Hi, I’m End. I obviously have the worst spot in a book… the last page.
I mean, who likes a thumb pressing on their face all the time? It’s horrible! I JUST WANT PEACE AND QUIET!!! Prisoners are bad people, and they still get good spots. When I mean good, I mean the reader doesn’t put their thumb on your face. It’s not like I can move in the comic while a person is reading. Then, they would freak out, they would know our secret, and all that stuff. Plus, it’s really annoying when I walk through the book. I always hit my head on the speech bubbles.
This is what I look like: I have a big, round head, pretty long arms, and, I guess, short legs. My house is made out of sticks. My whole world is made out of sticks. I mean, who likes their world being plain black-and-white and sticks? Especially in the worst part of the book.
I really want to find another place.
Recently, the author of this book, Gary L. Henderson, passed away. When the reader closed the book, obviously a bunch of us cried. But me, eh, I didn’t cry a lot. The reason I didn’t cry a lot is because number one, the author put me in the worst place, and number two, I have long arms, but short feet and a big head. Most people call me “Balloon Head,” but whatever. When I mean whatever, I really mean whatever. I totally don’t care.
When the book is closed, I walk to the very back of the book and sit there. It’s the place that fits me the most in the book. It’s plain, it has no people in it, and when no one’s reading the book, it’s peaceful and quiet.
The president of stick figures, Bob Blob, declared that we should each trace a piece of Gary L. Henderson’s toenail so they could make a really small funeral at the end of the book, where the book cover is. Obviously, that really shocked me.
I climb up the cover. I get a little tired, so I go to the bottom of the book and sleep.
I end up outside. Being outside feels weird because when I come outside, I rip out a piece of paper that will keep me alive. Now, I just have to figure out a way to go back. Well, I actually don’t want to go back. Maybe I should have just figured out a way to hide.
So I wait and wait, until a cleaning lady sucks me up into the vacuum. Inside, there are gross stuff, like hair, dust, spider legs, and flies. It’s disgusting, but it’s okay because I find a piece of paper I can walk onto. A little bigger, but not a full piece of paper. I wait days, and those days turn into weeks.
Finally on the 11th week, the cleaning lady empties the vacuum. She drops a little on the floor, but gladly, I don’t fall on the floor. I find a paper shopping bag in the garbage. I go onto the bag and climb outside the trashcan. That’s when I get worried. I figure Gary L. Henderson has six hamsters. If only I could figure out a way to be a 3D object. Wait, I know, a 3D printer.
I waited another few weeks to go to the 3D printer. I’m an inch away from the 3D printer, but gladly, there’s a bunch of paper. I try to push my paper. It doesn’t work. So, I wait one hour, and the cleaning lady opens the window. A little wind pushes me onto the paper. I walk on the paper. Now, all I have to do is figure out a way to get into that 3D printer. I sadly waste 24 hours and six minutes printing myself when I can’t go into 3D printed-self.
I wake up. What actually happens is:
When I am at the end of the book, I start a huge ink-fire, and set a bone on fire, and go around town setting pretty much everything on fire. I know it’s a crazy thing. I mean, all I have to do is set fireworks all around the town without lighting them, so in my opinion, it is a great idea. Gladly, nobody is around because they are all huddled around the grave. I should burn the toenail too, but then they would kill me, so whatever.
But, I mean, who cares. Once I burn down all the stuff, it is still sticks, and plus, this is a stick figure comic book. I mean, the book’s called Ink City. They can just rebuild the stick city, but it’ll take a long time. But, who cares. All I have to do is, before they come, grab some sticks, and make a small hut by the end of the book.
Two years later…
Finally, they build the Stick Figure State Building. All the sticks do what you do in life. Mostly working, playing, and chilling. Isn’t that obvious?
Well, you see, for the last two years, I’ve been at the end of the book. Readers have not read this book in a while, so I made a creepy forest at the end of the book, so no readers would see me move around. Gladly, there are no speech bubbles that hit my head when I move around. I mean, that’s the most annoying part about comic books.
The best part, yet, is that nobody dares to come in the woods that people now call, the Stickifying Woods. So, in the end, I don’t get what I want, but at least it’s much better than I thought it would be.
… Or maybe. Or it might be the end if the hamsters attack.