This is another weird, ADD-riddled take on Halloween. It did the work for me, read it for yourself. I'll use the standard running-commentary format this time.
I'm sorry if this seems redundant, but it seems that around 62% of Chick's comics are devoted to Halloween. It's fertile mockin' ground.
Oh, cool. How long does it take Jack to draw all these in Microsoft Paint?
"For only $50? Why, that's just a low introductory offer! If you call within the next ten minutes, you too can lodge your family at Camp Subtle Satan Reference! Call now."
Isn't he too old to, um, have class parties? Man, that would suck. You're just chilling, watchin' TV, being 46, sippin' a beer.... the phone rings. It's your homeroom teacher. "Bert," she says with a sticky sweet drawl, "You have a stable job and three kids, can you pay for our class party to rent an entire fucking camp? I'm sure it's no bother." You roll your eyes and get the phonebook. I wish I'd never dropped out of third grade, you think to yourself, pull your jeans back up, and go get another beer.
Oh, my god, you're kidding. Why can't these people just do their homework and pass 11th grade before the age of 43?
"Anyone who's anybody will be there! Personally, I won't, because I'm not anybody. I don't think Agent Moby will come either. We'll be back at the prison." -four-toothed grin-
Because 13 people were murdered less than a year ago here, and for some reason it didn't make national news! Or even local news! You don't say. I'd think in gasps too if I rented a vast expanse of land for a suspiciously low price and thought nothing of it.
"Did they get the killer? Holy shit, half my hair fell out. The rest is in a crazy afro around my cap." "They riddled him with bullets, but just got tired of chasing him around and decided they'd go find his body in the morning. Even if he was still alive and running, they went home and had a laugh about it afterwards." You'll see in a minute why it's not that surprising that the police were so blase about, you know, hunting down murderers.
Oh, okay! He ran away. Cool. An obviously supernatural being ran off into the wilderness after killing a bunch of people and was never found. So what? Hey, pass me the TV Guide; when is Rock of Love on?
Oh no, Carrie won't. She'll be locked up in her Prayer Closet because, ironically, her mother's a fundie. ...Dude, Agent Moby isn't liking this. His sharpied-on eyebrows are... furrowed? Maybe?
"What a way to end a party! Then we're going dogfighting! It totally isn't illegal or anything."
It's the Great Pumpkin, Jack Chick! Aww, he has a little pet snake on a leash. Is rotting-pumpkin mold a health concern for him?
"@!!!**! I forgot my chain saw! I can't see a damn thing out of the pumpkin on my head!"
Carrie is an androgynous, elbowless character who stabs cats on card tables. My bad. I guess she won't be in her prayer closet after all.
C R A S H ! Bzzzzz. -Whrrrrrr- *GOD* YAAAAAA!
He even installed himself a break-off Dynamic Entry panel. Vincent Price himself is scared.
Go-go-power-fundies! The mouse makes a cameo in this tract, playing the part of "Giregutor".
Here we are, at the Chick County Apathy Department.
Vinny the Rapist: There's another massacre going down at camp Basil Bub. Aww, we just finished cleaning the last one up. -sigh- Okay, I'll get the baking soda ready this time.
Chief Chokesondonut: Oh no, I'm not wearing my running shoes! Ah, well, we'll just let him run off like last time if I get a bunion or something. Hey, want to go to Whataburger afterwards?"
Oh, no. They lost him again. And Vinny's hat, too. "Holy gawdang, chief, have you been hitting the amphetamines lately?"
He must've run down that gorge. Dang, better luck next time. Okay, let's wrap this up, blah, blah, saints aren't responsible for murder victims, blah. Whataburger time!
What the-? Where's my Fang? Where? What is this?
That's nerve, Satan. You're peeking through windows, and call him a creep?
... wait, he didn't come anywhere. Satan came to him. Or, maybe the kid is thinking that. Or the Devil is a schizo. Anyway, looks like the kid has a disorder that makes him sweat profusely, frown, and emit light when someone says YAAAAA. Pavlov Kid, I guess.
Git offa mah farm! And downchu be comin' back now! Mayjik scene teleport, actuvate!
Pastor, blah religous fantasy Halloween bull. Is that true?
Nope, Joey. What a stupid question! I'm punishing you for saying stupid things to me with a long-winded, unrelated story.
So a huge Heaven Mutiny happened. And then for some reason Jesus assigned like a million names to Satan/Lucifer/Beezlebub/Devil/whatever. Hey, Satan? You can come in and listen along, if you'd like. Don't be a stranger, it's cold out!
-Yawn- Uh, yeah, so Satan.... uh... destroys stuff... and then.... uh...hey, you know what? Jesus made Hell. But he fitted it with a camera, so you can take these neato silhouettes of yourself next to a literal flaming pile of poop. Whose, I don't know.
You probably feel bad for driving 24 miles to get here, and having to park on a pond, and you're the only one here. Okay, now close your eyes and open your mouth.
The window speaks of Satan.
Kids love coming in from the empty void into your home, which is decorated with patterns like "Amoeba Party" wallpaper and "Mornin' Brain" door texture. "Aww, what a cute witch! And a scary devil! And some kind of diabolical shovel-handed monster in a dress holding the door open--you must be a princess! Here, have some M&M's."
Fun and scary indeed.
"As we get closer to the Second Coming, like we have been for the past 1,990 years, satanism will increase. So will human sacrifice! From 0 to maybe .05, or even .15 of a person a year!"
"It started in Jolly Old England, where those wacky Brits all carried Ankhs around and had large noses." I think I've seen this in a Monty Python skit before.
That night, druids would walk past a huge crocodile-skin purse, a milk waterfall, and over a piano keyboard into a time portal, where they stole women from the '50s.
Hi ho! Hi ho! Gath'ring sacrifices we go!
They would leave a smirking pumpkin, which would protect the house from imaginary death fairies that don't exist. Boy, people sure were gullible in 794 BC!
"Witchcraft is exploding among teens today, which is why I've included this graphic of a biker looking around a building where clearly witchcraft exploded some teens."
Satanic human sacrifices are a slap in God's face, and they hurt a lot if you're the victim, too!
Something that predates Christ is mocking it? I dunno, I'd think it's the other way around.
Jesus: Durr, look at me, I'm a Druid, durr. Hey guys, watch this!
Satan's making an offer you can't refuse. That giant band-aid on his shoulder is there for a reason. If you have lived in the United States of America for more than a month, you already know what it says. Cue 3:16.
If you are extremely gullible, but loyal, you will reign with Jesus forever in his Moon Castle!
But if you're a dummy, well, we don't want you! Go think for yourself! Humph!
"Laughing place"? Um, okay. Jack, stop watching Ghostbusters, get your stuff together, figure out a consistent way to draw Satan, then draw the tract.
"You violently disemboweled me at a class Halloween party with a chain saw to make me burn in fire forever! I.... I can't even find a phrase intense enough to express my anger! How about... You rat!"
"Got the picture" looks like a pun you haven't seen the other end of. A reference to his comics, maybe.
What? All that murderer buildup, and we don't even get a resolution? Cheap!
So, did the Chick County Apathy Department do anything about those yearly massacres? Did they enjoy their Whatachicken sandwiches? Will Bert get a refund on the campsite, and will he graduate fourth grade?
Who knows. If these little subplot tangents can't resolve themselves in a single comic, there's no way they'll be resolved elsewhere.