I wish my pages were set up so I could issue a “WARNING: THIS COMIC WILL MELT YOUR FACE CLEAN OFF” but, alas, if you are reading this you are probably already dead. Before seeing this comic I boasted about being the physical representation of everything Wild Horse stands for, but this week’s guest artist, Millie, has me eating humble egg pie – the very eggs that were on my face after making such a uneducated comment – the very eggs that cooked on my face while my face was melting due to reading this comic. Because you see, as Motley Crue once observed, it doesn’t matter how crazy you might be there will always be an Ozzy Osbourne. Millie is my Ozzy.
By now you are probably curious about this “Millie”, so let me shed some light. Millie knows how to party. Big time. It’s both a shame and a blessing that I don’t live in the same state as Millie because although I would most assuredly have the best weekends ever experienced by mankind, I would also most assuredly be dead. Millie has far too much energy than is good for anyone, and she uses this power for evil, not good. The last time I called her to see what she was up to, she put herself on loudspeaker with two French dudes she had just met on main street while she was still in a Medusa dress up costume (featuring some R18+ rated snakes for her hair) from her last party. Crazy chick.
The electricians at my house said power would be back on today so with any luck there will be power back on within the next 4 months. But, as a strong gesture of turning lemons into lemonade, I thought I would review the motel that housed me for a few lonely nights. The cheapest, seediest motel on the southern coast of Australia, the Jackson Motel!
The best thing about this place was that it had a pool. The worst part about this place was the pool. I regretted that decision quickly and am not yet psychologically ready to recount why. But it worked out well in way: the aftermath of the “pool incident” was the only thing that could have got me in the shower. And as it turns out, the shower was awesome! It’s one of those places that has never heard of “water saving” as a concept and the shower almost has enough power to make you drown standing up! And before you ask, no there was no creepy shower curtain like the one in the “Psycho” movie. Apparently it was in the shop getting “patched up”.
The main thing that pissed me off during my stay, ironically, was the bar fridge. This was for two reasons. Firstly it wasn’t stocked, secondly it made a really loud and abrupt hissing noise whenever you got anywhere close to sleep. This was almost always followed by the guy in the room next to me shouting out “SHUT UP” to me through the wall, as if he thought it was me making the noise. Oh yeah, the walls were paper thin. I probably could have fallen through one if I tripped into it. The beds were generally pretty decent, apart from a single absurdly lumpy pillow which kept me awake (due to being unable to stop thinking how it got so lumpy). The last noteworthy thing about this magnificent establishment was the receptionist dude. It might be a symptom of working for an unsuccessful motel but the guy was outwardly shocked whenever anyone was foolish enough to walk into his motel. Or maybe it was the fact I wasn’t accompanied by a prostitute that baffled him.
Either way, I give the Jackson Hotel 4.5 stars. Who wants to stay in a “classy” hotel anyway?
Thanks once again to the wildest filly going around: Millie! I’m not sure if I’ll be able to find a scanner this week but there will definitely be another guest artist comic on the weekend at the very least. Peace out horsies!