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Career moves for burnt o.., p.1
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       Career Moves For Burnt Out Personifications, p.1

           Brian Bakos
 
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Career Moves For Burnt Out Personifications
CAREER MOVES

  for Burnt-Out Personifications

  by Brian Bakos

  Copyright 2013 Brian Bakos / revised 09 - 2016

  Color Art: Rob Jones

  Table of Contents

  Preface

  Intro.

  Santa’s Last Ride

  The Grim Reaper Rocks On

  Ebenezer Scrooge Wises Up

  The Easter Bunny Checks Out

  The Tooth Fairy Bites Off

  Ishmael Reconsiders

  The Red Menace Fades

  Moby Dick Submerges

  Big Tobacco Gets Burned

  Uncle Sam Gets His Groove Back

  Herr Adolf Goes Under Cover

  Joe Six Pack Meets Executive Suit

  Minority Democrat Meets Limousine Liberal

  Mother Nature Gets Ticked

  Epilog

  Connect with the Author

  Brian’s Other Books

  Preface

  Hear what critics are saying about this exciting graphic novel! (identities hidden to protect their reputations)

  “A violent and perverse work ideal for today’s sensibilities.” – xx, xxxxx

  “A smorgasbord of paranoid ramblings. Something to offend everyone.” – xx, xxxxx

  “Where is Captain Marvel when we need him? Where is Locust Man?” – xx, xxxxx

  “If you admit to liking this book, then kiss your friends good-bye.” – xx, xxxxx

  “Pure trash!” – xx, xxxxx

  Editor’s Note:

  This graphic novel contains as much artwork as I could afford at the time. I hope the textual descriptions will fill in the story – use your imagination.

  And don’t complain! The book’s cheap ain’t it?

  Intro.

  It’s easy to throw around abstractions like Santa Claus, the Grim Reaper, or the “Average Guy.” But how would you like to be one of these symbolic characters? Wouldn’t you get fed up?

  So, if you’re a working cultural personification, this message is for you:

  Are you burnt out by the unending grind? Are people expecting way too much from you? Perhaps it’s time for a change. Enter to find your path to an exciting new career.

  Santa’s Last Ride

  Santa was making his list and checking it twice, just like every year.

  Pic: Santa sits at a table – quill pen in hand, brow furrowed. His pipe in an ashtray curls smoke. A long scroll of paper unwinds before him, over the table and down to the floor.

  Pic: Santa sits back exhausted.

  SANTA: “I don’t care any more who’s been naughty or nice.”

  Pic: Drags on his pipe wearily.

  “I’ve been in this racket too long. There’s gotta be more to life.”

  He scans the job board on his computer.

  “Not much of a job market for fat, old white guys, I’m afraid.”

  Pic: Massages temples, eyes closed, pained expression.

  “That’s what you get for playing it straight. I haven’t skimmed a dime in all these years!”

  A real thumper of a headache was coming on. Then –

  Pic: Elves dump huge sacks of mail on the table. Letters overflow to the floor. Santa looks on aghast. Thud!

  SANTA: “Greedy brats! ‘Give me this Santa … give me that.’ When’s the last time anyone sent me a present?”

  Pic: Places hand on chin, thoughtful expression.

  “Maybe I could outsource this mail to China ... Naw, somebody’d find out. They’d say I was a Commie.”

  Pic: Two elves bring Santa a large brown paper covered box.

  ELF: “This came, too, S.C.”

  Pic: Santa hefts the box. Looks bemused.

  SANTA: “Man, this is heavy.”

  Pic: Santa tears off the brown paper, beneath is a gaily wrapped package with a card.

  Pic: Pleasure spreads across Santa’s face, he reads the card:

  Yo Santa!

  Hope you like this little toy. Have some fun, man, live a little.

  [signed] An Admirer

  Pic: Eagerly tears off the gift wrap paper. The opened box reveals a Tommy gun and drums of ammunition.

  SANTA: “What the #$%!”

  Pic: Santa pulls out the gun and an ammo drum, a look of absolute bafflement on his face. Looks up at the reader. The bafflement changes to an evil leer.

  He loads and cocks the gun. Fires a burst. Blamma Blamma!

  Pic: Winks at the reader.

  SANTA: “It’s an oldie but a goodie, just like me!”

  Pic: Santa blasting away inside the factory, elf workers dive for cover. Ka-Pow Pow! Piu Piu!

  The new gift proved very useful in negotiations with the Toy Factory labor force.

  Pic: Santa looking about the bullet-riddled kitchen, gun at the ready. Mrs. Claus is seen through the kitchen window, running through the snow, arms waving frantically.

  Mrs. Claus finally quit her incessant nagging.

  Pic: Reindeer lounging around the stable socializing over a poker game. Smoking cigarettes and drinking beer. Pinups of female reindeer. Outside the open door, Santa approaches with his gun.

  And the Reindeer learned who was boss.

  Pic: Santa fires a burst into the barn ceiling. Reindeer cower. Blasta Blasta!

  Pic: The reindeer stand at rapt attention. All amusements are abandoned, poker table upturned, glasses smashed, pinups shredded with bullet holes. Santa walks before them, like an officer inspecting troops. He has a self-satisfied look, gun cradled on hip.

  Pic: Santa approaches his sleigh. Slung over his other shoulder is the great toy sack with the Tommy gun muzzle poking out. The elves and Mrs. Claus look on forlornly.

  So, after bidding a fond farewell to everyone – Santa embarked on his Christmas ride.

  Pic: The sleigh takes off.

  SANTA: “On Comet, on Cupid, etc.!”

  Pic: View from the ground. Elves and Mrs. Claus look up, watching the sleigh rise.

  MRS. CLAUS: “Boo-hoo, whatever got into him?”

  ELF: “He’s just having a bad day, Mrs. C.”

  SECOND ELF (aside): “Looks like he’s having a pretty good one to me.”

  Pic: Mrs. Claus dangles a pair of long underwear.

  MRS. CLAUS: “He forgot to put on his long Johns!”

  ELF: “Don’t worry, he brought a heater with him.”

  SECOND ELF (aside): “Yeah, .45 caliber type.”

  Pic: Excited boy looks out an airliner window at Santa’s sled below. Santa is firing, away from the airliner. Mother sits beside him, looking into her makeup mirror. Dad is in the aisle seat. Ebenezer Scrooge sits across the aisle.

  Throughout the night, strange sightings occurred.

  BOY: “Look Mom, it’s Psycho Claus!”

  MOM: “That’s nice. Now pull down the shade like a good boy.”

  DAD (thought): “Damn kid’s been playing too many computer games.”

  Pic: Santa firing away, singing. Ratta tattat tatta!

  The sky echoed with sweet music.

  SANTA: “Peace on earth, good will to men ...”

  Pic: Santa aiming at a witch, by the light of Rudolph’s nose. Witch tries to flee, panicked.

  Any broom riders left over from Halloween took to the sky at their peril.

  SANTA: “Damn it, Rudolph, hold steady!”

  Pic: Fighter plane in hot pursuit, Santa dives his sleigh earthward.

  SANTA: “Yeeee-Haaaaa!”

  Pic: Christmas carolers walk along the snowy street. Santa bears down from above.

  Pic: Carolers scatter in panic as Santa blasts the street behind them. Ratta-ta
tta! Ka-thoing!

  CAROLERS: “Ahhhh!”

  Pic: Santa parked on a roof top. Heads for the chimney with gun and toy sack.

  SANTA: “Gotta save this last ammo drum for something special.”

  Pic: Santa emerges from the fireplace into a typical living room. Decorated tree, etc. Milk and cookies await on the side table. A small boy observes from hiding.

  Pic: Santa is in mid-room, Tommy gun cradled in one arm, toy sack over his other shoulder. The boy emerges from hiding.

  Pic: Boy approaches brazenly.

  KID: “There really is a Santa Claus! My little brother said so, but I told him he was fulla crap.”

  SANTA: “Yes, it’s me, sonny. Ho Ho Ho!”

  KID: “Forget the ‘Ho Ho’ routine. What’d you bring me?”

  SANTA: “Well, I’ve got – ”

  Pic: Kid snatches the Tommy gun.

  KID: “This thing rocks!”

  SANTA: “Now hold on a minute .”

  Pic: Santa tries to restrain the kid. Kid wriggles away.

  KID: “Screw you, fat man!”

  Pic: Kid pulls the trigger. Recoil sends him flying around the room. Santa dives for cover.

  Brat-ratta-tatta!

  KID: “Yippee!”

  Pic: Kid blasts the Christmas tree, Santa disappears behind a sofa. Ratta-bratta-tatta!

  Pic: The picture window shatters. The kid has an ecstatic, demonic expression on his face.

  Ratta-tatta-bratta!

  Pic: The gun stops firing, and the kid drops back down.

  Pic: Kid shakes the gun. Santa’s head pokes up from behind the sofa.

  KID: “How come it ain’t firing?”

  SANTA: “It’s out of bullets.”

  Pic: Kid gives Santa a pugnacious look. Santa begins climbing over the sofa.

  KID: “Well, get some more!”

  SANTA: “I’m sorry, but that’s the last of them.”

  Pic: Mom & Dad creep down the stairs, worried, scared looks on their faces.

  MOM: “What’s going on, Eddie?”

  Pic: Eddie points the gun at them, they cringe.

  EDDIE: “Pow! Pow! Pow!”

  Pic: Parents jump through the shattered picture window and flee. Eddie roars with laughter.

  Pic: Santa reaches for the gun.

  SANTA: “Better give that back to me, Eddie.”

  EDDIE: “No! I want it.”

  Pic: Santa grabs the gun.

  Pic: Eddie throws a tantrum, screams, jumps up and down.

  EDDIE: “I want my Tommy gun! Gimme back my Tommy gun!”

  SANTA: “Now Eddie, you shouldn’t play with such naughty things.”

  Pic: Santa fishes in his sack.

  SANTA: “How about some music CDs? Easy Listening Gangsta Rap – Greatest Hits.

  EDDIE: “No! I only like Country music.”

  SANTA (thought) “The little brat doesn’t appreciate culture.”

  Pic: Eddie stomps out of the living room.

  EDDIE: “I’ll fix you! I know where Dad hides his Glock.”

  Pic: Santa steps outside through the broken picture window.

  Discretion being the better part of valor, Santa beat a hasty retreat.

  Pic: Dejected Santa wanders the street, approaches a Salvation Army bell ringer.

  SANTA: “I’ve really blown it. now. How can I possibly go home?

  Pic: Santa holds up the gun, looks baffled.

  SANTA: “This gun gave me a whole new personality ... Why did I shoot up the house?”

  Pic: Santa shrugs sheepishly.

  SANTA: “Well, it seemed like a good idea at the time.”

  Pic: Drops the gun into a Salvation Army kettle, to the astonishment of the bell ringer. Thunk!

  BELL RINGER: “T-thank you, sir.”

  SANTA: “I’m not really psychotic, I just got tired of being a sanctimonious old windbag.”

  BELL RINGER: “Whatever you say, Big Guy.”

  Pic: The bell ringer cringes away. A sly leer crosses Santa’s face.

  SANTA: “But it sure was fun while it lasted.”

  Pic: Santa shivers, arms wrapped around himself.

  SANTA: “Man, I forgot to wear my long Johns ... The Caribbean is nice this time of year, though, isn’t it?”

  Pic: The sleigh flying into a tropical area. Santa has unbuttoned his coat and taken off his hat. His long, white hair flows in the slipstream.

  So, Santa headed off to new horizons –

  Pic: Santa standing in a Tiki bar, a hot bimbo on each arm and a long cigar gripped in his teeth. The girls wear Bikinis and little red elf hats. A steel drum band plays, people dance. Drink in hand, Santa winks at the reader. Behind them is the entrance to Santa’s new business establishment, reindeer & sled are visible inside: SC’s Flight School & Petting Farm

  Where every day seemed like Christmas.

  Pic: Family from the airliner stands outside the Tiki bar, looking in. Mom is still working on her makeup in her mirror.

  KID: “So, who’s gonna bring us presents now?”

  DAD: “Relax, kid, ain’t you ever heard of Wal-Mart?”

  The Grim Reaper Rocks On

  Will the old Scythe Dude connect with his warm and fuzzy side, or is he just doomed to doom?

  GRIM REAPER: “I’m always looking for opportunities to meet new people, one on one –

  but it hasn’t worked out too well.”

  GRIM REAPER: “I thought that getting into the workforce was the answer for me – a way to be just ‘one of the guys.’”

  GRIM REAPER: “I enjoyed the work, and the boss really liked me. He made the mistake of trying to pat me on the back, though.”

  GRIM REAPER: “So, I had to leave that place, too.”

  GRIM REAPER: “The place had been looking to hire a new preacher for some time.”

 
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