As Pim and Bim had just launched their own tango school they were taking the same marketing course as Ukifune. The instructor had drawn a demand curve on the chalkboard and was providing an exhaustive analysis.
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.
To boost cookie sales Ukifune enrolled in a marketing course in lower Manhattan. Hotels being expensive and resourceful girl guide that she was, she pitched a tent on a Canal Street rooftop from which, nightly, she observed a winged figure perched across the alley.
Pim and Bim have stepped aside from their publishing concern and resumed their tango lessons. Of an evening it is common for them to spot Mr. Love circling the darkness on, as yet, uncertain wings.
Centuries hence, on the dusty shelf of a darkened alcove in the Château Michel de Montaigne, a bibliophile will come upon a tome whose spine and title page are naked but for the cryptic logo of a forgotten publisher.
Despite the fact that Pim and Bim neglected to invite anyone to the book launch, a reasonable number showed up by accident.
The Well-Dressed Albatross hadn’t titled his work, and Pim and Bim didn’t know the Well-Dressed Albatross’s name, so the book came out with nothing on the cover to identify it. For reasons I honestly can’t explain, it didn’t occur to Pim and Bim to print more than one copy.
Fortuitously Pim and Bim had just initiated a publishing concern, and were thrilled at the prospect of meeting an author.
The Well-Dressed Albatross completed his epic poem, which explained the universe and everything else. No longer able to fly he sought a publisher by train, settling into a lounge car populated by men engrossed in continental newspapers.
Once fitted with albatross wings, Mrs. Love launched Mr. Love Icaruslike towards the sun. Unlike Icarus, the wings held firm and commingled him with a flight of dark angels, whose stories were not so different from his own.
To escape Mr. Love, Mr. Love Jr. had moved to Quanahuac and bought the Teatro Morelos. Arriving into a pandemic that prevented him from ordering new films, he was forced–night after night–to screen the only film the theatre owned: the wretched ‘Las Manos de Orlac.’