#127 Workbird Menace

November 30, 2018
This is a comic about workbirds, fire, wind, earth and causality.


Peacemongers were too gallant in their ceremonial burnings; their headquarters was in ashes. So was the neighbourhood. And a nearby banana farm. And its owner’s massive bug dung collection. Now the city smelled of burnt bug dung.

So the workbirds became exiles in the smack middle of the growing city. They kept hammering away at the foot of a worthless landfill of abandoned rocks.

Space was limited, but everybody was happy.
Workbird: “Now I can build with no worries whatsoeveeeeeeeeer!”



Gheralf says:

Wind is one cruel mister.

Want to ask me if my paperstacks agree?

Yes, they agree.


Vayandil says:

It is a shame to know that something as impressive as a bug dung collection has vanished and no one has come out to bring it back. I would like to see an exhibition!