It’s a windy day. The tormetted ocean is throwing it’s toys. Bouys and boats, helpless, rock and teeter.
Somewhere out there a boat is rising and falling, trying to ride out the storm. And on that boat there’s a boy, out fishing with his Dad. Well he was fishing, until the winds set in.
The boy and the bouy rocked together, turning green with sickness and seaweed, stirred up from the oceans floor.
Whitened knuckles grip the edges of the vessel awaiting a break in the weather, when he can return to the shore, and the comfort of Mamas arms. And the bouy can have peace.
(sorry about that, was compelled to write something about the weather)
I read panel two as “Did you soil the rug?” first time. The comic is smaller in the rss…
HA! That’s brilliant! And a much more entertaining (though ever so slightly less logical) line!
I also read that as “soiled” the rug
Ah poop..