Some years ago, on a suffocating August night here in Ol’ Virginny, my good friend Jhonen V. and I, having recently eaten our fill of filthy meat and raw terbacky, retired to the porch of my crumbling Antebellum mansion to watch mosquitoes drain our blood and reminisce about the old times. Between puffs on our corn-cob pipes we spoke of many things, but, as was our custom, the conversation soon turned to our mutual friend Rikki S., and his terrible ways with Ham.


Soon after that fateful night, Jhonen began to fill a FLICKR SET with etchings of the Unspeakable Thing, as if by forcing strangers to render the hateful image again and again he could somehow exorcize it from his agonized mind. (As to his ultimate success or failure I cannot say, as the coroner’s document remains painfully elusive on all matters immaterial.) I, for my part, returned to the darkest corner of my decaying ancestral home and crouched there in the stultifying shadows, swaying and staring, staring, EVER STARING, and thinking only of the Hams and the Furnace and the hateful Thing that would one day bring both of them to me.

I crouched there for 2 years, 10 months, 3 days and 13 hours… then someone commissioned me to do this drawing for fifty bucks.

“WHATEVER,” I said.

And then Rikki colored it, it being HIS Ham Chamber and all. I think we can all agree it’s pretty hideous and disturbing and you wouldn’t want to be stuck sitting next to it on a bus or anything, but man… Not sure it was worth dying in a madhouse over or anything. But ha! I guess that’s just how it goes sometimes.

Crazy stuff, man!

Get your own HAM DEMON PRINT, signed by me and the Mr. Ham Demon himself, Rikki Simons, right about here:

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