As you may have noticed, a hurricane didn't kill me yesterday. I will celebrate my continued life with some ice cream this afternoon. - Brian Clevinger

I ate soup from a bowl made of bread. This is the kind of heady decadance that will be detailed in the webcomic history books. My decline into soupy madness will be but a footnote of the 8BT story, itself a footnote. But the bread, man. You can eat your soup, and then eat the bowl. There's no turning back now. A decent life in the light of, uh, decency is behind me. Now it's wall-to-wall bread bowls and hookers.

Florida weather is like living with a schizophreniac. Its mood is a fractured thing; it believes in real and unreal circumstances equally; and you're never quite sure if it'll come through with its share of the rent.

(referring to a broken sign displayed at a fireworks stand)"It says FIRE ORKS. And the arrow on this particular sign points down a twisting dirt road that is quickly engulfed in a darkened forest. I really need to get around to vandalizing that sign. Maybe adding something like "This way lies doom" to the bottom."