In 1985, I and some friends rented an apartment. We named the place S.K.I.G. Row. This was an anagram of the initials of our last names – Smith, Kursh, Ingersoll, Gerboth. We kept the apartment for a little over two years, keeping the name when Kursh moved out and Kucera moved in. It was a great place to live. I had one of my favorite Christmases there. We partied a lot. There was always someone dropping by. There was drama, laughter and not a lot of sleep.
This sketch page is an attempt to cartoon the inhabitants of the Row. The situation was ideal for a comic strip, comic novel, something. Not all the sketches here are based on my roommates. It looks like I thought of doing that cartoons after I’d already done a couple of sketches. The cartoons themselves only vaguely resemble their inspirations. I was going for very simple designs – basic facial shape, then exaggerate.
And there, lurking in the shadows, we found this weird little guy named Dilbert. Nobody knew how he got in the house, but there he was, seemingly harmless. We let him stay for a while, and he finally drifted away after a few silent years. Never really joined the group.
Later, he turned up, mysteriously missing his mouth. We were politely curious, wondering, but he didn’t want to talk about it. Some experiences are best left unstated, the omission too painful to fill, especially when you don’t have a mouth with which to scream.
Eric the Ex-Coworker
Dude, we painted his mouth over. He’d have never shut up if we hadn’t. Talk, talk, talk, that’s all he ever did. All about how he was going to become the biggest cartoon star in the world. If he hadn’t been buying beer we’d have killed him.
Then he went and became a big deal and now he won’t return my calls. I swear, some people have no sense of gratitude.