Every day this week, as I scroll my way through my Houston Chronicle custom comics page and get close to the Cs, I’ve thought to myself, “Surely — surely — today’s Crankshaft will not once again feature Jeff and Pam sitting in a hospital room, fondly repeating Crankshaft’s terrible pun-like utterances, while the ’Shaft himself lies nearby in an opiate-induced stupor.” Yet day after day, that is exactly what I find. You know how sometimes sitcoms have clip shows, where they save money by filming a few minutes of new material as a framing device around flashbacks to previous episodes? Well, at least those shows have the decency to show you the clips. This is the equivalent of a sitcom where the characters just sit around a room and say, “Hey, remember that time when something hilarious happened?” and then describe it. Oh, and also, it isn’t hilarious.
Since it’s rare to see Crankshaft wholly silent and motionless for four days in a row, I began to wonder if maybe he had died, of shame, after hearing all his terrible malapropisms repeated back to him. But then I remembered that he has no shame. He still might have died of an intestinal blockage, though.
Oh, sassy Spider-Man narration box, you never disappoint! So, in what ironic way will Aunt May be treated like a queen? Will she be beheaded in front of a jeering mob for her crimes agains the poor? Will she be forced to marry a perfect stranger in order cement an alliance between her land and a neighboring kingdom? Will her theater experience be ruined by peasants begging her to lay hands on them and cure their scrofula?
Pluggers know that there’s no better revenge on your never-calling, never-visiting, never-thank-you-note-writing, rap-music-blaring grandchildren than a loving and detailed description of your sex life.