Yesterday, well, the evening that led into yesterday morning, I had a great idea. I thought it would've been perfect. The well laid out plot for and eight panel comic here. The problem? This happened about 3 in the morning as I was tossing and turning. I reached over to find the pen I keep by the bedside, terrifying my wife in the process. I grab the pen and press directly onto my palm the two words that would've triggered my memory. The morning comes. The pen had run dry. No note exists. Oh well.

Like sands through the hourglass. Or something. I'm really bummed about it, though, because I thought it had perfect pacing, a great punchline and a hilarious follow-through.

Of course, some of that might've been having a couple drinks and a garbage plate with my friends the night before.

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