Well, thus far I haven't come up with an artist to illustrate my comic book for me. Gastro, as I've mentioned before, has the power to make people poop themselves on command. Here's a taste of it:
The bigot was fiddling with his tie. Just seconds before he takes the podium at the Party convention. A handler tells him it’s time to ascend the stairs, which lead straight to the podium. It’s time. Phht. The great senator can’t believe what is happening. Phht phht. It used to happen when he was out playing as a child. He’d poop his pants and run home. He wasn’t going to run home this night. The podium was right in front of him. Phhht. Could the microphone be picking this up? Phhht phht phht splat. His pants were turning warm. Lord this stuff stunk. His BVD’s were filling up fast. “I want to be your president.” Were these people laughing.
The man in the green bow tie headed out the side entrance of the convention center. Who even knew it was possible to make people poop themselves on command? As a child, it was Ricky and Jerry who raced home to tell their mothers they need clean pants–never him. Gerald Popper had other places to be that night. His one weakness was it required line-of-sight. He hopped on the 27 bus.