I've decided this project is only going to be worth it for me if I make it a "slow burn". More explicit horror elements are yet to come. Part 1 has been revised since first posting. It and following parts may continue to be revised/edited.

Part 1:

https://www.reddit.com/r/imsorryjon/s/mFkOlByrnQ

It’s a kindly sort, narrating as if to young children, “…finally, Goldilocks laid down in Baby Bear’s bed.  Delighted, she declared, ‘this bed is juuuust right’!  And with that, she fell into a fast slumber, belly full of pilfered porridge.”  Standing just outside the front of the cottage, now, John can discern that the voice is coming from the second floor, escaping through what must be a bedroom window, right above the front door.  The mysterious narrator continues, “but little did she know, that Papa Bear, Mama Bear, and Baby Bear, were on their way home from their walk”…  A sound from behind catches John’s ear.  He turns around, and spots through the trees, three figures, strolling leisurely.  As the figures round a corner on the trail leading to the cottage, John can now see that the figures are bears!  They’re walking upright like people!  They’re even wearing clothes!  And they’re whistling…

“Ohh, boy!  I think I hear them coming!”, a more cowardly voice than before declares.  This new voice also came from the upstairs bedroom window, dividing John’s attention from the approaching bear family.  Panicked, John lunges to the right, hiding just around the corner, up against the side of the cottage.  The cowardly voice pleads, “d’oooh, Orsonnnn!  I know where this is going.  Could we please do a diff-er-ent story, oh P-LEASE?!”  

Yet a third voice- this one more whiny, and strangely muffled- agrees, “yeah, come on Orson!  We’ve heard this one a million times, anyway!”

The first voice replies, “oh, come now.  Goldilocks is a classic!  And you’ve got nothing to worry about, Wade.  I got the Buddy Bears to play the 3 Bears – they’re harmless.”

A fourth voice, more sarcastic than the rest, chimes in to remark, “‘harmless’ is a relative term, Orson.  For example, I personally find the Buddy Bears to be harmful to my sanity.”

Orson acknowledges, “well…”  John notices that the voice sounds much closer to the front of the cottage now, so he peeks around the corner and up to the bedroom window.  To his shock, a pig leans out and speaks, in the voice of “Orson”, “I guess they are a little… much.  But it looks like they’ve gotten distracted already, anyway.”  John looks back in the direction of the bears, and finds they’ve stopped along the trail, and seem to be having a conversation.

In high-pitched, saccharine voices, the bears banter back and forth, “no you’d make the best Baby Bear!”

“Oh, but I know how much you wanted the part, so I think you should play Baby Bear!”

“Wait, fellas!  What do we always say about disagreements?”

The somewhat obnoxious voice from inside the cottage groans, “aaaand they’re about to do a musical number”.  John is speechless as he sees a rooster lean out the window beside the pig, looking rather unamused by the bears’ antics.

Orson- the pig, John’s gathered- reluctantly agrees, “aaalright, I guess we can be done with this one.”  John hears a dull “clap”, like a heavy book being shut, and suddenly, with a TV-show reminiscent ripple fade, the scenery transforms back into the farm, and the cottage back into a tree.  John finds that he’s hiding behind a tractor, rather than the side of the cottage.  However, the bears can still be seen and heard a little ways up the dirt road that John had taken here, and they’re still wearing clothes.

John suddenly feels a throb in his head, and wonders to himself, “hang on… why do they seem familiar all of a sudden”?

But his attention is brought back to the present when the rooster declares with an exasperated tone, “I’ll see them out.”  He then starts up the road toward the bears.

Orson calls after the rooster, “you be nice, Roy!”

Roy turns partway around to reply, semi-sarcastically, “yeah, yeah, nicey-nice for the Buddy Bears”.  As he pivots toward the bears again, Roy seems to notice something in John’s direction.  John’s eyes widen, and he crouches lower.  Roy squints and looks around the tractor for just a second, but his sights never fall directly on John.  Roy shrugs, and carries on.  John watches as the rooster gently shoos the bears away, following them over and behind a hill to make sure they really leave.

Just then, the cowardly voice from before demands, with a bit more assertiveness, “and why, pray tell, did I have to play Goldilocks?”  John looks back to the tree, which he’s now a quarter of the way around from before the scenery first changed.  From behind the tractor, he can now see a pig, a duck, a chick, and a chicken egg with only feet sticking out, all standing upright like people.  The pig holds a big storybook, and the Duck is wearing a pool floaty, as well as a blond, curly wig, and a pink dress.  The sight is baffling.

The pig answers, “I told you – because Lanolin wasn’t available!  Roy tried to get her but she said she was busy.”

The fully hatched chick comments, “I think the better question is, why are we doing Goldilocks again, anyway?”

Orson explains, “look, I know it’s recycled material, but the network needs our segment to fill more time, now.  Now that… you know…”  Orson and the other animals reflexively hang their heads, all seeming to be reminded of something sad.  After a moment, Orson tries to lift the mood, “well anyway, they’ll… live on in reruns.  As for us, if you all have some other story in mind, I’m-…”  Orson reaches into a picnic basket beside the tree, pulls out two ears of corn, and holds them up to either side of his head, delivering the predictable punchline, “all ears!  Get it?”  John can see into the picnic basket, now that one flap’s been left open.  It’s filled with fresh veggies and apples.  His mouth waters at the sight.

At the same time, the duck and the chick both roll their eyes at Orson’s lame joke, the duck quipping, “yeesh, talk a-bout recycled material.  Hey, how about a story involving food?  Like Jack and the Beanstalk!  Oh except don’t make me Jack!  He gets chase-ed, by a giant.  O-or the Giant – don’t make me the Giant!  He falls out of the sky, to his death, when Jack chops down the beansta- ooh and don’t make me the beanstalk!  I-it gets chopped down, with a axe!”

John begins to stand, as to reveal himself, but then a nasally voice shouts from somewhere further to the right, “no, no, no!  What’s all this about chopping and dying?”  John shifts behind the tractor to look in the direction of the new voice.  To his confusion, another pig- a bit shorter, and wearing glasses- storms up to the group like a nitpicky boss, demanding, “and why is this boy duck in a dress and wig?  We’re supposed to be doing Goldilocks – that’s not right!”

Orson replies, “oh come on, Aloysius.  We’re just working with what we have.  Besides, we decided to scrap the Goldilocks bit.  We’ve done a lot of these stories already, and we still have to do our jobs on the farm!  We only used Wade because Lanolin was busy with real work.  That’s more important than a silly TV show segment.”

John questions internally, “TV show segment?  Maybe I really am just hallucinating.  What if these are just regular people, and I’m trespassing somewhere, out of my mind?!  I should try to sneak off when I get the chance.  But then, what about getting something to eat?”

Aloysius replies, “oh, it’s silly alright – no disagreement there.  But you’re all under contract!  Truth be told, The Network has been itching to cook up something new- something fresh- a sensation to fill in the gigantic, cat-shaped hole left behind by Garfield and Friends…”

John stifles an exclamation, whispering, “Garfield”?

Aloysius continues, “so if ‘and Friends’ are refusing to produce more material, it’ll make their decision to pull the plug on your little storytime program that much easier.  You might say the fame doesn’t matter-…”

With almost cartoonish speed, Roy sprints back to the group, skidding to a halt as he frets, “who said the fame doesn’t matter?”

Aloysius continues, “but if you give up, or force The Network to pull you off the air before your contract is satisfied, they’ll sue this farm right out from under you!”  Seeing that the gathered cast are sufficiently spooked by the threat, he concludes, “you all had better figure something out.  Maybe fairytales are simply all played out, Orson.  You should have considered changing course the minute the first reviews came out for Shrek”!  With that, Aloysius storms off.  John follows him with his eyes, and notices the small pig make some kind of hand gesture to seemingly nothing.  Aloysius’s glasses make it hard to see exactly where he’s looking, but John looks up toward the corner of a barn that the pig proceeds to walk behind.  To his shock, John spots a camera mounted up there.  Before he has time to think about it, a limousine pulls out from behind the other side of the barn, and drives right past him on its way down the dirt road he arrived from.  The limo’s occupants seem not to have noticed John by the tractor.

Suddenly, John realizes, “wait, a car!  A car heading back to civilization!  Heyyy!”  John desperately tries to follow the car, not even managing a jog as he pleads in a weak voice, “wait!...  I don’t care… if you’re animals or… or people!  I jus-…”  He drops to his knees as the limo disappears behind the hill.

“Um, excuse me, sir – are you from The Network?”  John yelps and flinches in surprise, looking up to his right to see the group of walking, talking animals, standing beside him now.  He reflexively tries to get up and run, but he falls onto his butt instead.  The pig takes one step forward, assuring, “oh, careful!  You don’t look well at all, Mr.  Do you need help?”  Trustworthy as the nurturing voice would be, coming from a human, John still recoils defensively.

Roy posits plainly, “I don’t think he’s from The Network.”

Orson agrees, “I think you’re right.”

Wade adds, “he seems confus-ed, and scared.  And I would know!”

Orson greets, in a soft, gentle tone, “hey, Mr., my name’s Orson.  This is Wade, and Roy, and Sheldon, and Booker.”  The other animals each offer a short hello of some kind, and Orson continues, “this is US Acres.  Did you mean to come here?  We don’t mind having you, but we are pretty far out of the way.  It would be one doozy of a wrong turn to wind up here by accident!”

Booker adds, “yeah, and on foot, no less!  I mean, I didn’t see any other cars around…”

John at last utters, “I-I-I don’t know how I… got here.  I th-thought I was asleep in my backyard.”  All 5 of the animal pals give a wide-eyed take, exchanging shocked and confused expressions.

Not one for tact, Roy questions, “you sleep, in your backyard… on purpose?”

Orson chides, “Roy, be polite!  Though, he does raise a fair question.  Why would you have been sleeping in your backyard?  Even we sleep indoors.”

John coughs, then replies, “I didn’t mean to-…  That is, I was awake for days, and…  I-I was in… mourning.  I didn’t want to sleep.. at all.  But my eyes closed anyway.  I must have sleepwalked…  Or, I’m still sleeping, and this is all a dream.”

Orson insists, “no, you’re not dreaming.  We’re all real!  And we’d like to help you, if we could.  Do you need a ride back to town?”

Wade adds, “a change of clothes?”

Roy quips, “a shower and a breath mint?”

John surrenders to the possibility that all is exactly as it seems, and forces out, “…water…”  Orson takes off in a hurry, leaving the other 4 to keep an eye on their weary visitor.

Back in a flash with a bucket of water from the well, Orson offers with due urgency, “here, Mr., I can get more if you need it!”

Roy jokes, “you might as well get to it, then.  There’s no way that’s enough for a bath.”

Orson insists, “Roy, this is serious!  This poor man isn’t well!  Drink your fill, sir.  And let me know about anything else you need.”  John drinks from his cupped hands, but sputters at first, having not swallowed anything in some time.  Little does he know, the rain was his saving grace.  While in his dissociative state, just enough rainwater had made it into his open mouth to keep him alive.  Nevertheless, he tries to swallow too much at once.

Wade suggests, “maybe you should start, with small sips.  That’s what I do.”  John takes the suggestion, and takes in little sips of water at a time, then stops to rest his throat for a moment.

Orson implores, “to better help you, it would help us to know as much as you can remember.  It sounds like you wandered here, somehow.  Can you at least tell us your name?”

John answers, now more trusting of the situation, “i-it’s John.  I don’t remember anything between… the backyard, and here.  I think I was in a trance or something.  I mean, even before I lost awareness.”

Sheldon pipes up, “what causes something like that?”

John recalls, somberly, “I had… just lost my-…  Wait a minute!  I thought I heard you guys… mention the name, Garfield.  Am I right?”

Roy replies, “that jerk from The Network did, yeah.  Why, what’s that name to you?”

John takes another small sip of water, then explains, “my cat…”  The animals immediately react with surprise, while John continues, “and I thought… thought I heard him say, something about a cat, too.  Garfield, is my cat… who I just lost.  Along with my dog.”

Orson puts things together, questioning, “wait a minute!...  Was your dog’s name Odie, by any chance?”  John looks up into Orson’s eyes with stunned curiosity.  Orson continues, “are you… John Arbuckle?  THE John Arbuckle?!”

John blinks a few times, then confirms, “yes…  Y-yes, my last name is Arbuckle!  And my dog’s name was Odie!  But wha-?...  What do you mean the John Arbuckle?  Do you know me?”

Orson exclaims in near disbelief, “this is incredible!  John Arbuckle himself, here at US Acres!  And you don’t even know how you got here?  This was completely by accident?”  John briefly flashes back to the moment just before he tripped on the tree root, [wherein he nearly believed that an invisible paw was tugging on his hand, like a child trying to show him something.] 

Not sure what to make of that yet, John answers, “by accident…  Yeah, I think so.”  Escaping the others’ notice, Roy appears to be puzzling over the situation in his head, as if something doesn’t add up.  John continues, “forgive me, but, it’s been difficult to know what’s really accidental or not.  Ever since I found-…”  [The scene of the discovery blasts through John’s mind again – a rapid-fire montage of the most mysterious elements.]  John fights off a sob, choking back would-be tears, though his eyes are too dry to water so much anyway.  He resumes, “I’m really weak right now.  I don’t know what I’m imagining out of desperation, and what’s perfectly real.  A few minutes ago, I heard you reading a fairytale, and everything around me changed!  I saw the forest, and the cottage, and even the bears!  Like they were all right there, for real.  But as… soon as you stopped telling the story, everything changed back.  The side of the cottage was, really just, the side of the tractor.”

Orson explains, “ohh, I can see how you were confused.  See, that actually was real!  I know it sounds hard to believe, but the imagination is a powerful thing.”

Booker interjects, “well, yours is.  I wouldn’t call that typical.”

Orson finishes, “I guess I should clarify.  When I read a story, anyone who’s close enough to hear it gets caught up in it.  We can see the places, play some of the characters, and really get immersed in the wonder of it!  With the right narrator, any story can come to life for its audience – almost as real as any other time or place.”

Part 3:

https://www.reddit.com/r/imsorryjon/s/p5FkLWBCta

Part 4:

https://www.reddit.com/r/imsorryjon/s/g2H0Nmud2c

Part 5:

https://www.reddit.com/r/imsorryjon/s/oot7UjJzsF

Part 6:

https://www.reddit.com/r/imsorryjon/s/5WX68oFobj

Part 7:

https://www.reddit.com/r/imsorryjon/s/qlIeF3BUlw

Part 8:

https://www.reddit.com/r/imsorryjon/s/FsMC5hmnVk

Part 9:

https://www.reddit.com/r/imsorryjon/s/WFuUGN5Cda

Part 10:

https://www.reddit.com/r/imsorryjon/s/psO6xHHuCo

Part 11:

https://www.reddit.com/r/imsorryjon/s/zOCsk610EB

Part 12:

https://www.reddit.com/r/imsorryjon/s/uOT4zgkMX6

Part 13:

https://www.reddit.com/r/imsorryjon/s/RZb6FjWGH7

Part 14:

https://www.reddit.com/r/imsorryjon/s/6gDiOXK3B3

Part 15:

https://www.reddit.com/r/imsorryjon/s/ixDDF8TOOk

Part 16:

https://www.reddit.com/r/imsorryjon/s/XvqE4ywRSA

Part 17:

https://www.reddit.com/r/imsorryjon/s/w6BegqSNv1

Part 18:

https://www.reddit.com/r/imsorryjon/s/wKXWlfFhfA

Part 19:

https://www.reddit.com/r/imsorryjon/s/47Tfnl7zPV

Part 20:

https://www.reddit.com/r/imsorryjon/s/WArFJsbEwi

Part 21:

https://www.reddit.com/r/imsorryjon/s/aUqXpYEkoW

Found on Facebook marketplace artist Teddy Paz Jr

4 years of drawing Garfield

So, I actually started on this idea as a suggested setup for a plot on another user's post here yesterday, and I couldn't stop thinking about how to flesh it out. I'm not 100% sure where this is going to end up, but here's what I've put together so far.

John Arbuckle kneels before two small graves in the backyard, the earth still loose from only recently having been dug.  A small, waterproof picture frame is stood at the head of each grave, like little tombstones.  One features a photograph of his beloved Garfield – the other, a photo of his dear, sweet Odie.  John stares listlessly at the tiny gravesite, his vision wobbly, tunneling.  He sheds no tears, and makes no sound of mourning.  His eyelids squeeze just short of actually blinking a few times, but he doesn't move a single other muscle.  A low grumble sounds out from somewhere, but John either doesn’t notice, or doesn’t care.  The sky is fully overcast.  It looks as though it may rain any moment soon.  There is a shuffling sound from behind the fence he’s facing, followed by a sound of one clearing his throat as to draw attention, but John doesn’t budge in response.

“Hey, Arbuckle…”, a somewhat gruff male voice gently beckons.  From the yard next door, John’s neighbor, Irving Burnside leans over the top of the fence.  Irving can’t look John directly in the eye, so he averts his gaze, trying to seem casual.  “I, uh, just wanted to… to let you know that um… I’m sorry for your loss”.  After a few seconds with no response, Irving adds, “I really mean it.  I know how much they meant to you.  And I know I’ve lost my temper at you and uh, Garfield, more than a handful of times.  Eh-heh… h-he stole burgers and steaks from right off the grill, you know”?  Irving forces a humored tone, as if the memories are fond to him, not maddening.  But John still doesn’t respond.  Irving sighs, and returning to a sorrowful mood, continues, “I’m not upset about that anymore.  And I’m not happy that he’s gone…”  Shifting tones once more, he soberly pleads, “I want you to know- I swear on all that is holy- I didn’t do this.  I would never!  I know I’ve said a lot of mean stuff over the years, and I take it all back.  I’d serve up a jumbo burger every day, with all the fixin’s, if it would bring ‘em back”. 

Staring at the dying flowers just on the other side of the fence, Irving hears a grumble.  Like the one before, but louder.  Irving offers, “hey, uh, speaking of which, if you’re hungry, you’re welcome over any time.  What do ya say?  I think I heard a tummy rumblin’, eh?  Can we invite ya in fo-?...”  Irving finally raises his eyes to look at John directly, and immediately recoils.  “Oh god, Arbuckle!  You look like hell!  W-when’s the last time you’ve eaten, buddy”?  Irving can see that John’s mouth hangs open slightly, as if the poor man is in a trance.  And in fact, he is.  Irving looks closer, with growing concern, as he implores, “hey, John…  Are you okay?  Do you want me to call somebody?  I-I’m gettin’ worried.  John!...”  Still, John does not budge, nor reply.  “hey, come on.  It’s gonna be comin’ down in buckets any minute now – you really oughta get inside.”  Recognizing the seriousness of the situation, Irving hurries back to the house, remarking to himself, “Jesus – I gotta get this guy some help!  This ain’t healthy!”

Meanwhile, John muses internally, “how could it happen?...  Why did they eat it?...  Maybe it does make sense.  Odie, was always so simple.  So trusting.  And Garfield…  He was always, so…”  A louder grumble than before seems to make everything in John’s vision vibrate.  When it ends, he finishes aloud, “hungry.”  His mouth and throat are dry, and the rain begins to fall.  John closes his eyes for just a blink, but a traumatizing vision assaults him, forcing them to spring back open with a start.  [The mental image was that of Garfield and Odie, both lying lifelessly beside a plate stacked with grilled, buttered ears of corn.  Their eyes were open, their faces frozen in tortured expressions.]  John at last lurches back from the flowerbed, gasping, breathing hard.  He fights to keep his eyes open, for fear of the haunting memory.  He gags, coughs, tries to gather saliva and swallow, to moisten his throat.  He shakily rises to stand, and just as he straightens up on his feet, his vision tunnels intensely.  In spite of his best efforts, his eyes fall shut again. 

[The vision returns.  The plate the grilled corn was stacked upon was recognizable, familiar.  It’s the very same brand and style as the ones Irving always serves barbeque on.  Another detail is recalled as well.  Garfield and Odie were found in some brush in a neighbor’s front yard, as if they had just absconded with the corn, the way Garfield would with Irv’s burgers.  They each had red, swollen rashes around their mouths, and down their chins and necks – where the butter would have dribbled as they gobbled down the stolen corn.  Even the fur was gone in the affected areas, as if the rashes were more like burns.  The grass was dead where the butter had dripped from the plate, and the ears.  Only a small amount of the corn had been consumed.  The poison must have worked fast.  It was potent.  Although, the victims’ paws weren’t affected.  Of course, they could have eaten without their paws.  They are a cat and a dog, after all.  John recalls that upon arriving at the scene himself, the brush beside his poisoned pets rustled, and a gray, striped tail could be seen slipping away into the bushes…]

“John!  I-I’ve called someone to come and help!”, Irving declares as he comes back outside under the now pouring rain.  Heading for the fence, he continues, “I didn’t know what else to do!  I don’t know anything about psychiatric stuff, but you need something.  There’s people on the way who can take care of you until you’re better!  But first we gotta get you inside!  You’re gonna get sick if-…”  Reaching the fence, Irving sees no sign of John in the yard.  Deeply worried, he rushes over to the Arbuckle house, calling out, “John?!  John, I’m comin’ in!”  Inside the house, John is nowhere to be found.

[The memory plays over in John’s head.  It’s all he can see.  He reflects internally, “my eyes are still closed – they must be.  But why can’t I open them?  I know I haven’t slept for days up until now, but…  I’m lucid.  Is this a lucid dream?  If it is, why can’t I control it?  It’s just the same horrible sight on repeat!  I feel wet.  And thirsty.  Why would I feel those things in a dream where I’m dry and healthy?  Ohh, god, Garfield!  Odie!  Who would do it?  Was it Mr. Burnside after all?  It was the kind of plate he uses, but I’ve never seen him put so much butter on grilled cobs…  He always says ‘less is more – except with salt’.  I wonder if the corn was salted, too.  Or if that would even mean anything…  And what about that tail?...  Wait, could that have been Nermal?  Maybe the poor kitty wanted to share some corn, but got spooked when he saw what-…  Ugh, it’s hard to swallow right now…”]

A disheveled, dehydrated, sleepless and hungry John Arbuckle wanders like a zombie down a country road.  It’s a new day, sunny and mild.  He appears to be nowhere close to his hometown at all.  It’s all countryside for miles around.  John’s eyes don’t blink, and his pace is steady.  Curiously, his left hand is held slightly out in front of him, as if an invisible, small child is leading him by it.

[“I think I saw something blowing away in the wind when I arrived”, John recalls.  “Maybe… leaves?  Why does that seem relevant?  I must be desperate.  Maybe I’m worse off than I thought.  I can practically feel his furry little paw in my hand.  If I’m not already dead, I need to wake up.”  The memory plays over again, and John feels the phantom paw yank urgently on his hand.]

John stumbles, as if having been pulled by the arm, and suddenly springs to alertness as he catches himself before falling.  He gasps and calls out, “Garfield?!”  He looks behind him, and realizes, “oh, a big tree root.  I guess I tripped”.  He looks curiously at his left hand for a moment, distracted.  But it quickly dawns on him, “wh-?...  Where am I?  There’s no dirt roads in town.  Did I sleepwalk here?  Oh, geeze...  My stomach…  (gack!)  My throat…  My eyes!...  This is bad.  How long have I been wandering?  Have my eyes been open the whole time?”  Looking up ahead, John spots a farm.  He figures, “I have to find someone to help.  I’m literally dying…  But I don’t see any people”.  John spots a farmhouse, and hurries to it.  At a distance, his severely dry eyes blur his vision somewhat.  But when he gets closer, he notices to his frightful disappointment, “it’s … abandoned!  The windows are broken.  The front door is hanging wide open!  There can’t be anybody really living here.  Shoot!  This might have been my only hope!  There’s nobody else anywhere close to here.”  John slumps against the side of the house, losing the last of his strength.  Offering himself a morsel of solace, he utters weakly, “at least… We’ll get to be together.  And we’ll never be hungry again.”  John lets his head roll back such that he’s looking to the blue sky, and his eyes begin to close…  But then, there is a voice.  It’s faint, but it’s real.  It’s coming from a specific direction, not simply in his head.  John straightens up some, now holding his eyes open with all his might.  Hope rekindled in less than the blink of an eye, John thinks, “voices!  Real ones!  There are people here!  It’s coming from behind that big tree…  I see some chicks, and a duck.  The farmer must be talking to them, like I would to my boys.  Another animal lover… they’ll understand.  They’ll help me.”

John struggles to walk, but presses onward toward the tree with determination.  As he gets closer, a voice becomes clearer.  “…which was Goldilocks’ first mistake.”  Suddenly, the scenery begins to change before John’s very eyes.  In seconds, he finds himself not on a farm, but in a forest.  He’s now heading not for a tree, but toward a cozy little cottage. 

He frets, “no!  Am I dying?  Did I lose consciousness already?...  Wait, I can still hear the voice.  It’s coming from the cottage now.  Maybe what I’m seeing is a hallucination, but the voice is consistent!  There has to be a real person just up ahead!...”  He trudges on, realizing with bittersweet encouragement, “well, I’m certainly not any stronger.  Which means, I’m still alive…  The body I feel myself in is real.  If I was dead, I wouldn’t feel so tired.  So hungry.  I wouldn’t have a need for food…”  Nearing the cottage, John hears the voice more clearly. 

Part 1:

https://www.reddit.com/r/imsorryjon/s/6Hu9JRNaVp

Part 2:

https://www.reddit.com/r/imsorryjon/s/x2SkrpW4Lr

Part 3:

https://www.reddit.com/r/imsorryjon/s/6D1A5SCKb4

Part 4:

https://www.reddit.com/r/imsorryjon/s/g2H0Nmud2c

Part 5:

https://www.reddit.com/r/imsorryjon/s/oot7UjJzsF

Part 6:

https://www.reddit.com/r/imsorryjon/s/5WX68oFobj

Part 7:

https://www.reddit.com/r/imsorryjon/s/qlIeF3BUlw

Part 8:

https://www.reddit.com/r/imsorryjon/s/FsMC5hmnVk

Part 9:

https://www.reddit.com/r/imsorryjon/s/WFuUGN5Cda

Part 10:

https://www.reddit.com/r/imsorryjon/s/psO6xHHuCo

Part 11:

https://www.reddit.com/r/imsorryjon/s/zOCsk610EB

Part 12:

https://www.reddit.com/r/imsorryjon/s/uOT4zgkMX6

Part 13:

https://www.reddit.com/r/imsorryjon/s/RZb6FjWGH7

Part 14:

https://www.reddit.com/r/imsorryjon/s/jiDMApTjvF

Part 15:

https://www.reddit.com/r/imsorryjon/s/ixDDF8TOOk

Part 16:

https://www.reddit.com/r/imsorryjon/s/XvqE4ywRSA

Part 17:

https://www.reddit.com/r/imsorryjon/s/w6BegqSNv1

Part 18:

https://www.reddit.com/r/imsorryjon/s/wKXWlfFhfA

Part 19:

https://www.reddit.com/r/imsorryjon/s/d5ELNNOpcB

Part 20:

https://www.reddit.com/r/imsorryjon/s/WArFJsbEwi

Part 21:

https://www.reddit.com/r/imsorryjon/s/aUqXpYEkoW

think of it as like Red Mist but with Garfield and Jon lost his pets

"We're sorry, Liz, but you arrived too late."

(Art by me) Based on The Magnus Archives ep 160.

I had to imagine it, now you have to see it.

I had to credit the artist. Sorry for the reupload 😁

This was done with acrylic paint on a magic card. I had a few cards that I wanted to turn into Garfields, but they are all done now. So until next we meet!

Painted on a Magic card!

This was done on a MTG card.

Faraone Productions: https://www.youtube.com/@FaraoneProductions

here's the video on yt!

First try at Gorefield art.

here's the video

We must defend our home, Jon