Members of our group tend to go off on rather elaborate adventures, often returning with exotic treasures or exciting new skill sets. One time Walt came back to the apartment at 2 a.m., covered in the blood of whatever mangled creature he was dragging in behind him; Mick was worried he’d gotten into a car accident, until he remembered that Walt didn’t drive. Walt made no attempt at an explanation, choosing to simply state, “You’ll thank me when we’re waist-deep in maize.”
Another time Walt and Mick awoke to find that someone had left a foosball table in the middle of their living room. Before you ask, yes, it is the very table at which Walt is playing in today’s strip, and no, it wasn’t any of the usual suspects. We do have a hunch as to who it may have been, though.
In fact, in the span of one year the boys in apartments 202 and 304 managed to:
- learn how to kill using boomerangs
- craft exquisite jewelled eggs
- learn calligraphy
- learn coin tricks
- find a leprechaun
The point is that while Calvin’s behavior may seem eccentric to the sane (or even just the well-medicated), it is actually par for the course in the apartment. There is a rich history behind that yo-yo, a history that reaches across two continents and into the depths of ennui. But that is a tale for another time. Now we are entering into what the fellows call “The Feast of the Golden Prism”, a festival which is revered above even some of the more established holidays.
Churro season is a tradition with no need for pretense. That crispy, doughy snack is delicious on a level that defies empirical deliberation. The thought of a churro is believed to be capable of sustaining a man for two whole days; the aroma, ferried across the currents upon the gossamer wings of cherubim, is fabled to heal stab wounds while adding two points to both stamina and constitution. If you take anything from today’s post, dear readers, let it be this: to eat a churro is to dine upon the very food of the gods.
Man, I am hungry.