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MA’AM?
HE...
IT...
I SAW.
CAN I
HAVE MY
PURSE BACK
NOW?
THAT’S IT! I’LL SHOOT ITS WINGS OFF NEXT TIME, ISWEAR!
I WAS FOUR YEARS,
TWO MONTHS, AND FIVE
DAYS FROM MY PENSION WHEN
I MET MY FIRST ALIEN. REMEMBER,
BOBBI, WHEN THE MUNCHKINS LANDED
AND THEY ANNOUNCED HOW THEY’D
BEEN WATCHING US FOR NEARLY SIXTY
YEARS, WAITING? AND THE DELAYS
TRYING TO OPEN A STARPORT HERE?
WHAT WAS IT, FIVE YEARS OF
ANTICIPATION BEFORE THEY EVEN
SET FOOT ON AMERICAN SOIL?
ENDLESS CONGRESSIONAL MEETINGS,
TREATIES, AND RED TAPE OUT
THE ASS. THE TUNNEL COLLAPSE,
THE RIOTS IN NEW YORK.
ENDLESS.
POINT IS, THEY
TOOK SIX DECADES
TO COME KNOCKING ON
OUR DOOR, AND ONE MORE
BEFORE KNOCKING ON MINE,
SO DON’T YOU THINK THEY COULD
HAVE WAITED A BIT LONGER? MAYBE
LET ME GET ON WITH MY DAMNED
RETIREMENT BEFORE I BECAME
BEHOLDEN TO SOME PINK
FROG-FACED ASSHAT WHO
INSISTS ON BEING
ADDRESSED AS
"TOPMAN"?
AND WHY HERE,
KELLEHER? WHY ME?
WHY MY CITY?
DON’T WORRY,
CAPTAIN, YOU STILL
GET TO RETIRE. THE
TOPMAN HAS SENT A
SKIMMER. IT SHOULD
BE OUTSIDE RIGHT
NOW.
THAT’S ALL
I NEED. IF GOD HAD
MEANT CARS TO FLY, HE
WOULDN’T HAVE GIVEN
THEM WHEELS.
I SPENT MY
WHOLE LIFE ON
THE FORCE, BOBBI.
UNTIL THE STARPORT
OPENED, I FIGURED I’D
SEEN JUST ABOUT
EVERYTHING...
BUT...HE
LOOKS LIKE A
COCKROACH.
WHO?
THE SKRIT
TRADE ENVOY.
HE’S FIVE FEET THREE
INCHES TALL, ONLY HE’S
A COCKROACH. KAFKA
WOULD BE PROUD, BUT
IT CREEPS ME RIGHT
THE FUCK OUT.
WITH 314
OTHER SPECIES
IN THE HARMONY, IT
FIGURES THAT SOME OF
THEM MIGHT BE
INSECTS...
THE MAYOR
IS GOING TO GIVE
HIM A KEY TO THE CITY.
HE’LL PROBABLY SHAKE
HANDS WITH HIM. CAN
COCKROACHES SHAKE
HANDS?
DO
COCKROACHES
EVEN HAVE HANDS?
MAYOR DALEY
WOULD NEVER HAVE GIVEN A COCKROACH THE KEY TO THE CITY!
WELL...
MAYBE IF IT WAS A
DEMOCRAT?
IF THERE’S
NO DRIVER, I’M NOT
GETTING IN.
C’MON,
CAPTAIN.
