So I sold the original art for this baby last night.

As we speak she is on my private underground train bound for the Kingdom of the Painted Desert, where she will be mounted in full regalia,

Can you tell I've been boning up on my Game of Thrones Audiobooks, and can I say now Fuck Catelyn Stark, is anyone else aware this whole thing is her fault, and she was a bitch to Jon Snow, that always bothered how everyone defended her,

I'm not saying there won't be a Lady Stoneheart Commission in my future, but who will I team her up with?

Before we get to the task at hand, Superman cruelly mocking my shame and embarrassment in the latest issue of Action Comics, let's discuss the new commissions I have ordered from Master Cabaltierra

Oh yes, Mary Sue is going in the Steel Bikini and I want to make sure Kathleen Kennedy sees it, complete with a Frozen Carbonite Chewbacca,

More Harley Joker Mashups -- this one will have Harley as Han Solo blasting away a GREEDO JOKER

I may keep this one because it sounds too cool, even if it was created by someone yelling at me from across the lounge.  This one will not be a Slave Leia Harley, it will be a TWILEK HARLEY backing up a JABBA JOKER -- Fuck yes its happening,

All these commissions and more brought to by my newest Kickstarter,



Starting with the cover, which to me can only be the long awaited Death Match between The Wolfman vs The Mountie, I immediately was taken aback or afront when I was so immensely mocked by the story at hand,

Fuckin Superman is about to get wrapped up in a fantasy football story, right after I ate my liver and balls this past weekend in the AFC & NFC Championship Games, where I had to literally sit like a baby in the corner while my lineups slid down faster then your wiping hand after a good Chipotle dump,

Superman saves a car stuck on the railroad, which is about to get plowed since the conductor was sneaking a swill from his flask -- man those Great Depression Days were filled with darkness,

While inspecting the stopped train for damages, Superman overhears a collection of hired thugs doing business with a crooked football coach, who has set up the thugs to play as ringers for his team in an effort to guarantee a victory and secure his job.

Superman, who secretly has played a Dale University onslaught stack on his Draftkings account, is pretty fuckin pissed that the Cordell University Coach won't do the right thing and let the points and profit be decided on the field.  So naturally he goes in and fucks up the thugs and coach and brings them to justice RIGHT?

WRONG!  This Superman is a down low conniving badass, and he has a better plan then thug smashing,

Superman goes through the team folders and settles on Tommy Burke, long time journey man QB, basically the Vinny Testaverde of our Westeros Universe,

With a little face paint and some voice acting, Superman knocks out Tommy Burke and assumes his identity, promising to give him the game of his life,

Even with all the necessary drama building up to Superman putting in perhaps the greatest single game fantasy performance of all time,

And I continue to feel the burning sensation in my heart as I happen to glance over and notice the person sitting behind the real Tommy Burke, who was watching Superman perform as him in the stands to the delight of the unknowing fans in the stadium.

By the time the game is over Superman has nearly crippled every opposing player on the field, exposed the thugs and crooked coach and gave Tommy Burke one last ride in the Sun.

But you see none of that means shit, what you didn't notice in all the crude 1938 style art was the young boy sitting next to Tommy Burke in the stands,

That boy was in fact GIL KANE, my grandfather, and he was playing a Draftkings that pivoted away from Tommy Burke, because he didn't believe the hype,

Had he known anything about the fuckin switch to Superman and maybe, just friggin maybe, your man Faro would be writing this story from the palace I inherited from his winning fantasy lineup,

Que sera, sera, I am forced to continue to peddle my wears to all you commoners, endlessly quipping my way to a literary coma.

Stay Tuned True Believers, and go get some Kicks & Clocks at my new store,


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