Sweet Boneless Jesus – Review Of Todd The Ugliest Kid On Earth #6

Ed. Note. This review starts off with spoilers. Ugly, ugly spoilers. And tits, but, mostly spoilers. You’ve been warned.

The world is not what it seems.

That is the message writer Ken Kristensen and artist M.K. Perker are trying to get across in Todd The Ugliest Kid On Earth – and they are succeeding.

Ever wonder why Charlie Rose is so damn popular? Arguably, because he is a national treasure (his words). Also? Satanist. No, scratch that. Satanist-In-Chief.

Yep. Kristensen and Perker have created a world where Rose is a Satanist hunted by a Groucho Marx lookalike, where tits are the mirror of the soul, and local bullies get their comeuppance during a Seven Minutes In Heaven session that rapidly devolves into their own, personal Crying Game. And in the middle of it all?

Todd. The Ugliest Kid On Earth.

Interested? You should be.

Kristensen and Perker, who are both responsible for developing the story, have done an admirable job at bringing to life a wholly absurd world. Coffee tables are virgin snatching portals to hell that can be purchased at the town’s local comic convention. Todd, who wears a bag over his head, is made to dress up as his foster sister, Sandy, by his dad Gus. Sandy was recently sucked down to Hell by the coffee table and Gus wants to keep collecting the sweet, sweet foster kid money payouts from the state. Why should Todd question this to be anything other than normal? After all, as Gus tells him,

Don’t be ungrateful. Jesus. Do you know how may boys would kill to have the kind of dad who’d give ’em a chance to explore their feminine side? Do you?

Besides, if he’s good, Santa will bring him a little something from Victoria’s Secret. Seriously.

Meanwhile, Todd’s mom is out exploring back alley Craig’s List voodoo boob jobs. Yes, really.

Note to self – Craig’s List Voodoo Boob Job would make an excellent name for a punk band.

Throw in the appearance of Charlie Rose and his nemesis, The Marxman (“The Anti-Semitic Satanic Demon Hunter”) and a story that was already decidedly whacky kicks right up into flat out wild. What kind of drugs were Perker and Kristensen on when they thought this stuff up and, more importantly, where can I get some?

At the same time, didn’t being a kid trying to understand adults always feel about this absurd? Parents ask you to do things that make absolutely no sense at the time, but you do them, because they’re your parents. Friends want to involve you in stuff that you may not necessarily agree to because you want to fit in, and you go along with it because they’re your friends. And sometimes Charlie Rose shows up looking for his coffee table. Ok. I got nothing for you there.

Perker’s artwork also contributes well to the sense of the absurd in this story. Todd is tiny, while the adults around him are so large, as it should be to convey that he’s a kid. But it also reinforces the sense that Todd is at the mercy of those around him. Perker’s fine line work and cross hatched shading also brings out each of the characters’ inner freak. Todd’s dad, Gus, won’t be winning any Nobel prizes for his contributions to humanity any time soon, and you can tell it just by looking at him. The Marxman looks as though his face is made from an overabundance of skin, to hilariously grotesque effect. Panel layout is straightforward, which leads to clear storytelling for the reader to follow. It all works.

We’ve all been the kid with the bag over his head, or at least felt like it. When Todd’s actions in this story accidentally lead to the puncturing of his mom’s newly refurbished rack, leading to his father’s reprisal, that could have been the shattered vase, broken window, or unfortunately mauled copy of More Of The Monkees of any of our childhoods. Not that I’m admitting to anything. But, as much as the world built in this story may be over the top, it also succeeds in being hysterically funny and relate-able at the same time, even if your dad may not have prank called a PBS telethon to ask if Big Bird took a crap on his car. Todd’s dad apparently did. Me? I’m still not admitting to anything.