Artie might have been able to get away with pretending to be a pet that had gotten out. Gerbils are often kept as pets, and have furry tails, which makes them look distinctly different from rats and mice. However, Artie did things the hard way, because he apparently lacked the confidence to do things the easy way, by just waltzing through like Cinnamon did. I guess when Artie is in gerbil form, rodent instincts must take over.
They *know* Artie is a gerbil. If they saw a gerbil walking into the property of the super-intelligent gerbil who can take human form that they’re trying to kill, they’re probably going to assume it’s Artie and kill him.
Artie knows this. Going in openly, even in gerbil form, would be practically suicide.
It may not be safe for Artie to assume this, but there’s a very good chance Anasigma keeps things so compartmentalized that the checkpoint guards won’t be notified of a fugitive they’re looking for.
Ruby ring, three gold coins… Reminds me of the early kid-down-a-well Simpsons where they excavated *around* an ancient flying saucer. Or the MAD marginal of the archaeologist’s test holes that *just* miss the artifacts…
Until today my life was in a rut,
But I was happy with what I’d got,
Not dragged into danger by Helen or Mell,
But now everything is going to hell.
Something’s happening, clear to see,
A show of strength by the Conspiracy,
And I’m not happy, the cat’s not kind,
Suddenly everybody’s gone reality-blind,
They just see a gerbil and not a great mind.
And Anasigma gets what Anasigma wants,
And what they want is nonhumans stopped.
I’m going underground,
(Going underground),
Where the snakes and rats and bugs are found,
Going underground,
(Going underground),
While topside, Cinnamon strolls around,
Getting scritchies.
Some people rub against legs at the gate,
That’s not the response I get from primates,
Some people cross a checkpoint just with purrs,
Me, I’m too busy dodging predators,
What they see is just a desert rat,
They’ll make a meal of me if I don’t scat,
I’ll use my gerbil instincts if I must,
‘Cos superintelligence is sometimes a bust.
And Anasigma gets what Anasigma can,
But I’m the one they’re scared might have a plan.
I’m going underground,
(Going underground),
Where the snakes and rats and bugs are found,
Going underground,
(Going underground),
While topside, Cinnamon strolls around,
Getting scritchies.
I didn’t even think of it as breaking the 4th wall. I very often will turn my head like that when I say something in disgust, and I don’t have a 4th wall to break.
Yes, how unfair of humans to think badly of the animals that would eat their crops in the fields, and get into their granaries and steal and eat some food, and ruin the rest of it by crapping all over it, spreading famine and disease at the same time!
I just can’t imagine why people would prefer cats!
I mean, they’re violent, selfish little assholes! They don’t care about humans at all, they just -accidentally- are tremendously useful to humans because they 1) hunt their own food instead of stealing it from humans, 2) hunt things that the humans don’t eat, so there’s no competition for resources, 3) hunt things that DO steal food from humans, and 4) dig little holes and bury their own turds instead of pooping on literally everything, including themselves and their (stolen) food supplies!
Apparently you’ve never had a feral cat invade your home. They’re riddled with disease, they do steal food, and they do pee and poop all over everything, plus ralphing up hairballs and half-eaten chipmunks on the hood of your car.
At least rodent poop is tiny and easy to clean up, and doesn’t make everything reek to high heaven.
Our current cat is an ex-feral cat. We got him to eat outside…then in the garage…then in the house…and then, after about a year, he was rubbing against us and sitting on laps. You gotta be patient…and, probably, it helps if the cat is young…
We have an ex-feral cat. He’s been around our place for about 5 years now. Our indoor/outdoor cat brought him home for dinner one night, bless her little innocent heart. We endured two years of him crapping wherever he felt like (mostly in the garage). He’ll actually come up to me and ask to be petted now, although he won’t let me pick him up. He still isn’t domesticated enough to come in the house, but thankfully he at least buries his poop now.
Years ago I was sitting on the front stairs of the house converted to apartments down the street from where I worked when a huge grey cat walked up and sat down next to me. We quietly watched cars go by for a while until he remembered better things he had to do and continued on his way.
Over the next few months I’d see him roaming the neighborhood (occasionally with a bird in his mouth) and came to think of him as “Sir Tom” because he seemed a gallant fellow. He’d sit beside me and eventually let me pet him but never accepted my invitation to come inside.
The neighborhood bullies would throw rocks at him. When I moved away I called a cat rescue organization who lent me a cage to put him in. Next time he came around I scooped him up (at great cost to my hands!) and tossed him in.
I asked about him later and they’d had him neutered and put on display in a glass case at a pet store, he was such an elegant cat. I like to think some little girl adopted him and taught him to play dress-up with bonnets.
“Everybody wants to be a cat…”
Everybody wants to be a feline pet.
“Because a cat’s the only cat who knows where it’s at.”
“I Strut right by with my tail in the air!” – B. Setzer
Apropos, Foradain.
Artie might have been able to get away with pretending to be a pet that had gotten out. Gerbils are often kept as pets, and have furry tails, which makes them look distinctly different from rats and mice. However, Artie did things the hard way, because he apparently lacked the confidence to do things the easy way, by just waltzing through like Cinnamon did. I guess when Artie is in gerbil form, rodent instincts must take over.
They *know* Artie is a gerbil. If they saw a gerbil walking into the property of the super-intelligent gerbil who can take human form that they’re trying to kill, they’re probably going to assume it’s Artie and kill him.
Artie knows this. Going in openly, even in gerbil form, would be practically suicide.
It may not be safe for Artie to assume this, but there’s a very good chance Anasigma keeps things so compartmentalized that the checkpoint guards won’t be notified of a fugitive they’re looking for.
I suppose Cinnamon could have helped Artie get by a checkpoint. As, you know, a cat’s “present”. But it might have hurt a lot.
Plus, well, Cinnamon might be an ally, but there’s a limit to how far you can trust a cat.
Ruby ring, three gold coins… Reminds me of the early kid-down-a-well Simpsons where they excavated *around* an ancient flying saucer. Or the MAD marginal of the archaeologist’s test holes that *just* miss the artifacts…
Triple Doubloons!
That’s one annoyed looking rat!
Why not? All these gerbils at invading it’s warren.
He knows this is a food source he can’t eat
He’s neither giant nor enlightened.
…took me a while to unearth that reference from the memory banks.
Really? It hasn’t been that long since we last saw him.
…hmmm, must’ve missed that one.
Tune: Going Underground, The Jam
Until today my life was in a rut,
But I was happy with what I’d got,
Not dragged into danger by Helen or Mell,
But now everything is going to hell.
Something’s happening, clear to see,
A show of strength by the Conspiracy,
And I’m not happy, the cat’s not kind,
Suddenly everybody’s gone reality-blind,
They just see a gerbil and not a great mind.
And Anasigma gets what Anasigma wants,
And what they want is nonhumans stopped.
I’m going underground,
(Going underground),
Where the snakes and rats and bugs are found,
Going underground,
(Going underground),
While topside, Cinnamon strolls around,
Getting scritchies.
Some people rub against legs at the gate,
That’s not the response I get from primates,
Some people cross a checkpoint just with purrs,
Me, I’m too busy dodging predators,
What they see is just a desert rat,
They’ll make a meal of me if I don’t scat,
I’ll use my gerbil instincts if I must,
‘Cos superintelligence is sometimes a bust.
And Anasigma gets what Anasigma can,
But I’m the one they’re scared might have a plan.
I’m going underground,
(Going underground),
Where the snakes and rats and bugs are found,
Going underground,
(Going underground),
While topside, Cinnamon strolls around,
Getting scritchies.
Crud, I missed out two lines in the second verse.
It’s a very complicated song.
‘Taint as easy as it looks.
Well, Artie could revert to his other form and rub against them and purr. You never know…
And there weren’t any power-ups, either.
Artie appears to have two tails in the last panel.
Maybe he picked up a friend along the way?
I was more amused by the breaking of the 4th wall.
I didn’t even think of it as breaking the 4th wall. I very often will turn my head like that when I say something in disgust, and I don’t have a 4th wall to break.
Don’t you, Awgiedawgie? Are you sure? 😉
Maybe I do, and I just don’t realize that I’m actually part of a comic strip myself…
“Being a rodent is just plain unfair!”
Yes, how unfair of humans to think badly of the animals that would eat their crops in the fields, and get into their granaries and steal and eat some food, and ruin the rest of it by crapping all over it, spreading famine and disease at the same time!
I just can’t imagine why people would prefer cats!
I mean, they’re violent, selfish little assholes! They don’t care about humans at all, they just -accidentally- are tremendously useful to humans because they 1) hunt their own food instead of stealing it from humans, 2) hunt things that the humans don’t eat, so there’s no competition for resources, 3) hunt things that DO steal food from humans, and 4) dig little holes and bury their own turds instead of pooping on literally everything, including themselves and their (stolen) food supplies!
It’s just not fair!
Apparently you’ve never had a feral cat invade your home. They’re riddled with disease, they do steal food, and they do pee and poop all over everything, plus ralphing up hairballs and half-eaten chipmunks on the hood of your car.
At least rodent poop is tiny and easy to clean up, and doesn’t make everything reek to high heaven.
Our current cat is an ex-feral cat. We got him to eat outside…then in the garage…then in the house…and then, after about a year, he was rubbing against us and sitting on laps. You gotta be patient…and, probably, it helps if the cat is young…
We have an ex-feral cat. He’s been around our place for about 5 years now. Our indoor/outdoor cat brought him home for dinner one night, bless her little innocent heart. We endured two years of him crapping wherever he felt like (mostly in the garage). He’ll actually come up to me and ask to be petted now, although he won’t let me pick him up. He still isn’t domesticated enough to come in the house, but thankfully he at least buries his poop now.
We can’t pick ours up, either. But he loves to sit on my mother’s lap. Mine a couple of times, but he’s not as thrilled by it.
Years ago I was sitting on the front stairs of the house converted to apartments down the street from where I worked when a huge grey cat walked up and sat down next to me. We quietly watched cars go by for a while until he remembered better things he had to do and continued on his way.
Over the next few months I’d see him roaming the neighborhood (occasionally with a bird in his mouth) and came to think of him as “Sir Tom” because he seemed a gallant fellow. He’d sit beside me and eventually let me pet him but never accepted my invitation to come inside.
The neighborhood bullies would throw rocks at him. When I moved away I called a cat rescue organization who lent me a cage to put him in. Next time he came around I scooped him up (at great cost to my hands!) and tossed him in.
I asked about him later and they’d had him neutered and put on display in a glass case at a pet store, he was such an elegant cat. I like to think some little girl adopted him and taught him to play dress-up with bonnets.
to me that It occurs Cinnamon might have gone the rooftop route and given Artie a lift, but a gerbil riding a cat would be a dead giveaway if spotted.