MIZRIZ O’PAYNE’S VERY PERFECT PEKIPOO (2010) (PARAPHILIA X, 2010)
Artwork: “Mizriz O’Payne’s Very Perfect Pekipoo” (panel excerpt, as featured in PARAPHILIA X, Díre McCain & D.M. Mitchell) 2010, Rick Grimes.
GRIMES: “I’ve been told by a few people, independently of each other, that some of my stories wormed their way into them and proved later to be memorable or effective. I hope this is one of those. So, I will say next to nothing here about it by way of any explanation. It is what it is, and tho’ deceptively simple, it comes from a raw place I don’t pretend to completely comprehend, yet, myself.
I would like to make the point that I do get the minor folly of ever saying in my captions [panel one] or whatnot that anything depicted by me is supposed to be beautiful or dazzling. In the sorry name of playground politics still burned into me as a kid, nothing I am or do should ever be said to be beautiful!
But, the Great Life Surround can Shineth Bright-eth-eth even while horrible things are happening simultaneously, don’t ask me why.
And I defy anyone to draw the sky. Not storm clouds, but the sky. Not paint it. Draw it.
Note: (Look up, any of you fellow sheeple who wonder ‘why the weather man keeps getting it wrong’–‘chem trails’ are fucking real. The government doesn’t care about us. Surprise! Our ‘fair city’ has been living under them off (rarely) and on (often) for fifteen years now, and if you think suicide is not a tandem topic, you don’t know what missing the sun is like. So, I thought that as good a way as any to indicate a sky above, and presume the pekipoo lives amongst ’em someplace in his world, too. The poor boob. Consider yourself lucky if you don’t).
Also, for those unfamiliar with screen doors, or those who are ever, (staggeringly) incapable of seeing what I think I’ve made obvious despite my amateurish(?) rendering: the door hook is NOT yet in the hooked position. This is actually very crucial to the story and how it’s overall moods and points can be taken, so i hope it’s clear.
The dog may or may not try to get in. He may or may not cause the door to hook itself (which sometimes happens), and so, even if willing or able to save the woman’s life in time, may (or may not) be prevented by ‘chance’ or ‘fate’ or whatever other shibboleth or gremlin or divine whim is active that day or second.
So, I’m not advocating suicide here. Quite the opposite. People should at least consider where their ‘little caprices’ might wind up taking them and what’s going to be left of their chances to turn things back around before too late. And what foolish things they may become dependent upon, especially for last minute rescue, should they really execute their depressed desires, but have second thoughts.
There’s a bit of leftover sense memory fueling the tale, spontaneous emotional recall from the years taking care of my mother, up to her death. But, the woman is not my mother, who was not suicidal. And, I am not simply the dog as some caricature of the caregiver.
The prissy pupperoo in this story may not even have the sense to open the door at all, let alone try it twice or thrice, or do what’s needed if he does get in the house. Tho he is ever so ‘Perfect’, so we are optimistic.
Here endeth the ‘lack of’ explanation.” — RG (December 16, 2010) ~+1/20 ‘015