Age: 40. Height 6'4". Weight: 275 lbs. BMI: Not a fucking clue.
I'm not a writer, but I play one on the internet.
I've had a disturbing obsession with comics from before I can remember. As a kid, I was actually pretty convinced that if I got mad enough I would turn into the Hulk. As a gawky twelve-year old, I told the kids at school that if I concentrated hard enough I could make my fist like unto a thing of iron. As a buck-toothed teen, I used to lie in bed and dream of joining the New Mutants and using my mind powers to make Dani Moonstar and Illyana Rasputin fall desperately in love with me. And before I fell asleep, I would send a silent prayer into space in the hope of being abducted by aliens. That would have been so cool. Not the probing kind of aliens, mind you. The aliens I was praying to were more of the Starfire variety.
Nowadays, I ride the train to work and think about smashing people in the face with a hammer. I think about the carnage that a seven foot unstoppable killing machine could wreak among the cubicles of my pleasant open plan office space. I think of throwing that annoying prick in human resources through a plate glass window and hearing the scream stop abruptly, nine stories down. I think about making the world pay for what it's done to me. For what it's taken from me.
Then I write all that stuff down and send it to some guy named Gabe in Hong Kong.
Then I have a sandwich.
Faster than you can say Jack Robinson, Gabe sends me back illustrations of bone-crushing violence that would curl your hair and freeze your blood. Except….. my seven foot unstoppable killing machine is now a big pink bunny rabbit.
So who's the crazy one now, eh? EH?
Um. Yeah. I guess I might still be the crazy one. But Dani Moonstar still loves me.
Sam Little, Oslo, Norway
writer, THE HAMMER at zudacomics.com