Don’t Choke.

The other day Audrey handed me a monster specimen of a cherry tomato and warned me not to choke on it. The first image that came to me was what you see in the most recent comic. The thought of some oxymoronically sized nightshade being eaten in the completely wrong manner was too good not to draw. The comic was also an interesting study in the sense that I've never drawn Audrey as a cartoon before. She didn't complain, so mission accomplished. Now if only she'd let me repost the Victorian corset-clad portrait I did of her way back.

I still haven't eaten the tomato in question. It really is pretty big- almost normal tomato sized. I don't even know where to start. Biting into it conjures images of John Noble's character King Denethor feasting alone in a great hall, amidst a battle where his own son rides to his demise. While a hobbit serenades in the background, the king ravenously eats scraps of food, which includes some cherry tomatoes, the sloppy juice running down his chin. Every time I see John Noble or a goddamn cherry tomato, I think of this scene and I shudder a little.

It took me a whole season to get over it watching Fringe.

Granted, most of my meals are eaten above the kitchen sink in my boxers at odd intervals during the day. Like 3pm and 1:50am. But to just bite into it and risk chin dribble? Barbaric.

My other option is to break out cutlery to carve up the gargantuan vine-fruit, which just seems like it's too much. Using cutlery on hand-held foods is reserved for Chipotle burritos, and it smacks of snobbery. Because what's important, when in my boxers at the kitchen sink, is that I don't seem elitist. Its like when Mickey Mouse, in his Jack and the Beanstalk story, wherein the poor bastards only had one bean to eat and they portioned it into transparent slices. Pathetic.

Scratching these two methods off the list pretty much leaves one option: swallowing the whole thing. This is clearly the desperate move of a man stymied by his preconceived notions of how not to eat, decided by memories of old cartoons and fantasy epics. John Noble really did ruin tomatoes for me. Godammit.

Eddie found himself next on my list of subjects. I opted to use a softer brush to bring out how pretty and regal he is. The man practically glows in the greased lens of his majestic life. YAWN. Though I do think I hit the mark. A bit more stylized than I'd like, but he really does have saucer eyes.

Now I just have to combine my two feline subjects into the most flattering, yet ridiculous portrait ever. I'm worried that the two styles will clash, but they already have this Yin-Yang thing going on.

What with Eddie being a white cat with conventionally perfect features and cool composure, while Ferdinand represents the flawed, primal side; frantic and wild in nature. The portrait itself will be hyperbolic in its mockery of the whole photo-portrait genre. Some of you may know where this is going, the rest will have to wait.

In the meantime, here's Ron Livingston, the reason I don't sleep anymore.