Oxxidation posted:

Also, after reading the cookbook I learned that Philippe really is full-blooded French and grew up in Bordeaux. Wonder what made his parents (or maybe just his mom) move to the States and shrug him off on a house full of weirdos.

Dodgeball posted:

The latter was Philippe's mom accidentally mailing him out because she sold a lamp on eBay and thought Philippe was the lamp.

Wanderer posted:

At this point, I think the most fitting tribute/ending to Achewood would be a Tumblr or something where fans contributed their own prose/art concerning their hoped-for endings, similar to Lyle writing his own Hardy Boys finale/Harry Potter novel.

Points are awarded for endings which bear little to no resemblance to anything that was ever in the strip.

Johnny Aztec posted:

You can do whatever you like in life.

Locus posted:

You're just trying to get us to get all about quote accuracy now, aren't you?

Locus posted:

I still want to find out what happens to Theo Freedom, and also see the future predictions of Achewood come true. Ray losing his ears, etc.

Maybe some day...

Calaveron posted:

Plus, you gotta take into account Beef is supposed to outlive all of his friends, so chances are he either killed himself or depression and anxiety got him so hard that his body just shut down by itself.

quote:

Philippe is six.

Ray threw the usual party, the usual Underground shindig that was at once too adult and too fancy for a child's sixth birthday party, adults in tuxedos swilling complicated cocktails around the pool. Maybe that was because there were nothing but adults there, for whatever reason, as there had always been. Children didn't seem to trust or like Philippe, for no reason an adult could name.

Philippe blew out his six candles and wouldn't tell anyone his wish, because otherwise, it wouldn't come true. There was an odd feeling that descended over the crowd as he did, a sense of strangeness, like they'd all forgotten something important at once and they had forgotten that specific thing before. Some didn't quite have the words for it. Others - Cornelius, Ray - had all too many words for it, delivered on a thick tide of three-dollar verbiage or vodka fumes, and that occluded some of the intent.

Philippe turned six.

What really sealed the deal was later on, when Beef went through Molly's purse for breath mints and instead found a half-empty prescription bottle. It was for a regular dosage of antidepressants that would've kept a Clydesdale placid and it had Beef's name on the side. He put it together in the next five minutes, that those regular chocolate energy shakes in the morning were not just Molly trying to make sure his body had something in it besides self-loathing, and when she saw him standing there holding the bottle, she tensed for a fight that didn't come.

Teodor spent the back half of the party on Ray's phone. He took Lyle just seriously enough to know that the restauranteur business wasn't one he wanted to dip his hands into, because he'd pull them back with a thick coat of equal parts remoulade and moral compromise, but he also knew Ray, which was like knowing the special cheat code that automatically double-funded your Kickstarter. Besides, the real money was in being a talking head, and that he could do. It was the celebrity chef thing without everything that pissed Teodor off about being a celebrity chef, aided by Lyle, who could be relied upon to liven up a boring YouTube video by stumbling onto the set blitzed and nonetheless explaining in highly profane terms how to most efficiently deglaze. It all made the kind of sense that good inventions do, that someone should've come up with this about two hundred years ago, but they were too busy mourning a lost and idealized childhood to do so.

Nice Pete got caught dumping a stiff in a surprised farmer's back forty and managed to elude a three-state manhunt for two weeks. Pat moved to Sonoma, where his people - assholes, not homosexuals - migrated at regular intervals. Ray remained richer than he had any right to be, because there are certain points where wealth gets its own momentum and its possessor just has to get out of the way.

And Philippe turned six.

When people asked, Teodor said Philippe was a nephew, an adopted ward from indifferent parents, and in the doing got a bunch of positive column ink he felt vaguely guilty about. He's a six-year-old kid, not a prop, Teodor reasoned, but he managed to justify it by not having intended it. It didn't hurt that being an entreprenurial single father got him a very different but nonetheless satisfying brand of tail, less sunless girls in indie shirts and more single moms with drive and distinction.

Polly kept after Cornelius for a while to do something of his own, something fun, rather than churning out yet another to-the-specified-standards romance novel that did nothing but rip bodices and keep spinsters company in the bath. Cornelius resisted the impulse for long enough, wary of that impulse to simply fictionalize his life as the stuff of his private fantasy and thus be labeled a dirty old man with an active imagination, but she patiently wore him down. The resulting historical novel, a roman a clef about a young American exploring Europe against the backdrop of the 1960s, sold like a canteen full of hantavirus but it existed, and that was satisfying enough on its own.

All that happened in the subsequent month. A dam had burst.

More would happen before Philippe turned seven, and that would be much sooner than any of them had grown to expect.

Wanderer posted:

Philippe is six.

Fruits of the sea posted:

...Chris?

Chris is that you?

Wanderer posted:

tehloki posted:

I sort of wish they discussed the awesome way in which Lyle surely died before this comic took place. Perhaps drowning in raw fuel ethanol on a motorcycle?

Donjolly posted:

this is such a good idea that I re-registered

there is only one ending for us

Donjolly posted:

this is such a good idea that I re-registered

there is only one ending for us

Donjolly posted:

this is such a good idea that I re-registered

there is only one ending for us

quote:

The Donnybrook is a three-day bare-knuckle tournament held on a thousand-acre plot out in the sticks of southern Indiana. Twenty fighters. One wire-fence ring. Fight until only one man is left standing while a rowdy festival of onlookers—drunk and high on whatever’s on offer—bet on the fighters.
Jarhead is a desperate man who’d do just about anything to feed his children. He’s also the toughest fighter in southeastern Kentucky, and he’s convinced that his ticket to a better life is one last fight with a cash prize so big it’ll solve all his problems.

Toebone posted:

I was at a book release last night, and thought the plot of the novel was interesting...


Sounds a little familiar, no?

ManiacClown posted:

I'd just like to take this opportunity to express my amazement at the fact that, since 2007, I've not seen somebody one these forums change his user name to Leon Sumbitches.

ManiacClown posted:

I'd just like to take this opportunity to express my amazement at the fact that, since 2007, I've not seen somebody one these forums change his user name to Leon Sumbitches.