Already a week into drawing cartoons, and I have hit a brick wall. It’s strange, but art hates hesitation. For instance, I have been drawing with a pencil, so that I can use an eraser to fix my mistakes. As a result, I think my drawings have been crappy. I don’t like them. I usually draw with a pen for myself, and I like my drawings. I think that the knowledge that if I make a mistake, I’m forced to live with it allows a greater portion of personality and quirkiness to seep into my cartoons. As a result, I am here to tell you that my drawings from here and into the future will be done with a ballpoint pen, and if you don’t like the imperfections, please believe me when I tell you, that it’s better off this way.
Thanks for reading! -BW
As the digital clock transitioned to 7:00 am, Tannenbaum stirred in his motel bed and arose, without a sound, and without an alarm. If an impartial observer had been watching, they may have made the mistake that he is a clockworks man. Don’t be fooled. If Tannenbaum could have his choice, he would pick to be a positronic android. Like in Star Trek, but much more advanced, and without the nostalgic desire to be human.
Tannenbaum quickly collected his things, put his bags in a rental car, and drove out of the parking lot by 7:05.
He did not drive aimlessly, or give any attention to the surroundings aside from their merit as driving obstacles. He had a specific and definite destination in mind, and he directed the car unswervingly without hesitation or second thoughts. If you knew what he was doing, Tannenbaum was a terrifying man to watch.
The rental car parked in the parking lot adjacent to the Dade county jail. Tannenbaum walked inside, allowed himself to be searched, and asked to see the sheriff, a man by the name of James Cook.
James Cook met Tannenbaum in his office. The sheriff was a man of average height, average build, and what little remained of his hair was run over with the color gray.
“Hello, Mr. Tannenbaum.” he said, standing up from his desk and extending his hand to Tannenbaum, who shook it. “I’ve received word from your friend, a Mr. David Marcus. I understand that you have an interest in a Mr. Warren Lennard?”
“Yes.” Tannenbaum answered. “This may be irregular, but I wonder if I could pay his bail.”
Sheriff Cook shook his head.
“That won’t be necessary. He was picked up on a simple vagrancy charge. We’re releasing him this morning.”
Tannenbaum appeared to be confused.
“You’re releasing him?”
“Haven’t you run his record through your system?” Tannenbaum asked.
“Yes, we have. There were a few complications . . .”
Tannenbaum interrupted him.
“I don’t understand. If you have run his file through your systems, then you can’t possibly be releasing him. Don’t you understand who he is?”
Cook smiled an odd smile, like a boy would smile when he finds someone who has no knowledge of stickball.
“I think it would be best, and most easily explained, if I introduced the man himself to you.” Sheriff Cook said. He escorted Tannenbaum out of his office and to the foyer of the county jail, where he asked for Warren Lennard to be released.
Immediately, an officer came into the foyer from a locked room, bringing with him a young man carrying a satchel.
“Thank you, sir, for the best night’s sleep I’ve had this week.”
“It’s only Tuesday.” the officer replied.
“I know, but it hasn’t exactly been a good week for me.” the young man said. He ran his fingers through his hair, ruffling it even further. “However, I am now well rested and well fed. I want to see what Florida looks like. Could you please point me in the direction of the beach?”
“Mr. Tannenbaum,” Sheriff Cook said, “Meet Warren Lennard.”
“Tannenbaum!” Quin exclaimed happily. “When did you get here?”
Thanks for reading! Check in every Tuesday and Saturday!