Charlie Branaski


That’s
Peanuts, by Charles Bukowski

The dog finished his supper and disappeared into the doghouse. A minute later, he walked out wearing a leather jacket and dark glasses and padded right past Branaski and out the gate.

“You ungrateful son of a bitch. I oughta let you starve.”

Thanks to Ed Boucher for this.

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GriddleOctopus

There are few harder things in life than introducing yourself, especially in print where mellifluous nuance can turn to indulgent wankery. So. I am definitely a 'writer'. You could also call me an 'artist'. I could probably put the words 'designer' and 'consultant' here too, but they feel crass.

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