Jay Naylor

Dear sirs,

I've been reading BDK and Better Days for about two or three months now. I've never posted on either webcomic's forums, I've never wrote to either of you before.However, after witnessing the apparent split in relations, I had to write and say that you are both acting like childish asses.You're both having what appears to be a falling out with each other, and it seems to be due to a right-wing/left-wing thing. And frankly, it sucks. It sucks /large./ (could it /b/?!)

Flaming Mat's artistic skills was a very low blow - and an unnessessary one. To claim to be embaressed by his artistic skills as an excuse for no longer linking to him is like disowning a relative because they dress like a nerd. (Naylor denies saying so, is he repent on his own sins?!) It's called Badly Drawn Kitties, but it really is not. The character art is very simple, elegant in it's general line-art appearance. I will also note that this is the very same style of character art that has made Howard Taylor's Schlock Mercenary ( www.schlockmercenary.com ) one of the most popular webcomics /ever./ And okay, the backgrounds are badly drawn. That's part of the style, and frankly, I like it. And I'm willing to bet a lot of other people like it. (Even if Naylor is superior in art, BDK is overall far more superior than Better Days {even though they are both furry})

And the apparent descision on Mat's part to simply steal Sheila Black and rename her, make a new character to contine - it's simply ludicrious and asinine. Frankly, I'd be surprised if there's a single BDK reader who is not also a Better Days reader. The two are as intertwined as Abbott and Costello.

Frankly, you're both acting like asses, and it's us - the readers - who are going to suffer. It's craptacular horse manure is what this all is! You can't try and yank BDK away from Better Days anymore than you can yank the rotors from a helicoptor, the wings from an airplane, the hull from a ship or the chassis from a car. You've managed to create a dualistic webcomic that provides humor and funny insight on a daily basis, and a more deep venture mondays and friday.

Except... Better Days isen't funny. And BDK is not deep in that it never makes you think. Yeah, you heard me. Better Days is not funny at all. And BDK is about as deep as a wading pool. Without each other, they'll fall apart as the readers become tired of the heavy-handed maturity, general lack of laughing, and frequent tiresome angst of Better Days, or of the fact that BDK is rarely challenging to the mind. It's good for some slapstick, and sure, we all love the sex scenes, but ultimately it will simply become an excersise in "yawn, Lucy's having sex with another girl again." And Better Days will become "how boring, Fisk's beating the crap out of someone again."

Suck it up and make nice, or it's going to be the readers who suffer, and then ultimately divide into two camps. Then the members of those camps will just kind of drift away, bored.

Fisk looked up into the shower, closing his eyes. His prison sentence was well underway now. It was typical left-wing liberal bullshit. When he had burst into that den of drug-dealing slavers to save Persia, the two men he’d wasted turned out to be undercover cops. So what? If these cops were so good, why had they stood idly by while Persia turned into a drug-addicted porn star? Those cops were pathetic, spending months trying to build some bullshit case to put criminals in jail, instead of just shooting them. Didn’t they know that some activist judge would just put them back out on the street anyway?

It was the trial that sickened him the most, though. Try as he might to defend himself and explain his actions to the jury, that Jew mouse lawyer cunt just argued again and again that his little act of vigilanteism had cost the department it’s two finest undercover agents, not to mention the fact that he had brought an investigation to a screeching halt. So what if he killed a few cops while he was saving the woman he loved? Didn’t everyone understand that this was an honest mistake, and if the cops were so good that they wouldn’t have let this happen in the first place? As Fisk saw it, he was the only real hero here, the only one brave enough to take action. Anyone who happened to get caught up in the crossfire was just as pathetic and weak as those criminals.

But it was all in the past now, he’d been given two consecutive life sentences with no chance for parole. All that was left was to wait it out, to survive in this hell with all those damn criminals. He looked idly at a small gang of hyenas showering on the far side of the showers, talking to one another in that hideous corruption of English that they called Ebonics. They disgusted him, their massive, sculpted bodies and large black cocks glistening with water from the shower. They didn’t know what was right and what was wrong, like he did. They hadn’t served their country, a country which had betrayed Fisk by being weak and coddling people like those hyenas. It made him sick. If he just had a gun, he knew he could drop each and every one of them before they knew what was happening. What was this country coming to, that they would betray and waste someone as superior as him?

Fisk turned his face back to the shower, and heard footsteps behind him. He knew that the hyenas were coming closer, but he wasn’t afraid. He was superior. He could take them out easily if they were foolish enough to get near to him. And come nearer they did, continuing to talk in their hideous dialect, their words as empty as their minds.

“Damn boy, is you that Fisk pussy?” said one of the hyenas. Fisk ignored the hyena. He was, after all, just out of reach. “Ain’t you that pussy who laid down them two cops?”

“Shit, you know that we ain’t keen on someone without the propah respect fo’ authoritay,” said another one. “Don’t you know that we’s interested in contributin to the communitay?” Fisk’s blood began to boil. How DARE these inferior, drug-dealing punks challenge him? He could feel that they were just barely in range now. He’d show them. No need to talk when you could just kick a few asses.

Fisk spun around rapidly on his foot, his leg coming up high and fast. Cracking a skull would get that asshole to shut up. He had misjudged, however, that the floor was quite slippery from soap and water, and that he would be unable to balance on his one foot. His kick went wild as his other leg lost all traction, and he came down hard on his knee, pain lancing up from the tile floor. He had to move fast, the hyenas were surrounding him, and he brought his other knee down as he prepared to pounce.

The hyenas were wise to this, though, and grabbed him roughly on the shoulders, pinning him on all fours. He bucked against them, but years of working out in the prison exercise yard had given them powerful muscles and he was useless against him. He grunted, looking up at them with pure hatred, but they just smiled down at him. “Shit boy, if we’s known you just wanted to make amends, we’d have been nice,” said one of the hyenas.

Without warning, the hyena in front of him began to piss on his face. It was disgusting, humiliating stuff, but he tried to keep strong. That massive black shaft, ten inches long even when it was as loose and floppy as a hotdog, meant nothing to him even as the hyenas laughed at his piss-coated face. “Open your mouth, bitch,” said the pissing hyena. When he refused, one of the others forced his mouth open, and though he tried to bite the hyena’s big, powerful hands, his resistance was futile. The hyena in front of him pissed in his mouth, and though he tried to spit it out, he had no choice but to swallow it or choke to death on it. And if he let himself die, how could he get revenge? He let it slide down his throat.

“Ain’t nothin’ like the pussy of a pussy,” said one of the hyenas. He couldn’t see the monster, but he could feel fingers gently probing at his tailhole, coating it with soap and stretching it open. He renewed his struggle, gritting his teeth as he was penetrated, and desperately tried to whip his tail down over his hole. It was to no avail, one of the hyenas, probably the one probing him, grabbed it and pulled it tight. “Shit boy, I thought you wanted this,” said the hyena behind him. “Well, you’ll learn to love it.”

Fisk refused to give them the pleasure of hearing him scream in pain as he was penetrated by inch after inch. The hyena was by no means small. If it was big as it felt, Fisk had never seen a cock near as big. It had to be a foot long, at least, and it was thick too. He kept his teeth gritted tight and his eyes closed as he felt the hyena begin to thrust, the big shaft slowly working more and more in. He refused to enjoy it, or show any emotion other than disgust as the gigantic black shaft worked his prostate gently. He had to be strong around these evil criminals.

“Shit, this bitch is tiiiiiiiiteee…” said the hyena up his ass. “Damn, look at that little boner of his, bitch is enjoyin’ it.” He knew that the stimulation had gotten him aroused, but it was just an autonomic response he couldn’t control. They might think that he was enjoying it, but how could he possibly be enjoying this horrible humiliating action, perpetrated by criminal hyenas, no matter how handsome or well endowed they were? He wasn’t gay. These assholes were. The one in front of him tapped his nose gently with his enormous shaft, which was now hard as a rock. It was only the fact that he was pinned and surrounded on all sides that kept him from biting it. He would have to bide his time and wait for a chance at his revenge. If one of those guards would just leave his gun unattended for a few moments…

“You best get suckin’,” said the hyena in front of him. “I know you love it, stick it in your mouth or I’ll let Andre here get wild on you with his razor.” Fisk scowled, but when he saw the glint of metal coming from the hyena on his right, he knew that he couldn’t refuse the request. He opened his mouth, letting the hyena jam in his massive shaft, which filled Fisk’s mouth with deep musky flavor. He tried to spit out the hyena’s precum, but all this served to do was move his tongue over the big shaft, making it slick. He gave up, letting the hyena slowly and gently fuck his mouth, teasing his gag reflex but going no further. “Damn, you’s right, pussies is da best pussies in da cage…”

The hyena in up his tailhole soon picked up the pace, and then cried out in ecstasy as he finished up, leaving Fisk’s innards filled with warm semen. Fisk didn’t even have a chance to resist as the next one came into place, sliding in and stuffing Fisks’s ass even as he tried to squeeze and push back in resistance. The hyenas babbled to each other, swapping high fives and talking about how excited they were to have a new “pussy,” forcing Fisk to take them in his mouth, his ass, his hands. He never gave in, though, never letting them hear even the slightest moan of pleasure or the slightest indication he wasn’t going to escape as soon as they got off of him. When they finally grew tired, they had left five loads in his ass and three in his mouth, and all four of them had peed on him. His body was a disgusting mass of piss and semen , but he just continued to glower at them from the floor.

Shit pussy, you’s got de best pussy I’s had in dis prison, said one of the hyenas. Fisk glowered, making sure that the hyena knew that Fisk would kill him the first chance he got. “Well, we’s fucked you, we’s pissed on you…I’d say you’s our new bitch. You’re comin’ with us.” They forced him to his feet, not pausing to wash him off as they dragged him naked from the showers. He grinned at them as they walked him into the hall. So they were going to take him back to their hang, eh? Try to humiliate them more? He would never submit. He would just bide his time, and the moment that they thought that they were safe around him, he would kill the lot of them. It couldn’t be hard, chiseled and built and hung though they all were, and even though the shortest one of them had a foot of height on him, he knew that he was the superior one. He was the one really in charge here. All he had to do was wait, and to never give in.