Bizarro is brought to you today by The Perfect Mother’s Day Gift.
I notice from calendar that today is Mother’s Day. If I had noticed six weeks ago when I drew this cartoon that it was going to run on Mother’s Day, I might have made it have something to do with that. Other cartoonists seemingly go out of their way to do feel good cartoons on these kinds of holidays but I’m too stupid to think that far ahead.
But wait, I just noticed something else. At the bottom left of this cartoon, I put “Happy Mother’s Day, Mom!” which means I did notice it was going to run on Mother’s Day. Apparently I’m too stupid to remember that I thought that far ahead.
So let’s pretend that this cartoon is about Mother’s Day. It’s about a “boy” king and boys come from mothers. If it weren’t for his mother, who likely had the king murder his previous wife and her offspring to assure her own son’s ascension to the throne, then the king himself, this lucky young man wouldn’t even be king. So “THANKS, MOM!”
Conversely, my own mother did not arrange to have anyone killed to assure that I would be king, which is why I’m a cartoonist. I’m not fond of big responsibilities, especially ones that require that one act in a respectable fashion every time they leave the house, so I think I would not like being king of anything. So I, too, shall say, “THANKS, MOM!”
And since people like to take their moms out on Mother’s Day, I will add this cartoon with a hidden and very valuable message: don’t bring your mom to a restaurant with rats scurrying about the floor. I’ve had some experience in this area and can report that the presence of rats will enhance the dining experience of very few women.
So, off you go – call mom, take her out to eat, steal some flowers from the park on your way and pretend you didn’t forget it was Mother’s Day until you read this blog.
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The comic about the rat playing footsies in a restaurant reminds me of a friend who was dining in a kitschy Hawaiian restaurant in SoCal once and felt a tickling on his ankle. He reached down and found a cockroach on his leg. He asked the waitress for a “to go” container, and left the cockroach in the container on the table when we left. Anytime you touched the container, the roach would scramble around and it was un-nerving. I wish I could have seen the face of the person clearing the table when they touched the container.
Regarding the footsie rat, this pretty much happened to us. Early date with my now-wife she commented on my playing footsie. Turned out it was a mouse. We left rather quickly.