Every day millions of faithful Falling Rock readers write in to ask me, “why aren’t you syndicated?” Sadly, Welcome to Falling Rock National Park remains one of countless comic strips orphaned on the internet. Why do the syndicates turn their backs while this poor cartoonist toils away as an anonymous day laborer? And how do I respond to my fans, many of whom read Falling Rock in their college paper and are forced to leave it behind after graduation?
My answers vary, but the real reason is absurdly simple: I have enemies.
Powerful enemies, enemies who will stop at nothing to ensure Falling Rock remains merely a cult sensation and not the mainstream powerhouse it ought to be. Enemies like these:
Were I to play Death at a game of Chess, he would inevitably take away not only my comic strip, but also my everlasting soul. Death is inevitable, but I fight him off every day in order to bring you four panels of funny talking owls.
The Phoenix Mars lander found evidence that ice exists on Mars. The next step is to send an army of robots to destroy the Red Army currently gearing up for an Earth invasion. These green-blooded ne’er do wells will attack the cartoonists first.
He says that he cares about me but I have my doubts. We were not able to fight to the death when we were growing up together (Mom wouldn’t allow it), but a reckoning is coming. I can feel it.
There you have it. Before Falling Rock can achieve the success it was clearly destined to have, I must first defeat this rogue’s gallery of swarthy arch-nemeses.
Wish me luck, dear readers.