his tarnished past with phones. The guy is hopelessly unable to hold on to a cell. He routinely loses them within six months of purchase, gets a replacement, changes the number, leaves a message on the old line giving a new number, but again loses his phone, gradually resulting in a second message while the first one remains unchanged. And to Joe, the internet is as deep a mystery as quantum mechanics, inexplicable like magic, or fire. Keeping in touch is difficult.But he retains my number, clearly, and rings me periodically when he's Alabama-bound. He caught me up on how he's moved back to Decatur; how his main squeeze tried to run him down with her car and he fled Louisiana. Typical stuff.
He inquired as to whether or not I'd be blazing through Alabama anytime soon, and I let him down easy. As I spilled the news that "Killer Weed 2" saw DVD release last month, I suddenly realized a glaring oversight. We've shipped DVDs to all principal cast and other contributors like musician Chris Johnson. I was assembling a package for uber-musician Metronome Mike (who remixed our main theme) when 8-Toe'd Joe rang. How could I forget the man himself?
8-Toe'd Joe (pronounced [jon·shur·lee]) inspired the one-shot comic "8-Toe'd Joe & The Army of Toes" and became the template for both a hero in KW1 and a villain in KW2. But foremost, he's a friend. I relish memories of him grinning from behind his partial tooth apparatus, rolling cigarettes, drinking bootleg rum from a jar or carton. Making bongs from his own lung. Entertaining in his sedan-come-living-room. Waving his crutch at the motion-sensitive garage light to keep it on. Mowing off his frickin' toes while tending the lawn. That's Joe.
Well, I've got to make this right. I'll drop something in the mail on Monday. But he loses everything (phones, keys, his toes), so it's necessary to send two copies: one for Joe and one for Joe to misplace.
Matt
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