only by the rustling of the jungle around him.*

- Paladinian

*Your return to the website is hampered somewhat by having to clear a path through the thick cobwebs that bar the passage for any less mighty then yourself. A stray spider finds itself tossed around in the commotion, and glares at you with irritation from a dozen tiny eyes, but otherwise leaves you unmolested. Looking downright spectral, you silently emerge from the internet, covered in webs, and startle the webmaster.* AHHHH!

*The webmaster clutches his heart and stares at you wide-eyed, panting. He soon regains his composure (if not quite his dignity) and hastily runs a comb through his disheveled hair. He gives a meek wave of greeting.* Um... hi. *He grins unconvincingly.* Um... good to see you. It's been... um... darned near two months, I suppose.

Sorry?

Anyway... since you are here, and all that, perhaps you wish entertainment? Refreshments? Well, there is little enough of the first and until I perfect a way to have your CD Drive dispense ice, none of the other. I really have no excuses on this front.

What have I been up to, you ask? *He squints at you warningly, knowing full well you didn't make such a query, but the madness in his eyes hints that you had best play along for a little while, at least.* Well... a Nintendo Wii found itself somehow appearing in the apartment. Due to... well... it being bought and paid for and brought home. So perhaps not so mysterious a conflux of events, that. And... well... let it be said that Twilight Princess is a darned worthy game. A worthy game indeed.

It bears most hearty and enthusiastic mentioning that I am now an Uncle-unit! As far as a personal accomplishment, it isn't... really I contributed absolutely nothing to this circumstance at all... but still, awesome, eh? congrats to the Brother and Sister-In-Law Units!

I have also, if not finished, at least initally completed the friend's commission. I hope he enjoys it. Haven't heard back regarding the proof, but hopefully it didn't cause his eyes to explode from disgust. (You would be surprised how frequently that seems to occur!) *The webmaster looks up at the webcomic hanging from the top of his page. He looks back at you apologetically.* Um.. okay, maybe you aren't so surprised. On the plus side, it would appear that that teletype application of yours is working great!

Oh, and I suppose something of relevance on the topic is the following letter that just crossed my desk from yonder travelling engineer. *The webmaster pulls out a small pair of reading glasses, rests them on his nose, then realizes he is already wearing full sized spectacles so the "scholarly" effect isn't really being successfully pulled off. He sighs and puts the accessory away and passes you the crumpled-up note.*

And, well, that is that. His life is certainly an adventure.

His rambling does remind me of certain contemplations of my own, I'll confess. *He sees you slowly backing away in an effort to escape, but trusts that the spider webs will entangle you long enough that he'll be able to finish before you manage to get away.*

Was talking to the parents last weekend or so, and they relayed a story that I believe I did hear before, but didn't really *hear* until that time. They relayed, basically, that early in school I really didn't do too well. So, come Grade 2, at Parent-Teacher's conference, they ask how I'm doing. The teacher says "very well". Having been getting Cs and Bs, they understandably ask what that means... certainly I could be doing better? The teacher responds with "well, those grades are very well for *Luke*". Aka: Luke is slow.

The parents, bless them, didn't particularly like me being judged as such and set it upon themselves to see that I wasn't. I would like to think they were successfull here.

But this is actually what threw me for a bit of a loop... after the relevation, I didn't actually like to think that! I, as might be readily apparent, think of myself in rather self-important terms as a "gentleman and a scholar". I had this grand illusion of *always* being a reasonably bookishly intelligent individual. Dumb, yes, but not *stupid*. To learn that this was not, in fact, always the case, and that under different circumstances I'd likely be dragging my knuckles on the floor, is a distressing thought. Not just because it inspires worries that, in fact, my whole current existence is simply that of a stupid person *pretending* to be smart. That I'm all just a dull, rather uninteresting show.

Well, the uninteresting part fits. But lets not dwell on that. I console myself by reflecting on my own personal philosophy that pretending to be something you aren't is the surest way to walk the path towards *becoming* that ideal. I want to be smart. Even if I'm really, really not, it is more noble, I think, to try, at least, then simply accept it. But can one lose the path by forgetting where one really ends and the illusion begins?

Mostly, the retrospection about what "might have been" has been hooking me, much as that particularly large and hungry-looking spider has managed to web your ankles together. I look back at the past and wonder. If that whole stupid juvenile snow-ball event hadn't happened back in yonder Ile Des Chenes childhood, or I had adequately apologized for it, would I have kept in touch with Joelle? If I hadn't been as restless and obnoxious at the efforts to teach me piano at that self same youthfullness, would I perhaps have some musical skills right now?

I know one isn't supposed to dwell on lost opportunities... but mercy, there is suddenly so many I see, looking back! How many things I want to do now but can't find the time, but was too dumb to grasp when it was there for the taking, and I had nothing better to do!

*Sigh*. But whatch' ya goin' ta do. Well, besides try and escape the rapidly converging spiders. Actually, yeah, let me help you with that. *The webmaster grabs a handy vacuum cleaner, plugs it in, turns it on, and wreaks a tempest armageddon upon the cobwebs and spiders that ensnare you. You, no doubt, flee when able to do so. He calls after you as you escape back into the intertron.* You're welcome, eh?

- Paladinian

*Your return to the website is greeted by the simple sight of the webmaster tapping away at the keyboard. From the corner of his eye, he sees you approach, and gestures you forward.* Oh, hello again. Looks like we've got some correspondance from the engineer. *He points at his monitor for emphasis.* He, unlike that no-good artist lazabout, has been working for a living. He sends correspondance from his travels, which should be just about up, me thinks.

*The webmaster turns his monitor to give you a better look. You see, written in the emotionless script of the computron, an electronically mailed missive. You, perhaps, choose to read it.*

*The webmaster sees that you have finished the letter and thus turns his monitor to once more face himself.* Sounds like he's doing well, eh?

Me? Well, you see, I've had a very busy time of things... *The webmaster sees that you are avoiding making eye contact, and sizing up the nearest point of escape.* Oh. Yeah, I guess one rambling is enough for one day. I understand. I... don't really have anything to say anyway. So go on... on with you. See you later sometime.

*The webmaster turns his back to you and returns to whatever odd work he finds himself occupied with. Behind you, in the distance somewhere, you hear a door open, and a dusty, well-travelled goateed man walks in the door, an unrealistically large T-Square borne on a single shoulder, and a laptop case over the other. He creeps past the webmaster, who pays him no mind. You lose sight of him as he passes through a hallway. A soft rumbling sound is heard, as if a heavy burden were finally dropped to the ground, and then nothing... until a scamp madly clutching a waccom tablet, wearing a pretentious beret on his head comes bounding down the hall where the engineer had just turned a short time ago! Oh, what mischief could that loopy character be up to? What antics he plans for this time remains a mystery, as he, cackling madly all the while, turns a corner and leaves no more trace of his presence... save for his unhinged ramblings that echo undiminshed through the concrete halls.*

*The webmaster groans, and grabs his head as if he anticipates a head-ache coming on.*

- Paladinian

*You arrive at the website to find the webmaster looking sternly at the author. The author is gesturing at a half-finished document in his hand, but the webmaster appears to be having none of it. He points into the distance firmly. The author slumps his shoulders, grabs his luggage, and slouches into the shadows, looking back but once with a pitiable expression on his face.*

Oh, don't give me that. On with 'ya, you silly git. *The webmaster turns to find you observing him. He shrugs. Hey, don't look at me like that. The slacker knew he only had a couple days to finish his next page before he had to go back onto the airplane. He did not use his timely *wisely*, though, and so like the no-goodnik that he is, he came here wondering whether the rather shoddy half-finished thing he spawned would be adequate.

Considering the state of what he considers *done*, I shudder to think what he would have inflicted upon us all by putting up an "in-progress" version. *The webmaster shudders illustratively.* So I sent the rapscallion on his way. That'll learn him!

No doubt, when he gets back he'll finish up that latest page of his, and find some way to show it to you poor souls. He's... sneaky... that way. But for the moment... rejoice! You have been granted a reprieve!

So go! Go! Go read a *real* webcomic! If you need some suggestions, Order of the Stick is always good! Erfworld, found on the same site, is one I grow increasingly fond of!

The troublemaker who haunts this locale is banished for... well... I don't know, truth be told. He'll be gone for as long as he needs to be, I suppose.

"Oooh... how very mysterious!" you might think! But no, strike fantastical imaginings of Lukey adventure and excitement from your mind. There is no "saving the world from horrors no one must know about" going on. Likewise, alien fugitives from an alternate galaxy have not, to my knowledge, enlisted him for some epic space opera adventure.

No, rather, he is just going to work, only instead of going to work here, he's going to work... over in the yonder distance somewhere.

Exciting stuff. *cough* Such is his life. Pulse-pounding excitement, it's not.

Anyway, enough about that. I hope your June has started most agreeably.

Let it be known that Shrek 3 and The-Pirate-Johnny-Depp-Show-3 were both, in my opinion, disappointing. I shalt not bother to review them for others have done so most adequately, and anything I say is unlikely to sway your opinion. But my disappointment exists, and is now registered for posterity.

I suppose that means my work is done, here.

*The webmaster throws down a smoke bomb to cover his escape. He quickly realizes that due to the fact that smoke does not actually pass through network lines you are still able to see him perfectly well. He sighs, coughing slightly from the smoke, and walks off-stage with as much tattered dignity as he can muster.

- Paladinian

*The author, looking dusty and travel-worn, emerges from the shadows, unobserved by the webmaster. He scurries up to the top of the site, and pastes a new offense upon good sense over his previous one.*

*His work done, he skulks back into the shadows, likely to resume what mysterious travels he finds himself caught up in.*

*The webmaster feels your gaze upon his back, sighs, and turns around.* Do I even have to look? The freak's gone and done it again, hasn't he?

No, I won't even bother looking this time. I value my eyesight and all. Can't imagine what garbage he's presented to you poor souls this time. *Shakes head* At least you all got an extra week's reprieve... that traveling I told you about? Well, had him away for a good *two* weeks, not one. What can I say? A darned unreliable character, that.

*The webmaster notices a note stuck to his elbow. He picks it off and reads it.* Hmm... 'Say what you will about me, at least *I* didn't leave an HTML tag unclosed, leaving the whole site pretty much unreadable in Internet Explorer!'

*The webmaster shakes his fist at the shadows.* You aren't even the one who noticed that! *The webmaster looks back at you.* Sorry about that. Just a little on edge, I suppose.

It should be noted, though, that if any of you are using Internet Explorer rather then, say, Firefox... what is wrong with you people?

Anyway, nice guy that I am, I've gone ahead and fixed the tag. IE can now view this site sanely. What can I say... I'm no craftsman, but even *I* have my pride.

Well... um... what else. That scamp, you may be happy to know, is not done his traveling *quite* yet! So, no comic for a while, once again! Hmm... oh yeah, and my bike got another flat yesterday! (Interest to you: Minimal!) And you know what that means?

I shall concern myself with air filled tires no longer! The bike is out, and it will NOT be welcome back home until it shapes up and gets some new-fangled solid foam/rubber tire-like implements of transportation.

It shall be... oh, what do the kids say these days... 'pimp', I suppose. I gather that this is supposed to be a... good thing?

- Paladinian

*The author looks around a bit, sneakily.*

*The author sees the Paladinian's back is turned. The author chuckles and pulls a new page out of his jacket and pastes it to the top of the website.*

"Yoink!"

*The Paladinian turns around in surprise. The author scampers off while laughing idiotically.* Hey! Hey you, get back here! You rotten kids, get off my lawn!

*Looks up. Sees the comic. Sighs.* Well, looks like the goal of having another page ready within a week was met. Go ahead, have a look at the thing, I suppose. That'll just encourage him, I suspect, but eh, I ain't the boss of you.

*Looks up again, shakes head.* At least I know that rapscallion will be too busy working for a living next week to pull another of these stunts. Small mercy to the rest of us, I suppose.

*Turns back to his work momentarily, before looking back at you and shrugging.* What more do you want? I got nothin'. On your way with ya'!

- Paladinian