My toons

My Toons Are Here

Cartoon Website

I have been making some cartoons, they can be found at packardtoons.blogspot.com

Here is a sample

A story

Marty Talks Shit
By Nick Packard

Marty told you that I fucked your sister? Dude, Marty’s retarded. I mean, I love the kid, but he really does have some mental problems. I’ve known him since we played Pop Warner when we were seven, back before his Dad got locked up and before the Asians started taking over the neighborhood. I know him better than anyone, so I can tell you, Marty talks a lot of shit. I mean, we all talk shit, but no one talks shit like Marty. He talks out his ass 24-7. Now, when I say he talks shit, I don’t mean it like the black kids over on the basketball court at St. Peters, hollering at each other while they’re dunking and black dancing and all that shit. That’s just bragging. Marty talks shit like the old men on the bench in front of Blanchard’s Liquors talk shit. They straight make shit up. Like, the other day, I went over there to buy my Ma a pack of smokes, and the dude with the fedora, the one who wears the same sweatpants everyday, he tries to tell me that he used to play for the Detroit Tigers until he hurt his knee. And I’m like, “Eat a dick, old man. You’ve been drunk on that bench since 1973.”

-Yeah I did say that. What’s he gonna do? Chase me? He’s got a busted knee remember? Anyway, that’s how Marty talks shit too. He just makes stuff up. And you’ll know he’s lying and you’ll prove he’s lying, and dude just won’t give it up. That’s probably what this is. Marty’s just caught in another lie.

-Seriously dude, when we were like nine, me and Marty went to the same summer camp, over at the YMCA on O Street. On the first day of camp, the counselors made us get into a circle. They told us to go around the circle right? And everybody is supposed to say their name and one thing special about them. So everybody is taking their turn talking, explaining how their name is Brian or Julio or whatever and how they like Pizza or they have a new baby brother or some bullshit. Anyway, when it finally gets to Marty’s turn, he tells everyone that his name is Martin O’Connell and due to an allergic condition all he eats is crayons. And all the kids go apeshit. Everyone is laughing their fucking asses off right? Except Marty. He’s just standing there looking at the floor like he doesn’t know what all the fuss is about. Finally, the counselors calmed everyone down again and one is like, “Ok, Martin. Do you want to tell the group something real about yourself?” And Marty won’t let it go. He insists that he eats crayons and gets himself sent to the Director’s office for the day. And all summer, everyday at lunch, he brings out his regular fucking lunch that his mother packed him and the kids are like “Where are your fucking crayons Marty?” And every fucking day Marty says that his Mom must have forgot his dietary restrictions and that he would eat the regular lunch even though it would make him sick but that the next day he would have Crayons. Every fucking day he does this. And the best part, he comes back the next summer and tells everyone he never said he eats crayons.

-What do you mean, what’s the point? The point is that Marty lies. He fucking lies for fun.

-Yes he still does! Last weekend, Me and Marty and Johnny Bogans went to this party at some kid’s house up in Malden. It was some kid that Johnny knows from Hockey. Anyway, we’re all wasted, there’s some cute girls there, it’s a pretty good party. We’re all having a good time, and Marty starts telling this group of girls that his fucking great-grandfather invented Croutons. I listened to his story, it was pretty good actually. So he finishes, and the girls call their friends over to make him tell it again. We’d heard it and we knew he was full of shit so me and Bogans left him there. Bogans went upstairs with some busted Everett chick and I headed down to the basement to play Beirut. And like three hours go by, Bogans got his dick sucked and we’re ready to peace it. We go to get Marty, and now there’s like twenty girls sitting around him, asking him fucking questions about Croutons.

-Swear to God dude. They believed him. If I didn’t know Marty, I might have believed him too. I can see why you might be confused about me and your sister or whatever. Marty has gotten to be a fucking amazing liar. He can act better than like DeNiro and shit

-It was crazy! Basically, it was like this. Marty’s great-grandfather lived in some village in Maine or Vermont or something. Some town with only like a hundred people living there. And Marty’s great-grandfather owned a bakery right in the center of town, next to the post office and town hall and the one room schoolhouse and shit. Oh yeah, I forgot, this was fucking great, Marty tells everyone that his great-grandfather’s name was William J. Crouton. So the bakery is called Crouton’s. And this bakery, Crouton’s, it was the only food place in the town. No one had ovens or anything, all the bread came from William J. Crouton’s bakery. Every morning, all the people in this town would gather at Marty’s great-grandfather’s bakery, and they would get fresh bread to eat with breakfast, and everyday in the middle of the day, they would gather and get bread for lunch, same thing with dinner a the end of the day. Anyway, this went on for years, and the bread was good and people were happy. Everything was cool, Marty’s great-grandfather was doing pretty well, since he had the only food store in town and shit, and he got a wife and they had Marty’s grandfather. Life was good, until one day, this mysterious lady moved into the town, and bought a little shack next to the bakery. For like a month, all day everyday people heard hammering and shit inside this shack, but no one saw the lady. And everyone in the town is like, who is this lady? Is she a witch? Because back then they thought everybody was witches or whatever.

So anyway, one morning, like a month after the lady moved in, everyone was lined up to get their morning bread, and the lady walked out of the shack and started hammering something on the door. And everyone in town was like Oh Snap, it’s the witch lady, what’s her deal or whatever. So they walked over to check it out and there was a sign on her door that said “Sue’s Salad’s.” And everyone was confused, like fucking dumbfounded. So this cute little girl, she turns to the Mayor, and she’s got a lisp and shit, and she’s like Mistoo Mayoo, what’s salad? And dude was like I don’t know, little girl, I just don’t know. So then this lady Sue is like Gather around townsfolk, salad is food. Salad is food! And some retarded dude was like What kind of bread is salad? and she was all Salad isn’t bread, it’s different. And everyone was like Oh shit, different food, this is fucking crazy. So they all got out of line for the bakery and got in line over at the salad place.
The bakery opened up, and no one bought any bread. Then the same thing happened at lunch and at dinner, and then again the next day and the day after. And I guess Marty’s great-grandfather was dumb or whatever, because he kept on making bread everyday, three times a day like normal. He kept making bread and not selling it for like three weeks until one day he went to the next village over to buy some flour and he was like Oh shit, I don’t have any money. So he went back to his bakery, and he was distraught and shit, he was like I’m fucking ruined, whatever will I do? He decided that he was going to take his family, and move away, to a place where people appreciated bread. So he started looking for his suitcase. He’s got tears in his eyes, and he can’t find the fucking thing. Then, he realized, he couldn’t get to it, cause there was too much fucking unsold bread lying around. He was already upset, but when he realized this, dude went fucking nuts. He grabbed a big-ass knife that he used to slice the bread, and he chopped it all up into these small bits. But he still couldn’t get to his suitcase. By then, he’s a fucking raving-ass madman. He’s like Fuck it, I’m gonna burn it, burn it all. So he took a shovel, and he shoveled all the little bread pieces into the oven and he turned it on. At that point it was like noon, and all the townspeople were eating their midday salads when a delicious smell started wafting out of the bakery. The little bread bits were cooking, and they smelled fucking good. And the townspeople come over to the bakery, and they are like Marty’s great-grandfather, what’s going. And he was like, I’m leaving, you cocksuckers, you hate bread. And they’re like, no not that, what’s that smell, that smells new. And Mr. Crouton was like, it’s all my old bread, take it if you want, I’m out of this hellhole.

So the townspeople took the baking bread bits out of the oven, and they started eating them, but they were still holding their noon salads, so they were eating them too. And the salad and the bread bits went well together. One guy yelled to Mr. Crouton, “Hey, I’d like to buy some of these-“ But he didn’t know what to call them. And Mr. Crouton was like, Croutons. And everyone lived happily ever after and shit.

-I know man, it’s a fucking awesome story. Marty is amazing at that shit. Which is why I’m telling you, I didn’t fuck your sister. Marty made it up.

-I don’t know why, but he did. Are we cool man?

-Cool, well I’ll talk to you later, gimmie a call, we’ll gab some beers and go to the fucking driving range.

-Peace man.

-Yo Marty, it’s Billy.

-Hey, I just talked to Chuckie DiAllisandro for like a half hour. You really fucked me over man. So now, if he ever talks to you, you gotta just make up a bullshit story.

-No, not about me and his sister, about anything in the world. I told him you’re a fucking constant liar, and that you’re fucking amazing at it.

-Yeah he bought it. I’m an amazing liar.

Some thoughts on food in a shrinking world

Ok so here's the deal. Cultures today are most combined and integrated than ever before. I bet they watch rugrats in Zaire, etc. But food has not kept up. Many Foods remain segregated along ethnic lines. I am calling for a re-examination of all "ethinic food" with the goal of finding new and exciting foods.

Examples (Most of these are probably gross, the idea is just to get the mind working...)

Hummus in tacos
Raw Fish (Sushi Style) on Pizza
How Good does General Tso's Itallian Sausage sound?

I wrote a poem, then, in response, I created a blog.

I was at V-day dinner with the lady friend discussing the merits of playing with sound in poetry. So, I wrote a poem.


Poem

Hey asshole,
Pass me
my Ascot.

-NP


That's it for now, I'll try to write everydayish I suppose...