|Okay...so yeah, I'm quite far behind at the moment. Being home for Christmas does mean that my time is rather limited. However, I hope to catch up eventually. In the meantime, have a weird Christmas header and some angsting from Marie. Also, Merry Christmas. This is technically the comic for Sunday, December 22nd, but since I'm posting it on December 25th, "Merry Christmas" it is.|
|Sunday, December 22, 2013|
|Christmas Header: The header consists of the following text in cursive on a red background:|
Dear West of Bathurst Readers:
Thank you for your support of this comic. Some of you have been with it since the beginning; others have discovered it more recently. Still others have dropped in and out over the years. Whatever your relationship with WoB, I'm glad you're still with it now, here at the end of all things. No, wait: that's Frodo and Sam in Mordor. It seems that even when I deliberately try to be mushy, I end up making a Lord of the Rings reference, then going off on a tangent. Come to think of it, that's a pretty good description of WoB.
At any rate, as the comic draws rather too slowly but quite inexorably to a close, I feel compelled to make this unusual Christmas header in honour of you guys. All hail the WoB readers! The torture is almost over!
Best of the season, and all that jazz,
P.S.: Shiny object.
Panel 1: In the title panel of this Sunday-style colour comic, Marie and Casey are putting up Christmas lights that spell out "West of Bathurst." Marie is watching Casey, who is facing away from her, his eyes narrowed.
Panel 2: Barbara, Marie, and Rahim sit on Marie's futon. Marie is hugging herself as Rahim puts an arm around her.
Rahim: Are you okay? You've been kind of quiet.
Marie: This is my last Christmas in Toronto. I mean...I'll be gone in a few weeks.
Marie: I...haven't seen Casey since that day in the park. He left me a card, but...
Marie [crying]: What if he's gone? And soon I'll be gone too. And I'll never see him again, and possibly not you either. Everything's changing!
Panel 6: She buries her head in her arms.
Panel 7: Barbara whips some chocolate out of her pocket.
Barbara: I have a Santa Claus made entirely of chocolate.
Marie [reaching out]: It won't help, but give it to me anyway.
Alt-Text: Everything is changing, but chocolate is forever.
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