Status: written, requires illustrations

MOTHER is a proposed graphic novel requiring illustrations. I see it as a mix of styles: comic strip, novel, full-page graphic alternation between pop and porn and horror-gore. Some chapters may stand alone as written word. Others may be in complete comic strip form. And others will be a mix of anything and everything in between, it’s final form to be molded by author and illustrator(s) together.


Mother has decided enough is enough. The cleansing is to begin. And no one is to be spared. To be sure, she is making a statement by starting from right at the top: with the President.

Our main character wanders across a regenerating yet increasingly human-less world in search of Molly, Molly Melbourne, his one and only true love. Yet the further he goes, the further he is pushed, the more he finds his path increasingly guided towards Mother’s true intentions.

Chapter 1 – Oh, Mr. President…!

How it started is by the President shooting himself at a press conference.

“My fellow citizens, the time for inaction has passed. The time for action…”

It was there he paused. And the audience, the country, maybe the world, they waited for him to continue, like so many leaders past and present had done, using the words,

“The time for action is now.”

Any leader, saying those words is like you and me blowing hot air out our mouths. They’re empty words. They’re empty plastic hot air, which brainwashed listeners inevitability follow with cheering.

The time for action is now.”

Action, for the world. For the environment. For war. For peace. For the end to poverty. You name it action has been called for it. So as the President paused, nobody blinked an eye. Nobody doubted what word would come next. Nobody was probably even listening. And then he finished his sentence.

“The time for action is…past.”

And he pulled out a gun. And that got everyone’s attention.

“Vengeance will not be swift. Vengeance, will be long.”

Maybe all the ‘believers’, the rednecks, maybe right there they’re all thinking,

“OK! Yi-har! Finally we gonna kick some terr-or-ist ass!”

And the President continued.

“Vengeance will be long. Vengeance, will be like hell on earth.”

You can still hear the crowds, how they started up their cheering, their whooping, their racist rhetoric.

“If you want a swift exit, if you want to go out on your own terms,”

The President, he said this, so assured of his own words, never wavering in his intent, so sure of his actions. And right there, he put the gun to his head. Never doubting that what he was about to do was anything but the right, no, the only, thing to do.

“Then I suggest you do as I do.”

The President standing there, with a gun to his own head. And not one of his secret service gurus budge an inch. And still his flock of brainwashed sheep applaud.

“I urge you, go swiftly, go now, before it’s too late.”

Our President. His final words.

For then, without batting an eyelid, the President, our President, he pulled the trigger and blew himself away.


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