Kerzemaid

Finally wrapped up December's Lesser Legend. I'd actually ended up drawing her three times before coming up with an illustration (and way of handling the Christmas lights) that I was happy with. I'll hopefully get February's Legend up in the next week or so.

The wandering, ethereal Kerzemaid,
with her candle-covered crown,
though she is unapproachable,
you may spy her on the edge of town.

When the nights are darkest,
and snow is in the air,
she illuminates the deepest woods,
wax running through her hair.

But in recent years this maiden,
she has quite often found,
that her candles are inadequate,
with all the Christmas lights around.

But rather than be defeated,
she will only be made stronger,
the Kerzemaid now has lights of her own

...if only the cord was a little longer.

Also, if you haven't already, I highly suggest you head over to the Bureau of Drawer's blog, and download the first volume of our new, quarterly e-publication. I wasn't able to participate, because of the usual list of excuses, but I think that everyone else did an excellent job, and it's already received favorable write-ups from sources as varied as The Strangers' Slog and Comic Book Resource. Check it out!

Bagbog

This is actually January's "Lesser Legend." I'm redrawing December's, and she'll be along shortly (hopefully).



Some beasts want to eat children,
others take the old,
some feast on the feeble,
and others on the bold.

Some monsters sink mighty cruise ships,
and others burn down towns,
still others laugh and cackle,
and look like malevolent clowns.

Some phantoms lurk under beds,
and others in the woods,
some rob you at knife point,
and make off with your goods.

The worst creatures like to cause pain,
in your joints or in your head,
that’s often much, much crueler
than the ones that make you dead.

But not the shaggy Bagbog,
though as fearsome at its seems,
it does not wish to hurt you,
it has much nicer schemes.

It simply wants your old toys,
forgotten for the new,
it wants to love and care for them,
and watch over them for you.

When I was little, I was one of those kids that got really upset and stressed out when I realized that one of my toy's had gone missing. I think the Bagbog is my attempt to come to grips with that. Much nicer to think that my toy is out there being loved and played with by some benevolent beast.

The Gobbler

The second in what I'm planning (read: hoping) will be a 12-part series, the Pumpkin Smasher Basher being the first. These Lesser Legends are a group of seasonal characters who live in the shadows of the Big Guys, like Santa and the Easter Bunny.

And, the poem to go with him:

Gobble, gobble, gobble
On that first Thanksgiving day,
when the Puritans and Indians
did bow their heads to pray;
One ungrateful fellow claimed
he had nothing to be thankful for,
Oh, turkey and gravy he did not like
and even cornucopias were a bore.

Gobble, gobble, gobble
This did not go over well,
and either a witch or wise man
cast a nasty spell;
He grew a beak, could no longer speak
and with feathers from his back,
he was not forever hungry
if only for a snack.

Gobble, gobble, gobble
If it’s your next Thanksgiving meal,
and your favorite course goes a missing,
then the Gobbler’s made his steal;
He lurks and hides in cupboards,
or under the kitchen sink
and hopes to make off with
a little stolen food and drink.

Gobble, gobble, gobble
So let this be a lesson to you and you
best be thankful on Thankgiving,
or the Gobbler will
EAT YOU TOO!

The Pumpkin Smasher Basher

Here's the illustration that I did for the Bureau's Annual Halloween Show at Cafe Racer. This year's theme was "Bad Omens," but I ended up having an idea jump into my head sort of last minute and had to get it out on paper.

Even in my teen years, I never really understood what the appeal of pumpkin smashing was. Taking things that other people (often children, or their parents) cared for and smashing it out of some sort of sense of misdirected rebellion. So, I was amused by the idea of creating a mythical character called the Pumpkin Smasher Basher: A giant pumpkin-headed monster who sneaks up behind pumpkin-smashing youth and -in turn- bashes them of the head with a giant wooden hammer. The poem I wrote to go along with him goes like this:

The Pumpkin Smasher Basher
is a naughty sort of beast,
He sneaks up behind bad children
when they are expecting it the least.

He’s a protector of all pumpkins
and Jack-O-Lanterns too,
He likes to surprise the children
and not just with a “Boo!”

When they lift the pumpkins
to smash them on the ground,
they best check behind themselves
or the Basher’s hammer will go... POUND!

Anyhow, I like the idea, and hope he ends up standing proudly next to the Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny.