Years ago, when my parents were still sorta on speaking terms with me—because I hadn’t got same-sex married yet, let’s not be ambiguous about this—they sent me an interesting christmas present.
Back then I was writing this biweekly comics column for a now-defunct geek media site that kept promising to pay me for writing a regular column and never actually got around to paying me anything at all, so something like this? Where I could make regular hay out of having humorous reactions to how silly and lame they were? This was a godsend.
But now that the now-defunct site is, well, defunct, they’re kinda the only thing I wrote for them that I’m still pleased enough with to want to bring back.
Plus, I can remaster them to include swears and explicitly gay remarks that Were Not Allowed previously.
I would not blame you for never having heard of the American Comics Group. In the fifties and sixties, they were by no means the only company publishing one-shot horror/sci fi comics. Publishers like these would spring up, sell cheaply made comics as fast as they could, then get driven out of business by the Comics Code Authority. Think of them as filling the same cultural niche as Goosebumps.
Except legitimately utter nonsense.
If you’ve spent any time with me in real life, you’ve probably heard me bring up how MST3K was so vital to the internet’s sense of humor? But I think something like it was inevitable, something that got mileage out of holding up the cultural artifacts of the American 50s and 60s and mocking them, because they were pre-eminently mockable. Every one of the stories in the collection I’ve got proceeds on backwards moon-logic. They’ve never heard of suspension of disbelief. And they seem to be all taking place in a world inhabited by robots who view ‘explaining the plot to one another’ as a normal and healthy reaction to everything from terror to heartbreak to mild indigestion.
Here. Let me hold up this cultural artifact of the american 50s and mock it.
Each issue of Adventures into the Unknown contains multiple stories. This one is the first. In the entire collection
Man, Skullsman and the new Mrs. Skullsman--congratulations, by the way--have a pretty serious threshold to cross. I don’t mean that metaphorically, like married life is a threshold, I mean look at this… tunnel? Space portal? It’s got planets and stars and seems to be coming from some kind of fancy restaurant. I bet that’s a long trip. I don’t blame her for trying to catch a nap.
But never mind that, ol’ Granny’s had a fall. She’s got Danny WORRIED! But she doesn’t WANT to die, although she changes her mind about that in the very next panel, because death’s WIFE IS ONE OF HER OLDEST FRIENDS!
You don’t have to shout, Ma’am. He’s right there.
You see what I meant about the characters explaining the plot to eachother?
So grandma runs into a lady who she thinks she recognizes.
She flees, but the Granny is a cunning hunter, and knows it is literally impossible for a woman to leave any building before Getting Her Wraps. Crispy chicken caesar ones probably.
Annette, for tis she, denies it for all of three and a half seconds before breaking under Granny’s ruthless interrogation techniques of Asking a Question and then Not Anything Else. For years she’s been in dread of her secret being revealed! Which is why she’s going to reveal it all to you right now!
Credit to the artist for using distinct styles of clothing to establish that this flashback is even longer ago than the previous flashback.
But Dr. Colonel Sanders is right, Annette, you only have a year to live, so you need to live it to the fullest. Why, with determination, you can sit in a fancy hotel and excitedly point out when people spill things! They might even turn out to be Handsomely Gaunt.
Maybe they’ll even turn out to have a mysterious secret like… randomly walking away in the middle of a conversation.
Huh.
That’s not mysterious, lady, that’s just your how you find out that your boyfriend is a dick.
Ah, but in the last panel, all is revealed. Her fiance is... secretly a mascot for a laxative! And he’s been summoned to cure this man’s crippling constipation. “It’s time to go now,” indeed.
And go he does, with a hearty Arrgh.
It wasn’t a face, it was… the Great Papyrus! He really is the best at dates! Nyeh heh heh!
I swear this was a topical joke when I first wrote it...
“Answer me--Don’t stand there with your mouth open! Stand there with your mouth alternating between an open state and a closed one, thus forming words, with which you answer me!”
Pierre bails right the fuck out of his own wedding, which let’s be honest, lady, is only continuing the pattern of the engagement. That thing where he would just wander off mid conversation was only three panels ago. You had plenty of red flags about this guy’s commitment issues that you chose to ignore, Annette. I shouldn’t have to tell you that if a guy doesn’t volunteer basic information like HIS ADDRESS, maybe don’t rush into a relationship!
Oh, I get it. This is one of those ‘American tourist goes to France and can’t speak French’ situations.
HEY. I see that hand gesture, Msr. Hotel Explainer! I know what you think you’re implying! You cut that out! I don’t care if you’re trying to make her feel better about her husband being missing, other people’s anatomy isn’t yours to comment on!
Even if it’s TRUE, dude’s a skeleton, it would hardly be the most pressing issue in comparison.
So, it only occurs to her to find out her husband’s last name AFTER the wedding, which, not great, and it turns out his last name is DEATH! Though it’s really hardly surprising that Death’s name is “Death.” The real mystery is, why is Death’s first name “Pierre?”
“You think that disappearing act is impressive, Mr. Death? I’ll show you how to get out of a Marriage!”
So… death will never touch you, because you’re his wife.
Huh.
Cause if there’s one thing married couples never ever do, under any circumstances, it’s TOUCH eachother. Uh huh. Sure Annette. I dunno if this is a straight people problem, a 50s problem, or a straight people in the 50s problem.
So the horror of it burned searingly into her brain, and then the horror of it seared burningly into her brain, and the searing of it brained horrorly into her burn.
But by uniting herself to death Annette has TRANSCENDED mortal limitations, and no longer needs anyone else present to explain the plot to!
Welp! Only one thing for it—flee sexily in nothing but a diaphanous sheet!
Wait, why do the light fixtures have little cartoon cherub faces?
Dammit Abelard, throwing a knife is your answer to everything! How many coma victims has this man killed?!
Though you’re no better, Other Abelard. Just cause she got up doesn’t mean you can jump to conclusions and start screaming about dark powers, maybe this woman WASN’T DEAD? You haven’t checked, you don’t know! Plus, this is happening back when doctors thought women could die of like… hearing a cuss, this CAN’T be the first time this has come up! Maybe you’re just not good at your job!
Yes, I the READER know she’s wed to Death Itself and No Longer Of This Earth but YOU don’t know that! You just see a lady in a hurry and go straight to ‘Knife Time!’ You maniacs.
See Abelard? Now you don’t even have a knife anymore. This is what happens when we can’t be responsible with our things.
You can pour on the scary block capitals all you want, comic, but “I DO NOT DESTROY THAT WHICH I LOVE” isn’t ominous, it’s just sensible. It’s how you’d describe the concept of love to an evil A.I. that had just become self-aware. It’s decent marital advice, even.
Granted “don’t destroy things you love” isn’t exactly advanced marital advice, but this is a story that thought ‘husband wanders off randomly mid-sentence to kill passerby with his dark powers’ was something that she should just, like, suck it up and learn to get over already. If this is where they end up? Then that’s the healthiest their relationship has ever been.
Also… ‘dead bodies can’t change?’ Really? Cause Vampires, Zombies, Liches, and the art of every black Magic: the Gathering card would beg to disagree. We have an entire industry dedicated to keeping dead bodies from changing long enough that we can actually have the funeral, lady, for somebody married to Death you sure don’t have the slightest idea how it works.
Honestly they kinda deserve eachother.