"That night, the city BURNED..."

Encountered a rogue piece of road debris on the way back from a weekend away. (I have no idea what it was. It was sharp, metallic, sturdy, over a foot in height, and took up most of my lane. It reminded me of a a giant black vampiric mandible, actually. But I only saw it for a few seconds on an unlit road at night; the SUV in front of me cleared it without bothering to swerve, so I had four car lengths at highway speed to react to its presence, and to be honest my immediate response was more one of "EVASIVE MANUEVERS! ENEMY FIGHTERS AT TWELVE O'CLOCK, COMING UP FAST! DANGER, WILL ROBINSON, DANGER!!!" than "Gee, wonder what THAT is?" It didn't help that I had lines of traffic to either side of me and an 18-wheeler behind me ruling out any form of artful dodge, either.) Anyways, having torn the hell out of my undercarriage and limped to a service station, I then began the GEICO Tango.

I won't go into that in detail, because it's not something for the faint of heart. (My mechanic tells me it's probably not as bad as it seems and can be fixed fairly easily. This is good. I'm not injured. This is better. But getting a GEICO adjustor to call me and schedule an appointment so they can authorize a repair? The fed's'll've balanced the budget, revamped the tax code, fixed Medicare, and sent enough goodwill engineers down to help thaw out Hell after it's frozen THREE TIMES OVER by the time THAT happens....)

Suffice it to say, a picture is worth a thousand words, and most of THIS particular verbage is unprintable. Still, it's an appropriate metaphor for my temperment since Sunday night. GEICO's lucky I don't have Godzilla on speed dial.

Anyways. Prismas on sketchbook paper. Apologies for crappish handwriting; my penmanship suffers when my hands are shaking with anger.