Beaten and alone, a child dies. But Jesus cares.
He doesn’t care enough to keep the kid from getting beaten to death, I guess. Hell, I’d stop a kid from getting beaten to death, and I’m just a regular ol’ human.
A particularly depressing, ugly turd of a Tract. Way to go, Jack!
That’s not a somebody, that’s a flower. Get a real friend.
Lightning crashes, a new mother cries. Her placenta falls to the floor.
Man, Wario’s home life is really fuckin’ bleak.
He’s so drunk that he’s not even actually hiccuping but rather thinking about hiccuping.
So, why striped puddles?
“Talk to the hand, kid. The extremely-unnaturally-bent-to-a-90-degree-angle-and-twisted-grotesquely-behind-my-back hand.” Seriously, try doing that. It hurts.
The lightning’s so goofy and cartoonish it’s like it’s not even real lightning but a plane flying overhead carrying a bunch of The Flash memorabilia and having to drop some of it because they’re running out of fuel.
Also, there don’t appear to be any segments in the roads or sidewalks. It’s like everyone’s walking around on the same huge slab of concrete.
Which I guess all creates a setting that fits well with the entirely unrealistic premise as well: A tiny lone child standing in the rain without any shoes and very little clothing begging for money, and not a single person finds that at all suspicious or troubling. “Should I call the police or maybe child protective services? Nah, I don’t want to get my cell phone wet.”
It appears to be only a penny with its “1¢” marking, but its gravity-defying properties make it worth millions.
More inexplicably striped puddles for some reason. It’s like someone steamrolled a tabby cat.
The building behind the kid looks like just one big concrete slab as well. Maybe they should stop striping their puddles and use some of it to decorate the formless shapes that make up the nightmarishly bland cityscape around them.
The same lightning bolt from the first panel is still there, just hanging around.
I like how even the hills here look like big lumps of concrete.
Oh wait, that’s not Wario at all — it’s Ian McShane! (And now I want to see a live-action Wario movie starring Ian McShane. Dammit, Chick!)
Even the palm of his hand is a near-featureless concrete slab.
“I’m so mad I put on my lion wig! And you know what that means!”
You know, if he returned a few of the bottles lying around the place or even brought them to a recycling center he’d get a lot more than a penny.
Then again, his long-term business plan seems to be to send his apparent only means of income (his begging child) out into the rain to catch hypothermia for a penny, so it’s not like he’s a brilliant financial strategist or anything.
“Check it out — I pooped this!” “NO WAAAY!”
(Cue Yakety Sax…)
Another ideated-but-not-actually-expressed “hic”, for some reason. I don’t know, maybe the father is supposed to be thinking that the kid is a “hick” but Jack didn’t know how to spell it?
He’s hitting the kid so hard he’s glowing. Stick must be irradiated or something.
You moron — you’re supposed to put the siding on the outside of the house!
Okay, so I was wrong: His financial strategy is actually to beat his child to death.
The stick is bloody but the kid isn’t. ‘Cause that’d be too violent, I guess.
Same lightning bolt, just hanging around watching the whole thing play out. “Holy crap! If I could use a phone without completely frying its circuits I’d call the police!”
The only objects in this house are bottles, a cup, a penny, a table, a shot glass and a cudgel. Here’s a tip for all you kids who might be reading this: If those are the only items in your home, run the fuck away.
“Well, at least I landed on dad’s lion wig.”
Lightning bolt comes over all “Dude! Dude, holy shit! Are… are you okay? Should I… should I try to get someone or something?”
Another flattened tabby cat, for some reason.
Lightning bolt: “Okay, well, I’m gonna go try to get an ambulance for you but I’ll probably just end up electrocuting a bunch of people. Wish me luck!”
This is where someone tried to make a sidewalk on the giant concrete slab, but got about ten feet and decided “fuck it”.
More flattened striped animals.
And our premise gets even less believable: “Oh, hey, that kid looks like it’s either really sick or really hurt or maybe on some kind of bender. But you know, I’m sure they’ve got everything worked out. Not my concern!”
And now there’s a woman standing behind the kid just repeatedly kicking him. Come on, Jack — people can be cruel, sure, but usually not that cruel.
Ah, I can see now why they flatten all the animals. Look at those fucking things. Gyah.
Why didn’t the kid just move here in the first place? Oh, right, because children are supposed to unquestionably “honor [their] father[s] and mother[s]”. Had he run away instead of getting beaten and kicked out, then it would’ve been a sin!
I’m a leaf on the wind… I’m a leaf on the wind… I’m a leaf on the wind…
This sort of feels like Jack trying to make himself and his followers feel good about people throwing their pamphlets and tracts away or on the floor or whatever whenever they hand them out. “No no, see, it’s great that everyone just throws our pamphlets away! That way they can blow in the wind and maybe end up in the hands of people who really need them!”
So the sound of a piece of paper blowing against the side of a wood crate is enough to wake him up. “Whoa, did someone just touch a q-tip to a cotton ball? Ow, my ears!”
Yeah, no point expending the negligible amount of effort required to get out of or onto the crate to sit up — just squeeze yourself with it by lodging yourself inside in an obviously uncomfortable fashion that crushes the top of your already bruised and beaten skull. Good job, kid!
This girl is the only person who even notices him. Is this some kind of horrible future where humans have evolved to only see within three feet of their heads? Anything below about thigh level is invisible?
And considering how apathetic and awful everyone in this city seems to be, should a young girl be walking through an alleyway alone?
So did she say “JESUS LOVES YOU!” or did that just sort of… blast out from thin air or something? It’s not in a speech bubble or anything.
He’s still giving off radiation from that beating he took earlier.
…but the concept is meaningless. How does he even know who Jesus is? She could’ve said “LARRY LOVES YOU!” or “EGON LOVES YOU!” or “TODD LOVES CARROTS!” and it’d have just as much significance.
I mean, what Jack is saying here, basically, is that you only have to accept the name. You don’t even have to know anything about Jesus, as long as you accept “Jesus”. Which isn’t too far a stretch, I guess, from the frequently-used message that regardless of how awful or good a life you’ve lived all you have to do is accept Jesus in the very last moments of it and you’ll be a-okay. Fuck actual meaning, right? Just say the magic word, even if you don’t know its definition!
And it turns out it was POISONED! 😮
Does anyone else see the dog hidden on the side of the crate?
“Welp, this looks like as good a place as any to throw up. *urrgkk* Oh wait, there’s a dead kid in here. Sorry, kid.”
And suddenly he’s a toddler.
Man, it’s a good thing the kid got the shit beaten out of him and then kicked out of his house by his abusive asshole of a father, huh? Otherwise he’d never have found THE LORD!