Pim Comic Strip

How I came to write Pim
People often ask how I came to write Pim. It seems like a thousand years since I discovered Pim, or that Pim discovered me. Thankfully I kept detailed notes and saved photos from that time. While I can’t swear to the absolute accuracy of what you are about to read, I have done my best to capture the essence of how Pim entered my life.

The Well-Dressed Albatross had run into some old chums and was in fine form. Meanwhile, Mrs. Love was about to make off with the Audi, using a device of her own contrivance to open the door and start the engine.

Mr. Love contacted the employers of the Unmemorable Bank Teller and it was agreed that the now former employee would be best served by permanent residence in a medical facility. Generously, Mr. Love accompanied the Unmemorable Bank Teller there and got him settled.

The Unmemorable Bank Teller was so discombobulated after his call to Mrs. Love, that on stepping out of the phone booth he missed the curb and twisted an ankle. A Good Samaritan—who had just finished attaching a transponder to the Audi parked up the street—came to his aid.

The unmemorable bank teller who’d served the Well-Dressed Albatross had a prior connection with Mrs. Love and recognized her account. As it violated company policy to contact the holder of a numbered account, he’d walked to the only functional pay phone in Glim to contact her.

The withdrawal having been so surprisingly easy, the Well-Dressed Albatross decided to stop for a refreshment before delivering the cash to Mr. Love.

The 17 bags of cash were more than would fit in the briefcase the Well-Dressed Albatross had brought with him. So the bank provided him with an Audi, hoping the gesture would encourage deposits in the future.

Miraculously, the Well-Dressed Albatross gave the correct sequence of digits on his first try. Impressed at meeting an Albatross of such refinement, the officious, if unmemorable, bank-teller immediately actioned his request.

Glim’s only appeal to the world of commerce was that it permitted numbered accounts. Having hacked his mother’s bank information, Mr. Love asked that the Well-Dressed Albatross withdraw all of Mrs. Love’s savings and bring him the cash.

The fine breakfast had done little to alleviate the residue of troubled dreams. Having been given orders he daren’t defy, The Well-Dressed Albatross set out to execute them.

As the Well-Dressed Albatross moved warily from the desk to the elevators, he was accosted by his distinguished nemesis.