With Christmas day fast approaching, I've decide to take a risk at alienating my readership by reviewing one of my favorite comic publishers in the world. That publishing company? Chick Publications. This company prints those hilariously zany super-religious comic tracts that you sometimes find on the windshield of your car, or being passed out by some nut at the park. Most of them are pretty disturbing, but there's one in particular that will blow your mind with its awesomeness. That story is
So, today, I bring you panel by panel coverage of the single greatest religious comic of all time. Our story begins in the quaint lair of the devil himself, where a party planning committee is in session! 2 weeks before the big party, and you've already loaded the city with drugs and alcohol? Apparently Satan never went to college. I can burn through a city load of beer in a weekend on a bad day. Luckily, they'll still be able to keep the party pumping with some crunchy tunes.
Yes, what could POSSIBLY go wrong? The devil has such a terrific track record up to now, this whole party scheme is a sure thing, right? Right? Maybe not, because...
Oh shit. After receiving a telepathic message from her BFF God, Rita Jones, the worlds foremost old lady, is on the case. She wastes no time making her 3 hour trek across the room to the telephone to call her granddaughter. Getting no answer, she decides to take the law into her own hands.
Apparently, in the rush to get to Jill in time, she completely misses the fact that she's been living in the same apartment as a devil monster for the past 78 years. But she's got no time for that, there's a granddaughter to save, damnit!
That's right. Rita Jones is so badass that Satan himself sees her as an immediate threat. Chuck Norris sleeps with a picture of Rita Jones next to his bed.
I LOVE to part here... This is my FAVORITE spot! Right here next to this creepy fat guy in a mask.
You know, I don't think I even need to point out the redundancy of his choice in costumes.
Yes, when looking for a single person in the midst of a large Mardi Gras-esque street festival, the best mode of operations is to ask the young cross-eyed boy which way to go. Speaking of which, where are that boy's parents?
Saving you from years of emotional scarring and therapy to recover from the horrors of date rape, that's what!
Yes, no sense in letting one single cosmopolitan go to waste. Good thing we had you around to act as our voice of reason, Fat Weird Al.
Sure, the drink killed him. But nobody notices how much weight he lost! I'd say that's fair exchange. Also, Jill, you're a grown woman who was flirting with a fat, greasy man in a mask while you were wearing some strange snake headdress in public and you're only embarrassed now?
I stand corrected. Apparently stupid headdresses are all the rage with the kids these days.
Honestly, I've got nothing for this one...
She said, as she stifled a yawn.
Am I the only one who notices what appears to be Ray Charles, Queen Latifah, and the Pope walking around at Satan's party? The next few panels are strictly about the story of Jesus, which I'm sure we've all heard before, so I left it out.
Good lord, Jill. For some reason I don't think that nasty granny incest is exactly what God has in mind.
So remember kids, drugs and alcohol aren't the only way to have a good time and should be used only in moderation. Also, don't talk to fat guys in masks because they are probably in cahoots with the devil.