When I was a kid my older sister cut out a cardboard box for me that was large enough for me to fit in and drew in a bunch of knobs and sci-fi looking gadgets in it.  We would pretend it was a shuttlecraft from Star Trek and that we were on an away mission from the Enterprise.  When we were older we even wrote a play about the victory of the Borg over mankind to the music of the Beatle’s instrumentals on their Yellow Submarine album.  I’m not even kidding you.

Sometimes I think that the reason I do stuff like this (make comics that is, not write Star Trek fan service plays) is that my obsessive imagination never really went away.  Whenever I pick up my tablet pen I kind of zone out for a minute or two and imagine it’s a space ship getting fired upon by enemy vessels.  When I’m a passenger in a car I still imagine something is running along side me jumping over the obstacles that pass through the window.  I’ll look out a window and imagine a hyper-realistic Missile Command game running.

I think I may have captured that elusive trait of being a “child at heart” or the all too common one of “brain damage.”