#andrew littledore

[skidar]

A sequel Jerri comic to this one I made five years ago.  Gears still can’t stomach reptilian oddities much to Andrew’s delight and Jerri obliviousness. 

When I lived in Texas we used to have a bunch of geckos in and around the house and whenever they crawled across a light source you could see all their teeny tiny innards. 

Happy International Reptile Day ;)

[skidar]

Just cause you torched your birth certificate doesn’t mean the information doesn’t exist. Somewhere. Heavily redacted. Buried in the bowels of a volcano. 

[skidar]

Meet Gears -Skidar

Time for the monthly reading of Tucson Meets Andrew. Here's where Andrew Meets Gears, one of my favorite pieces of dialogue in the whole story :)

In the waiting room Andrew tapped his boot agitatedly. Bitterly he scolded himself for looking at the clock, not for how long he was here, but how long ago his shift had started. He didn’t want to leave Jerri, but he really couldn’t afford to spoil his chances on a job either. His worried conflicted in his head, trying to one-up each other in importance until he finally had to take off his hat and massage his pounding head. 

He heard a door open down the hall and looked through his fingers hopefully but saw a nurse leading two mice down the hall, one with a heavily bandaged arm and hand and the other, a white and gray patched mouse with a ragged looking ear, helping lead him to the door. “Too bad fingers don’t grow back.” The patched mouse sucked air through his teeth. “I’ll see to it your compensated for it, Smithers, don’t worry.” The other mouse nodded dully and the nurse led him around the desk to another room. The patched mouse sighed some papers on the desk and straightened up, stretching his back. He was young, around Andrew’s age probably. His clothes were nicked and torn, stain with what looks like oil and grease. His fur must have been white under all the grit but was several shades darker than what white ought to be. Andrew saw him turn to walk towards some chairs to sit when a work glove slipped out of his back pocket. “”Dropped your glove.” Andrew called lowly. The mouse kept walking. “Hey? Hey you?” Andrew stood and went over, picking up the glove and catching up, prodding his shoulder. The mouse jumped and turned with a frown. “Great thunderclouds! You don’t go sneakin’ oh hey, glove, thanks.” His demeanor changed almost instantly as he took back his glove. “Didn’t mean to startle you.” Andrew confessed. “What’s that?” The patched mouse angled his non-maimed ear forward. “Sorry, I can’t hear you, ‘less you speak up and want to be heard.” Andrew blinked and raised his voice slightly, it felt weird to raise his voice indoors. “I said I didn’t mean to startle you. I’m Andrew.” He held out his hand and the patched mouse smiled and shook it. “Gears.” He nodded. “Gears?”  “Yes, better name than the one I started with. Gilligan.” Gears rolled sky blue eyes. “What are you in here for?” “Oh, found uh, see my friend Jerri.” “All I got out of that was something found out about cherries, Andrew, I can’t hear you.” “Sorry.” Andrew shook his head. “Um, my gecko friend, I found him hurt.” “Oh the kid they rushed back there?” Gears jerked his thumb to the back door. “Saw him get passed off to the reptilian ward. They’ll put him on firerocks, though looks like he’ll need to be half pan-fried to get his temp up. What happened to him.” “I don’t know,” Andrew frowned. But he had a hunch… “Er, what are you here for?” He asked. “When you tell a new hired to watch his fingers in a textile gear assembly engine and they don’t, they lose their fingers. That’s what happened.” “That’s awful.” Andrew winced, clenching his fists at the thought. “Yeah.” Gears shrugged and sat down, folding his arms. “Well, you’re obviously not from around here, how come you’re hanging out with lizards anyway? Not really a mouse’s crowd.” “He was sort of showing me around.” Andrew sat on his other side. “He walked home alone last night, and this morning I found him like that on the street. I’m worried for him.” “Gotta watch these streets at night, especially you, don’t be lead off anywhere, not even by a dame who says she needs your help, you here? That’s the latest angle.” “Angle?” “No, angle, pay attention.” Andrew arched a brow but said nothing. “You’ll end up looking like your friend or worse. Gets rough out here after dark. I’d quit hanging with lizards too, you’ll get into deep trouble. They’ll drag you down with them.” “Not a fan of lizards are you?” Andrew frowned slightly. “Nothing against an honest lizard, if there is one, but no, I’m not.” Gears snorted. “Give it a month, of you stay that long, you’ll see what I mean.” Gears coughed slightly into his hand and pulled out a stained handkerchief with a faded blue W on the corner. “So where you from, again?” “I didn’t say.” “You going to say or can I push down my cap and sleep?” Gear smirked. Andrew smiled faintly. “You wouldn’t want to hear I doubt.” “I doubt I could hear it with your mumbly mouth.” Andrew laughed slightly.  “Come on, all small town boys wanna talk about home, its painfully true. You’re bustin’ at the seams.” “I’m from Redcliff.” “Never heard of it.” Gears fished a nail from his vest pocket and clamped it in his teeth. “Young town?” “Fairly. About 20 years give or take.” “Ranch land? Guess from the hand and boots.” “Guessed right.” Andrew nodded. “And you wanna go back.” “How do you know?” Andrew arched a brow. “Cause the star-eyed snaps I usually see can’t wait to trade in spurs for slacks and doll themselves up to look like they’ve lived here forever. You don’t seem to keen on shelving your roots.” “You’ve known me seven minutes.” Andrew checked the clock. “You’re not that complicated.” Gears glanced over at him.

--

Andrew the adorable country bumpkin is Moshypants's character The tattered patchy guy Gears is mine.

[moshypants]

Andrew getting a muffin from Whitney before a day of work. He makes it a routine.  Not just because the muffins are good either.

[moshypants]

Mr. Pringles

alkdjf I can't find him anywhere. Where did that file go? I was gonna finish him tonight... :/ Maybe it's a sign, the universe doesn't want Andrew Littledore to have a boss who is a snake, named Mr. Pringles. 

[moshypants]

Andrew working his job in the city. Hating his uniform and waiting for the day to be over so he can go back to the stables and work with the quail, the part of his job he prefers. 

Fun dressing him up all fancy! :D haha