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1. 

   Margueritem said, 9 months ago

   I like this one a lot. Indulge yourself more.

2. 

   farren said, 9 months ago

   But would your grandmother understand your turning into a guy?

3. 

   ejcapulet said, 9 months ago

   Yeah, I’m with margueritem, I like it, too!

4. 

   itchybacon said, 9 months ago

   She’s baaaaack!

5. 

   jojoba2 said, 9 months ago

   “I wanted to take your face in my hands, kiss you on the mouth, at the funeral / […] / When the maid of the seas /whispered to me in the breeze / She said ‘Sex / is the opposite of death […] / it’s just the life force / enjoy yourself’ she said, ‘Take my husband to bed.’ ”

6. 

   kome said, 9 months ago

   Tender hearted.

7. 

   plight said, 9 months ago

   Then she spoke. I leaned closer. I could hear perfectly well but it was an affectation that pleased her. Occasionally she patted my head or stroked the hair back from around my eyes. Time was not an issue for either of us; I knew I would soon be allowed out to play with my cousins as long as I changed my Sunday clothes, and she knew with a certainty that these few minutes were the full quota of what she could manage. I was not used to people speaking without moving their hands or without a reasonable range of facial gestures. When I thought she wouldn’t notice I studied my grandmother’s face for traces of what she was really saying. I think it was there, but it was written in a language of resignation unfamiliar to me.
   I don’t remember anything she said in those meetings. Perhaps she gave me advice for the future. I think once she mentioned a ship and for some years the reference puzzled me. As I wasn’t sure, however, I came to regard the ship as probably one of my own inventions. I wanted those talks with my grandmother to have left a trace. I wanted a legacy, something like the verbal equivalent of a tiny gift pressed into my palm at the end of an overseas holiday. I wished I had the kind of memory that could have recorded her words, lucid or not, so that I would have something of her to carry forward with me.
   At the funeral I couldn’t cry the way I was supposed to. It was not a matter of feeling. I was ashamed. I was too ashamed to cry. I was disappointed with myself. I remember seeing my brother with a screwed up face that made him look seventy. I hoped that no-one noticed. I don’t remember anything, I thought to myself. I should have remembered, oh heart of me I should have. That’s probably all she wanted. And now I still press the inner reaches of my memory to their limit, hoping their might be a phrase in their somewhere. I can cry now, but it doesn’t help. I don’t remember anything other than the smell of her hands.

8. 

   prettyfeet said, 9 months ago

   Wonderful strip today, Teresa.

9. 

   Margueritem said, 9 months ago

   plight: Is that a true story, or one that you made up to go with today’s comic?

10. 

    3hourtour said, 9 months ago

    I know it’s not the same but I peed the bed once and then my brother slept on it

11. 

    plight said, 9 months ago

    Margueritem, it’s from a novel to be published this year.

12. 

    Fenyugreek Tubbsbott... said, 9 months ago

    plight:
    Truly powerful and very moving.
    Did you compose it?

13. 

    Margueritem said, 9 months ago

    plight says:

    Margueritem, it’s from a novel to be published this year.

    Excellent.

14. 

    Gweedo Murray said, 9 months ago

    I’m guessing plight’s book will be big on the use of hands.

15. 

    plight said, 9 months ago

    Actually, I’m not into shameless self-promotion.
    I suppose my point was that I had a certain experience with my dying grandmother and I decided to use it for one of the characters in a novel manuscript. It’s one of the few bits of ‘me’ that’s genuinely in there so I remember the passage quite well.
    This frogapplause strip, regardless of what drove its creation, reminded me of my own experience in struggling with the issue. The death of a grandmother was obviously a powerful experience in the head of a 12-year-old. Was it okay to harvest that memory for use in a work of fiction, for sale? Perhaps. Perhaps I can salve my conscience with the other 110 chapters of complete and utter lies.

16. 

    Landri Sheppard said, 9 months ago

    sry i dont think this ones funny…