By: Mike Peterson
[2003-05-06]
Betrayal
the subdeacon's tale
Yes. I am the subdeacon, but why should I be the one to do this? I have no wish to die, but here I am at the will of my superiors and soon I will be ribboned. For it is I that will be the bait. I will be the Trojan Scratching Post that will finally end the reign of terror. This fear which has gripped the populace of western Iowa.
I will be the end, the end of Knifekitten.
I look at the device which we are sure will bring Knifekitten to me. A giant can opener has been constructed. It has been mounted atop an enormous can of beer, like those you might see at the county fair, if those cans were metal instead of really just a large balloon. There is a long rope wound around the crank of the can opener, and hanging at the bottom of the rope is a large feather pillow. The whole thing is simple. Knifekitten is known to find soft bedding irresistible, for no other reason than his inability to enjoy it. The can opener is an educated guess on our part. We hope that the sound of a can opening will draw him that much quicker. Beneath the pillow is a giant pole which I must knock over to begin the process.
I stare at it. It stares back.
As the pole starts to move in response to my pushing I wonder if what I am doing is wise. Just at the moment that I reconsider the pole nevertheless snaps out from under the pillow, starting the contraption at the urgings of Murphy and his (her?) damnable law. My brain slows time as I ponder the effect of what I am about to do to a friend of many years.
I remember the six-hour layover that I had in Houston when I first met Knifekitten. The horrified crowd had shoved me into the wall and it was only after the last fleeing citizen had passed me that I opened my eyes and first ended up chatting with my abominable companion. I remember the time when, after having been drenched in water by a devious villain Knifekitten came to me, in his hour of need, to spray him with WD-40. We talked all night as we worked together to ensure that he didn't rust. What a shame. After all that work he still ended up with that one little spot just behind his left knee....
My thoughts turn to the meeting that I was called into only two days ago. Knifekitten's superior and the executive board were talking about how to stop my dear buddy. Knifekitten was, to them, a brutal menace, and one which I had been selected to stop. Despite my arguments I was now here on the Catholic Building, waiting for the friend I was to betray.
Looking over the edge of the building for what again seems like the thousandth time I see Knifekitten. With that sixth sense that every cat possesses, razor-sharp he detects me watching him. He looks up. I duck back but have been spotted. Knifekitten easily rockets himself up here to the roof, slicing through the air.
Now I may see my beloved victim.
He knows that I am nervous. He can smell it. His gaze cuts into me and I stand paralyzed with fear. Suddenly he realizes what I've done and am about to do. I panic. Can he jump away before I can trigger the explosives rigged throughout the roof of the building? Maybe. Fully aware of what is to happen, he instead sits, his feline rump causing deep gouges mere inches from a rooftop brick which is actually hiding one of the numerous blocks of C-4. He stares.
I am being dared, I know it. He doesn't think that I'll do it.
What will it look like to see the roof erupt in geysers of explosions and rock? It's time to find out. I hope that Knifekitten will leap free, but I don't know how. That's never stopped him before. After all, it is his propensity for living that encouraged his boss to deliver enough explosives to plant one under every brick on his side of the roof. Knifekitten, my friend, my love, please run. I am pushing the button now.
No, I mean it.
Run. Here I go.
What is the deal with knifekitten? This theme just doesn't do it for me and I find myself at a loss when I try to understand the series' popularity.
I think this is the last Knifekitten for a week or two. It comes in flurries.
The hype helps. It's reading all the different accounts of Knifekitten's adventures and yet with each one not being a whole story.....or its a story with an amibiguous ending, or an ending that is made to be followed by a sequel that is never written, instead the next edition is a new plot again.
All the accounts are the cliched yet effective plot devices that are used in nearly every action movie at some point, but here they are without the rest of the story; there is no detailed plot, simply the twists and turns that a plot would have.
That was half assed at best, and I was stating the obvious....but for anyone new to the scene of Knifekitten, that was a meager explanation.
Don't post less knifekitten on my account, I like all of them. I found a "Spoondog" and thought to develop a "Sporkduck." I think that the pitfall to guard against is degenerating into silliness. Also, the certain vague and detachedness of the segments has a certain mystery. I like the feeling that I missed a chapter, and that I am waiting for the next one.
If the urge were to strike you, I would not object to Knife Kitten replacing Zirealism *Zing!*
That's pretty tight. It sounds kind of like one of those demented Gothic poems about a psycho member of the clergy that gets bored with tradition and does things his own way. Do you write poetry, by chance?
losing Zirealism would kill you.
(because I would find you and kill you)
btw, HB, Oscccar's interpretation was by no means definitive. He never mentioned Magritte, for example...
It's only a matter of time before the great Antwan makes a comic that blows Zirealism out of the water.
will we meet this great Antwan?
On thingsihate, there would be no replacing zirealism, just another comic on another day, its not like the submissions flow like fine wine from the breasts of the Godess Aphrodite or anything.
Unless some unfortuanate incident were to befall posthumous...
I'm just messing around. Me and posthumumous go way back to our college days when we would punch out hookers and snort cocaine off their chests.
that everyone else seems to have so much more fun at college than me? Maybe I'm just not getting into the hooker-punching spirit enough.
Check the name, dude. I've seen it all. Or do you not know latin?
After ... a cancerous growth?
After his Mediterranean dip.
I hope that it was better than the jalapeo guacamole garbonzo bean dip.
After having spent the last long time trying to read all of the archives (and still not being done) I felt that I should contribute. I missed all of the Petey contests and felt that a Knifekitten submission would be a good way to go. I'll admit that my inspirations came heavily from some old discussion on the topic and a severe lack of sleep.
And no, I don't write poetry. I don't like poetry, actually. Alas, I do have a few (less than 5, and I think only 3) poems that I've ever written saved on my computers (don't tell anyone) and it's highly unlikely that any such things would be revealed here. I do, however, enjoy both the reading and writing of a goodly variety of prose. Mayhaps in the future I'll submit one. Meanwhile, I'm thinking that I'm more likely to either get my butt in gear and start drawing the comic strip I've written more frequently or to write more Knifekitten. I admit that Biscuit's appreciation of the topic is inspiring.
I think that the lure of Knifekitten comes in many forms. None of the stories (that I've found, at least) actually come from Knifekitten's point of view. We never know what Kk thinks, only what others think about him. We do know that Kk is pained by his state, however. He is aware of his effect on the environment around him and has an Edward Scissorhands-ness about him.
Also, we never have to experience plot segments that we don't want to. I read most Kk stories and nearly curse the author for stopping. That actually leads us to the next point. Kk is about the anticipation. We never really find out how Kk gets out of the situations he's in, or even if he does. The stories have a lack of chronological order to them, permitting a fluid and dynamic history that simultaneously defines itself and all other occurences.
All in all, this shows that Kk is a flawed, pained person (so to speak) that elicits real emotions from those around him and us, too, if we can look past the fact that it's completely disjointed and nonsequential. Personally, I love the sharp lug. He's nearly as great as Petey.
Ever since I submitted an article to Thingsihate, my yahoo e-mail addy seems to over-flow with spam mail. My imagination or conspiracy in the works???
Also, posthumous has no face. He wears a mask and despises all those born with faces. One day (after writing yet another infant zirealism) he snapped and began robbing people of the precious gift of a face.
One time a Greek guy told me that Mr. NoFace is what they call the Greek Mafia. But you should be glad that Posthumous doesn't do what I do when distraught, which is to revert to primate behavior and fart, belch, hoot, beat my chest and throw feces; an unpleasant display, indeed!
Perhaps your next comic could have something to do with the comment above this one? *hint hint* That way, at least I'd get at least one of them. Nothing is more easily understood than poop flinging.
I already made the hummus joke, you obtuse anonymous fool. Although while reading the Unicycle Guy's thesis on Knifekitten I was struck with what would turn out to be similar thoughts to your own regarding the secrets of posthumous, i.e., now that MtUG has penetrated the mysterious appeal of Knifekitten we will all soon go mad and rip out our vocal cords etc.
I know what posthumous means!
Posthumous inspired me. In a bit I'll have some posthumous-esqe work. Anyony interested in seeing them, e-mail me at po6ou@hotmail.com
I am thinking about Louis Wain's famous cat picture, the one that was on Oingo Boingo's first EP. I would link this, but I'm sure it's pretty easy to Google. I should find a smallish version and put it on-site.
But who will know?
What the hell have you kids been up to while I was gone?
