In one reality humans consume information in a literal sense, and someone soon will be taking a nice big cold swig of extra pulpy Vol. 2, basking in the refreshing deliciousness of fresh fly fishing content. While they wipe some tasty prose from their chin with the back of their once sun-beaten forearm they stare out an office window and thank their deity for the shared experience of others.
A few realities away a child sits on a old pine bench on the porch of a cabin. He holds in his little hands a weathered book, he opens the cover and flips through a few chapters, letting the thick, rough edged pages fall between his fingers. His discarded waders and boots piled near his feet, which swing enthusiastically above the wooden deck.
An old man appears at the screen door holding a mixing bowl with sweet smelling , unknown contents.
The child looks up through the door. "You wrote this, grandpa?"
"No, just a part of it."
"Well, I bet it is the best part," the child replies and continues flipping through the old pages.
The old man smiles through the dusty screen as the sun pokes its orange fingers through the last remaining gaps in the tall trees that line the high mountain lake.
|What Pulp Fly: Vol. 2 would look like existing physically|
So finally we end with our own occasionally boring yet magnificently awesome reality, where right now the crack (or cracked out) editorial staff of Pulp Fly is working around the clock to bring you, valued reader, the newest, freshest, most bestest yet Pulp Fly yet: Volume Two, of which I am grateful to be a part:
|This is what Pulp Fly: Vol. 2 looks like in our (and your) reality|
As updates become available I will give them to you. For now, just try not to melt your brain thinking of all the awesomeness existing elsewhere, and focus more on the awesomeness existing here.
-Alex who may have shirked some semi-important duties while in the throws of graphic creation.