Breaking and Entering for the Lord Isn't Illegal

This is a story of a woman who never locks her fucking gate, and stupid account of how useful Chick thinks his tracts are. God almighty. Of course, as always, it doesn't resolve the little subplots Chick sets up for no reason; and has a miserable ending that's "happy" because even if you die a horrible, violent death, it's okay, because your family won't miss you if you're 'with the Lord'. Typical fundie "value life" bullshit, where you can't abort a 'living baby' but the only reason anyone dies in these tracts is so the main character feels remorse for not leading the deceased to the Magic Sky Fairy. Ugh. Creepy; a good reminder to lock your doors at night.

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Help! There's a severed hand holding the Constitution, and there's blood everywhere! Call an ambulance! He even drew the limp sinew. Gross.

0/`It's a beautiful day in the neighborhood, a beautiful day for converting.o/`
Finally, some sense adrift in this vast sea of watery, sludgy bullshit.

Wait--wait! She knows her soul needs to be saved? And she refuses his advances? Um, yeah. It's not that atheists don't believe in God, it's that they do believe in the Christian God but just hate him. I'm glad someone in this world understands atheism! Funny how it's someone who doesn't go outside, ever. God works in mysterious ways.

Where did the hair on the sides of his head go?!

So what's the problem? I'm with this lady 100%. This outright proves that Fundieism is it's own religion, nothing like real Christianity. Everything she says up until the You're sick! makes perfect sense. It's pretty hard to see her as a villain right now, honestly.

It sounds like you're ashamed of the gospel? No, idiot, she just said that you cheapen the gospel. Why is this so hard for you to understand? She's a functioning member of society, so obviously not a part of your merry cult. Probably in the middle of running errands, too. See, your life can revolve around things other than standing outside all day handing out propaganda. That sounds like fun! "You mean we can buy groceries, play soccer, eat sandwiches, all that good stuff? Really? Oop, here comes a heathen. Hey, you're going to rot in eternal fire....blah..."

Well she must know what she's talking about, because she sleeps on a cloud. Or, come to think of it, a big pile of raw dough. Hehe. I'd hate to be her in the morning, I'd start my day by clawing myself out of a sticky, suffocating risen-dough mess, peel my oily clothing from myself, and go eat Wheaties for breakfast.

I'm glad that this encounter with Fundie Fred just meant so much to her that she woke up out of her sleep to complain about it, then fell asleep mid-sentence.

I pretend the panel goes all wavy, and that song that goes "memories... light the corners of my mind, fuzzy water-colored memories..." comes on.

This is so convoluted. Almost like the whole crucifiction process.

Why can't UPS be more like this? Delivering packages from the very depths of Hell right to my door! Oh, I know why. Because it's hard to move in million-degree heat when you're wearing rain ponchos and those weird hunting hats with the wooly ears. Plus, the logistics of driving those big buses through all those tormented souls and Earth's crust are a nightmare.

"Kyle Broflovski began his arduous journey to 236 Oak St, where the last person alive named Mildred lived. He had some trouble navigating through the self-explanatory Caverns of the Lost, wading through what sounded like thunder and people screaming 'fuck', and the whole cavern smelled like farts." Jesus warned us about a lot of things. He didn't bother to warn me about the inherent dangers of driving a car while eating a poorly-made sandwich though, so I do it anyway guilt-free.

God's love gift? Please stop calling it that. It calls rape to mind.

"We love you, King Kong, we love you!" Said the souls, weeping and gnashing their teeth.

The messengers continued on their neat, gently-sloping stone staircase out of hell that for some reason the souls haven't considered using.

HAHAHA. I wonder where this stone trap door out of hell leads? It looks like Arizona, or Utah.

"The journey is almost over. In time they will reach their destination, and a new generation of Emperor penguins will replace them in the cycle of life."

They had to walk on foot all the way from the entrance to Hell to somewhere in Connecticut? That's mean. Penalty for using the Emergency Escape staircase, I guess.

Looks like she won't need to wait for a mansion in heaven; she's already got one.

"Boromir, how come you always deliver the letters? I mean, I can do it too if I had the chance. Let me do it next time." Faramir isn't going inside the house with him because he's on patrol for cops.

"Animal cwackews in my soup! Animal cwackews loop-dee-loop!" Poor woman turns into Shirley Temple in her dreams.

Pastors should know that calling people past 9pm is impolite. It's downright rude to call them at 3:13 in the morning to thank them for contributions to their church.

EEEK! There's an imposing moonlit figure about to break into my house! Help me Jesus!

"Aw, shit, it smells like sulphur! I'm never eating burritos this late again!"
Why is everyone so rude to her? First the nocturnal pastor, then Kyle just up and barges in through her window and starts yelling at her. I'll call it... A Fundie Christmas Carol.

She's so cool about them just walking into her house. I'd flip out and start cleaving him with a fireplace shovel. Then see if my expensive electronics are all still there.

Wake up! Wake up! You're being robbed!

She should stop using the evil tranquilizer not because she has nightmares, but because
a) she sporadically woke up to complain about Chick Tract fundies,
b) it dulls her senses so much that she can't tell when her windows break and messengers from Hell come into her house, and
c) she woke up pregnant and with her hair in rollers with an 11th Commandment on her bed.

Well, it's more romantic than burning your name in her lawn.
'Atta boy, blame everyone who didn't lead you to Christianity, the majority religion wherever you live.

Ah, fundie love.

Stupid dog! They're not feeding you to growl at the intruders after they left!
"Hey, Boromir, let's go home and play Quarters."

Blaming her when they 'die in their sins' or whatever, that sucks. I guess a true friend scares you into being a slave for an imaginary being.


This sounds really contrived. The poem should've ended five lines ago, now this sounds awkward. Stop writing it, now.

DJ Higgins, why would you do this to your fellow man? Why do you hate us?
I imagine him sitting at a turntable, rapping:
"Rob the jewelry store, tell em make me a grill
Y-y-you-you didn't innerduce me to Je-je-jesus wickiwaw wickiwahwaw REMIX DeeJAY Hig-gu-gu-gins!"

"It seemed so real! I'm wet and shaky. Wait, where is my TV?"

She's just now noticing the hole in the window where the burglars escaped.

Mildred, assuming you are, as you say, Christian, in all likelihood Frances is already some denomination of some Abrahamic religion. Something tells me she's not Shinto. No need to tell her random facts about Jesus.

Blah, blah, 3:16.
Why is the accompanying panel to 3:16 always meaningless?

What just happened? Oh, I see. God's an ass. He decided to reveal all this to her after her friend died, so she'll feel guilty about this for the rest of her life. Why does God torture people who are already worship him? Just because they're foils for fundamentalists in the first three panels?

People don't "die instantly" in car accidents, they "die on impact". "Frances was okay, but a few minutes after the crash she realized what happened and up and died."

And no, she wasn't 'afraid' to tell her, it either slipped her mind or Frances was Christian anyway.

Okay, that blew. Why this undue anguish? The entire point is that you have to accept Jesus as your savior, right? Well, Mildred already did. So what then? Her friend dies, just so she learns a lesson. A loving God, you say?

What's the point of 'sharing the gospel' with someone who already adheres to that religion? That's stupid. That's like saying, 'you have to water these flowers every day,' but some one else watered them today, and you have to water them anyway.

What was the point of this tract? To make existing Christians suffer, even the imaginary ones. Pfft.

Chick should stop wasting panel real estate to advertise and just buy a billboard.

I've Chickitized Myself

Aside from the nose, this is what I'd probably look like in Chick's weird world. Actually, if I were in there I'd have the trademark Villified JewTM Nose. Eh, whatever. Go click on my profile pic and check it out.

Well, this isn't a true Chick parody, but I'll have another one up soon.

Hallowhat?

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?
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"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.

Visual Parody: Back From the Dead?

I thought I'd try something different. This time, there are no captions; just a photoshopped tract. Legal things: the images are (C) Jack Chick.

The original tract is here. Now onward, to mail! (Of funk, NASCAR, and Jesus.)

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