Tati & Tony: Rock ‘n’ Roll Creatives!

Любий читаче, ти розумієш це речення?* If so, you’re in luck!

Intrigued? Details a smidge later, but first things first…

For the past five years, Tony has been faithfully writing and drawing the webcomic Crumble Cult, the existential adventures of Ernest Crumb, a professional fucker-upper of life. No one fucks up quite like he does! Tati joined this creative project about two years ago, and sincerely hopes that she hasn’t spoiled things.

Recently, Tony has gone back into the archive to give earlier strips in the series a bit of spit and polish. No longer satisfied with the original text’s aesthetic, he’s painstakingly updated it to be more reader friendly. Yes, that means you, dear reader! Your comfort matters!

By the way, do you know how many strips Tony has produced so far? Button would say, “One, two… twenty-gazillion!” But let’s be realistic—it’s substantially less than twenty-gazillion, but way more than one or two. Let’s just say it’s enough to fill two or three volumes of a book series which is exactly what Tati and Tony are currently working on behind the scenes!

But even that isn’t enough for this crazy international duo! Tati has also been working her trilingual ass off to bring you a Ukrainian version of the strip. Yes, that’s right! Soon you’ll be able to read a whole book of comics that have been translated into Ukrainian, so please do look forward to that!

И конечно, мы не забыли о великом и могучем’.** The Russian version won’t be long in coming.

And, if that isn’t enough, there’s also Tati’s and Tony’s Patreon page to check out! That’s where they cover their creative process in more detail. You can thrill to their behind-the-scenes misadventures until your eyes bleed in protest. What fun! (Oops. It seems they’ve been caught red handed! It’s another brazen attempt to lure you to their Patreon page and divest you, dear reader, of your hard earned cash. How naughty!)

Anyhow, it’s best not to overthink all of this. Suffice it to say that Tati and Tony can play the fools all they want… but facts remain facts. They’re preparing a comic collection. It will be in three languages. It will rock. And they’re deadly serious about fulfilling all of their plans. Just you watch!

*Dear reader, do you understand this sentence?
**And of course, we did not forget about the ‘great and mighty [Russian language]’.

 

by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2017

Teti-à-Tête (With Tony) #7

crumble-cult-210

Tati as TATI

crumble-cult-106

Tony as TONY

 

ACT 10 SCENE 2
THROUGH THE BLOWING HOLE

 

Tony comes into the room with a sad face.

TONY: I have news.

Tati blows soap bubbles from a little bubble wand.

TONY: Actually, it’s two pieces of news. Which first? Do you want the good news or the bad news?

TATI: Start with the good.

TONY: Okay, well… Ray gave Mooreeffoc five stars and wrote a brilliant review.

Tati continues to blow bubbles. It looks like she’s trying to get a very big one, but it bursts every time. Tony looks quite annoyed.

TONY: Tati?

TATI: Yes, I’ve heard.

She continues to blow. When another bubble bursts, she says crossly…

TATI: So, shoot! Give me your bad news!

TONY: Ray then gave One Pulse one star and wrote a… well, less brilliant review.

Tati has switched tactics now. She’s begun to blow as many small bubbles as possible.

TATI: Yes, I got you the first time. What’s the bad news?

Tony looks embarrassed. The bubbles have begun clinging to his head. He now looks like Bozo the Clown with frothy hair.

TONY: Five stars. One star. Good news. Bad news. I guess it’s all the same to you, huh?

TATI: If we want only five star reviews, we should ask our moms to write them.

TONY: But don’t we want that? Five star reviews make us look good, and hopefully we sell more copies that way.

TATI: Dunderhead! Every opinion counts! Even the ones we prefer to forget. How else can we improve?

Tati looks musingly at all the bubbles floating around.

TATI: And no one can accuse us that all our reviews are written by friends and family members. Sycophants!

Tati’s gaze settles on Tony and his ridiculous clown hair.

TATI: By the way, you need more shampoo.

She holds up an empty shampoo bottle and wiggles it in Tony’s face.

Tony tries to speak, but only bubbles come from his mouth. Each one floats towards Tati and pops, revealing a letter. They spell out…

W. T. F.

 

by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2017

Christ Pisses His Life Away (Chapter Three)

1 If any of this ever gets written down then I hope they get their facts straight.

2 How long have I been hanging here for? 3 Damn, it’s hot. And my bladder’s on fire. I’m in agony and I can’t scratch myself. 4 When the legionnaires offered to put me up for the night, I didn’t think they quite meant like this. 5 It’s small wonder that I hate wedding banquets now!

6 Bottomless throats. Sateless stomachs. I had no chance. 7 Who could meet that kind of demand? No one, that’s who. 8 None of them could have cared less for the happiness of newly marrieds. All they wanted was a holiday in Cana to brown the brow, and round after round of my patented Holy Spirit to fill their swollen bellies. 9 Self righteous, narcissistic guzzlers of dwindling decorum. Every last one of them!

10 I guess it’s my own fault really. 11 Maybe I shouldn’t have pressed my apostles to water down the whizz, but by god was my tallywacker beat! It was ready to gasp its last, you could say. 12 How many baths did I manage to fill? Who knows? 13 All I do know is my bladder’s as pulverised as a palm frond after a locust convention.

14 And Judas… What the hell, Judas?! What were you thinking? 15 You know you can’t hold your liquor, so why did you drink the merchandise? 16 ‘But whosoever drinketh of the water that I willst giveth unto him shallst never thirst!’ you declared. And you declared it to the whole damn gathering! 17 ‘But the water that I willst giveth unto him willst becometh in him a well of water springing up to eternal life!’ 18 And then you pissed all over the High Priests. Marvellous. Just marvellous. 19 I can’t take you anywhere. I should have left you out the back to calculate our profit margin.

20 And that’s the problem, isn’t it, Mr Iscariot? You play well with numbers, but not with other human beings. 21 Yes, reading ledgers is an important skill, but so is being able to read facial expressions, you sot! Could you not see how livid they were? Utterly hopeless!

22 And why, oh why, did I let you spread those rumours about my so-called ‘miracles’? 23 ‘This will drum up more business,’ you said. ‘More clientele means more tongues at the tap,’ you said. 24 So you had me walking on water, feeding multitudes with a fish finger and two breadsticks, raising people from the dead, and erecting underwater bridges for molluscs fleeing Jewish persecution. 25 Lie upon lie upon lie upon… well, that last one was just plain weird.

26 Dying is not fun. 27 I think I’m dying. Am I dying? Is this what that feels like? 28 I know how to pass water but I’ve not experienced passing from life before, so I can’t definitively say. I don’t think I want to. 29 Still, I keep passing out, so I’m disconcertingly aware of my own mortality. That cannot augur well for my immediate future. 30 Death. Can’t say I’d recommend it.

31 The pain is shocking in its unrelenting intensity. My entire body’s a buzzing mess. 32 How can there possibly be this much blood? I can’t breathe. 33 The tirade I’ve composed in my head escapes as a truncated wheeze. ‘Thanks for nothing,’ is literally all I can muster. 34 Yes, God, thanks for nothing. Just sit there like you always do, and do nothing.

35 First, my carpentry business folds. 36 Then I discover that I can piss wine. 37 Then some opportunistic, money-grubbing ‘followers’ come along and exploit me for all they can get. 38 This involves a clever marketing campaign that promises the public magic shenanigans and quaff-worthy wazz while they’re being entertained. 39 I become said public’s darling. 39 Judas then goes and defiles some elite, paying customers with his own subpar wee while they’re drinking my diluted wee, 40 and then flees with the rest of the apostates at the first sign of trouble. 41 That’s when said public breaks up with me, and the High Priests begin baying for blood instead of my formerly one hundred percent honeyed liquid. 42 What next? Oh, that’s right. Death. Praise Elohim. 43 I’m of a mind to come back and haunt the bastards.

44 I rue the day my pecker piddled on Peter. Sorry. Simon.

by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2017

Christ Pisses His Life Away (Chapter Two)

1 How is it that I can heal, but not make them shut up…

2 ‘Peter! Look! He’s waking!’

3 ‘My name isn’t Peter. Why do you keep calling me Peter? I’m Simon!’

4 ‘No, dude. I’m Simon. You’re Peter.’

5 ‘No, I’m jolly not!’

6 ‘Hey, man. Chill! 7 We can’t both be called Simon. Otherwise we’d be Simon and Simon. 8 How would that work?’

9 ‘Then why don’t you change your name? Pick something else you like.’

10 ‘I like Simon!’

11 Oh, great. I think I may have come to in a storm water drain. It’s not the most dignified way to greet a new day. 12 I stir, the muck and piss swirling around me, it adding shame to the pounding behind my eyes. 13 Ugh! I feel like carpenters have set up shop in my forehead, 14 and my mouth feels like a donkey’s arse.

15 I murmur, ‘Shut up, will you? You both are bleating like old nanny goats!’ 16 They look at me, shocked, but I don’t care. 17 ‘You do realise it’s possible for people to share the same name, don’t you?’

18 The second Simon looks at the first Simon with the expression of a goat that’s been goosed mid chew.

19 ‘Hm. I suppose so,’ says the second Simon grudgingly.

20 ‘Yeah…’ allows the first Simon. ‘Check out Judas and Judas. I guess they cohabit just fine.’

21 ‘I’m Jude, you dingbats. JUDE. It’s not the same thing at all!’

22 ‘I thought you were called Thaddaeus.’

23 ‘Shut up, Iscariot.’

24 Oh my god! Why do they go on like this all the time? It’s like they can’t help themselves. Maddening! 25 Did I really hire this bunch of simpletons? I must have been drunk! 26 Oh, that’s right. I was drunk…

27 ‘Don’t tell me to freaking shut up, you great protruding camel toe!’

28 ‘I think you need some knuckle bread! Shall I give it to you?’

29 ‘I freaking dare you to give it to me!’

30 Oh, isn’t this just fabulous. 31 They look like they’re almost ready to fight. Always with the fighting! 32 At least I know what can be done to soothe them. I sigh. I get to my feet. I unzip my pants.

33 ‘Elohim be praised!’ gasps Bartholomew. He’s always gasping over stuff. He’s a gasp whore. He’ll gasp over clipped toenails if you give him half a chance. 34 ‘Jesus is about to make more wine! Thank you, O Master!’

35 ‘Yes! Share with us your Holy Spirit!’ chimes Philip.

36 These self-titled ‘apostles’ crowd around me, hands cupped and reaching. All twenty-four of them! 37 God, did they double overnight? It’s getting weird around here.

38 ‘Hey, you know what?’ says Matthew, a considered look on his face. ‘We should market this. People would lap it up!’

39 How like a tax collector. Always trying to monetise everything.

 

by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2017

Christ Pisses His Life Away (Chapter One)

1 I hate everything.

2 I’m standing here with a banging headache, pissing into an open storm water drain. Yes, we have those, even though it never rains here. 3 Actually, that’s not strictly true. It’s raining right now. Does not my amber stream arc so brilliantly in the sunlight? 4 And am I not doubled over with a sudden fit of the giggles at this? Oh, how pretty! 5 Oh, goddam. Shit. My head!

6 So, I’m trying to draw with some extra twirls. 7 And then I gaze with admiration at the acheiropoietic image I’ve made on the wall. 8 I’m so engrossed in this urine street art that I don’t notice an old tatterdemalion who happened to be sitting right in the line of fire. 9 Well, I notice now. He’s soaked, and he stinks. 10 I’m debating whether or not to apologise to the old dero. 11 And why am I still able to use big words like acheiropoietic and tatterdemalion when I’m clearly pissed?

12 God. Questions without answers. Life’s full of them. 13 Like, why is my carpentry business failing? No one wants to buy stools around here. 14 Am I expecting too much? 15 To have people want stools instead of parking their cheap arses on the ground with the donkeys’ own stools?

16 ‘Tasty! Splash some more down here, dude!’

17 Okay. 18 It seems my moral dilemma has resolved itself and that miracles do happen after all. 19 Praise… Elohim? Is that what I’m supposed to say at this juncture? 20 Here in the mud and the piss and animal shit, I’m wondering why someone would deliberately want to gargle down my number ones. Maybe it’s a fetish. 21 The man puts out his hand, then changes his mind and holds out an alms box instead. 22 But my bladder is empty now, so I give him an apologetic shrug instead. 23 His look of expectation sours.

24 ‘What good are you then?’

 

by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2017