Young reporter and recent college grad Sam Sturdivant arrives to work late for the fifth day in a row. Stumbling ever so slightly, he passes the doorway of his boss' office.

Boss: Not so fast, Sturdivant. Can you come in here a minute?

Sam Sturdivant: (Walks in, winded. Sits.) ...What.

Boss: Sturdivant, why did I just watch you stroll into work an hour and a half late?

SS: ...

Boss: Sturdivant?

SS: ...hmmwha?

Boss: Wow. You just fell asleep. Unbelievable.

SS: I absolutely did not.

Boss: You're drooling.

SS: That's just, um... water. Stretchy water. Something's wrong with the fountain out there I think.

Boss: Sturdivant, my patience for your endless list of excuses is rapidly wearing thin. This is the fifth straight time you've been tardy.

SS: I mean, yeah?

Boss: It's also your fifth day working here.

SS: Oh, weird. Same number. That's spooky.

Boss: Kid, give me one reason why I shouldn't shit-can your ass right this second.

SS: ...

Boss: WELL??

SS: ...hmmwha? Oh. I, uh... I would, sir, but I'm not at liberty to talk about it.

Boss: Son, if you at all value this job, I recommend you spill, and quick.

SS: ...Well, can I trust you?

Boss: Fine. Whatever. Out with it.

SS: Sir, I... I'm a superhero.

Boss: A... superhero.

SS: A costumed crime-fighter? You know, like Batman? Iron Man? Except for reals.

Boss: That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard... but goddamnit you have an honest face. Go on.

SS: It's 100 percent true, sir. My, uh, my alter ego is... (looks around office) ...Stapler...Boy.

Boss: Stapler Boy.

SS: Yes sir, because, see, as a teenager, I accidently got my hand stapled by this... radioactive Swingline.

Boss: This is incredibly implausible. I'm listening...

SS: Also my parents were murdered right before my eyes by a series of horrific, um, paper cuts... so I walk the streets at night, shooting staples at things, to avenge them.

Boss: But how did paper-

SS: Sir! Please. I don't like to talk about it.

Boss: Of course. I'm... so sorry for your loss. But, with all due respect, what does any of this have to do with your excessive absence?

SS: Well, like this morning, for instance, I was busy saving orphans from a flash flood... in Venezuela. I can fly at the speed of staples, did I mention that part?

Boss: No. (Tosses a staple.) Hmm... that doesn't seem very fast... what about the day before? You reeked of alcohol...

SS: Oh! I spent the previous night doing battle with my archnemesis. Comrade Vodkaface. He's Russian.

Boss: ...and the other stench? That urine smell?

SS: Hmm. That was because of his sidekick... Petey Piss Puddle.

Boss: You also had a... phallus... drawn on your forehead...

SS: The Magic Marker. That bastard.

Boss: ...and this weird stain on your pants.

SS: Courtesy of that dastardly Nocturnal Emission, no doubt! Anyway I'm sure you heard about that epic four-way brawl. It was in all the papers.

Boss: Sturdivant.

SS: What?

Boss: This is a newspaper.

SS: Right. Well, maybe if you would stop hassling me every goddamn day and focus on your own job, you guys wouldn't miss important stories like that.

Boss: Hmm. I apologize, Sturdivant. I shouldn't have doubted you.

Intern: (rushing in) Sir! There's a four-alarm fire in the building across the street!

Boss: My God! Sturdivant! What the hell are you waiting for!?

SS: You mean, you want me to go write about it? I was about to take my lunch break...

Boss: No! Sturdivant, you have to save those people!

SS: Oh, uh, but I mean... my costume looks ridiculous, heh...

Boss opens window.

SS: But we're like 25 stories up.

Boss: I know, it's the perfect height! I can see the smoke from here... Fly like staples, Stapler Boy!

SS: But-

Boss: GO! (Shoves Sturdivant out window.)

Intern: Um, sir? What the hell.

Boss: Hang on a sec. (Looks down.) Wait for it... wait for it... oooo, little rough on the landing. God I hate slackers. Hey kid, can you go repost that job listing on Career Builder?

Special thanks to Happy Happy Happy Man for working his skinny little Asian fingers to the bone on these illustrations.

Professor: K guys, can anyone in here tell me how Tyrannosaurus Rex found its food?

Student: Most of today's scientists agree that T-Rex was a scavenger. Kind of like a prehistoric vulture or someth--

Tim Murphy: Whoa, whoa, whoa.

Professor: *Sigh* Something to say, Tim?

Tim: Just that I beg to f**king differ, is all.

Professor: Of course you do. What is it this time?

Tim: You couldn't BE more wrong. Those things are vicious, man. They'll stop at nothing to get to their prey, even if they have to, like, tear apart an entire SUV and toss it into a ravine and make me throw up all over myself.

Artwork by Happy Happy Happy Man, who I'd totes go gay for.

GF: Baby look there's a caricature artist! Do you wanna get one done?

BF: Oh, I don't know sweetie...

GF: Please?? It'll be so much fun, I promise. I'll watch from the other side, mkay?

BF: ...You don't wanna be in it too?

GF: Oh, no. I'm much too sensitive about my looks.

BF: OK...

Artist: Are you ready, sir? I need you to stay kind of still...


GF: Ohmygod, haaahahaha!!

BF: What is it?

Artist: Sir? Hold still please?

GF: Nothing baby, it's just... he nailed your forehead. I mean NAILED it. Hahaha wait -- is that a drive-in movie being projected onto it? Oh that's classic.

Artist: (Smiling) Yeah, ya like that?

GF: Nice touch. Baby this is hilarious.

BF: Heh. Yeah, the forehead. I get it from my mother's side, I guess. Hey, baby?

Artist: Sir. Please.

BF: Of course. Sorry.


GF: AAAAAHAHAHA! OMG, ELL. OH. ELL. He is absolutely killing me over here! Dude, you are seriously, like, an ar-teest. This practically doesn't even qualify as a caricature, it's so realistic. Look at that chin! It's almost phallic!

BF: (Squirming) Really? I don't even think I have a big chin though--

Artist: SIR! STILLNESS! NOW!!

BF: (Eyes well up.)


GF: HAHAHA oh that's perfect. Now... I dunno. Is there some way you could draw, like, a really small penis on him? We're talking, like, microscopic.

BF: Baby please no.

Artist: God DAMN IT MAN so help me I will leap over this easel and rip your f**king THROAT OUT if you DON'T. STOP. MOVING!

GF: (Doubled over) BAAAAAHAHAHAHA, this is too funny. Baby, you're holding, like, a big-ass magnifying glass over your junk, and it's STILL TINY! Holy crap, this is going on my wall TODAY. It could hang in a museum, even. Hah, maybe I'll call one, you know? Baby?