Halloween wishes from Dave!

Happy Halloween Ultra Mega Pals, you devilishly devious assortment of naughty treats. How's your Halloween season been treating you? I have been prepping my house slowly for the scariest monster of all, who is due to arrive in December. Not Santa, but my child-to-be, Arthur. I recently got a 3D scan of him, and am pleased to report that he has a face. That's my boy *wipes tear*.

It is at this time, as the stork prepares himself to knock on my door and make his delivery, that I am full of the most important questions. How will my boy feel about having a dad who draws crude comics for a living? Will he think my hat is cool? What's his stance on tribal divisions in Northern Ireland? Will he be upset that he has possibly inherited my lack of ability to grow a beard? Will he be thankful that he doesn't have my incredibly pointy elbows (Kris Wilson likes to mock me for this)? All of these are important.

This time also demands reflection and introspection. Namely, at what point did I become a monumental fuckup, so that I may point my child in the opposite direction? My mother sent me a photo today that I think may be the answer.

BEHOLD. The year is 1994. My closest friend Ryan is Dracula. There is an unknown spook on the far right- but where's Dave, you might ask? It may surprise you to know that the anonymous garbage ghost on the left is INDEED ME.

Apparently I wanted to go trick-or-treating and it was already like, 8pm at night, so my mother threw something together last minute. Her and I are still not sure what I was actually meant to be, but we can both agree that I look like something that would be found on the corner of a stinky Manhattan street on garbage day. Of special note is the tinfoil carefully cut up into strips and just slapped on the front. Because that's what ghosts have. And what's with the goatee beard? Maybe I'm dressed as Trent Reznor. I was a pretty cool kid in 1994. Anyway, I remember that ghost on the right ripping Ryan's vampire cape later that evening and making him cry. Sorry for telling everyone, Ryan.

I hope your bellies are full of candy, and that you've left room for Christmas turkey, because don't forget, Christmas starts tomorrow.

Love,

-Dave