Manea spent two panels just waiting to tell everybody about the sloths.
I’m frickin’ sick, imaginary readers, and I’ve had the revelation that laying in bed for two days is a real good way to get depressed.
At one point, I was too out of it to read. How am I supposed to deal with my body betraying me without escapism, imaginary readers!? Riddle me that.
I guess what I’m saying is, if the comic suddenly gets terrible, it’s because I’m feverish.
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