It’s weird the things that stick with a person. Whether or not I ever started a post with that sentence has not, and will not, but inconsequntial stories my Dad told me when I was younger have. I guess the latter is more important, but I do mean the stories are of the unimportant variety.

This comic is about one of those stories, or, rather, my actions were about one. My Dad claims to have never had to sit next to anyone on a bus. Such a thing seems kind of hard to believe, but I don’t much imagine he travelled by bus very often. So I am inclined to believe him, but I always do anyway. His secret was some natural look. An aura maybe. Something that told people not to sit next to him. I wish I had that.