Mr. Topp and the Big Bad Blog

We are at the pub. The kitchen has closed too early, but the landlord allows us to order pizza. So we are still at the pub.

Paul arrives with a singular goal: to achieve the Universal Fist Bump. That is to say, to enjoy a fist-bump with every person present in the pub.

Several of these terrorist-fist-jabs later, something goes wrong: Paul’s hand develops a mind of its own.

Finding it also has the power of flight, it proceeds to detach itself from Paul’s arm and engage in an evening of disembodied fist-jabbing…