Are you ready for a love so heart-gripping, poignant and spellbinding that it moves the disillusioned to A New Hope, or as I call it, Star Wars? Well, too bad, because what you're getting is "Lost Interlude", a story about a control freak who abuses the mentally unwell! Here she arrives on the docks of a new town, with just a narrow suitcase to her name.


When sister Nan says "we practically live in the place" she obviously means "we literally live in the place". Enjoy your new bed over the hood vent!


Most of the people who come into this restaurant are well-dressed and articulate, but this new stranger is wondefully different! He's a slob


Whoa, disheveled AND totally broke? Be still my heart! How is he still single??


Maybe he's sick, or maybe a woman staring thirstily at him while he washes dishes for apparently the very first time is making him nervous? Or maybe it's the guy standing there shaking his fist threateningly at him?


I feel-- very-- tired... so very tired... of hearing you talk about yourself and your loser dad.


Lifehack: If you're feeling dizzy or unsteady on your feet, perch precariously on the piling of a dock, as close to the edge as you can possibly get. You'll probably fall safely onto the dock, probably. Probably!


Or not, probably!

Honestly, it 100% looks like he jumped. Who could blame him? He saw his chance to get away from this dame & he made a break for it!


Oh, well, better luck next time buddy.


Sure, losing consciousness is usually the sign of serious head injury and needs to be treated as soon as possible, but she just gets so horny looking at his eye tremors, she can't help but take him straight home, where she rents a room on his behalf, then chops off his right foot to prevent escape gives him her brother-in-law's pajamas. Phew!! Now she can finally watch his eye tremors in privacy!


That's right, just go to sleep. I'll be sitting here... watching... waiting... go right ahead and go to sleep.

Well? What are you waiting for? Go to sleep! Those eyes ain't gonna tremor themselves, mister!


This is absolutely the face of someone thinking "please, God, let this head injury be so traumatic I never wake up"


Sure, we COULD take him to a doctor, but this horny waitress seems to think he'll be OK, so I guess she knows best!


After finally getting around to asking his name, they both realize he can't remember! But it's probably just that tired-induced amnesia that's going around. A little sleep and it'll all come back to you... just tuck you in... nice and snug... snugger... snuuuugggggerrrr... now you be good and get some sleep, and when I'm done at work I'll check to make sure you still have a little blood flow to your limbs with these snugly-wrapped blankets! Don't worry, a little numbness is normal!


Hey, why not forget about the hospital? He's forgotten everything else!!

This woman has a real problem with hospitals, or maybe she just wants to see what happens when someone with a concussion tries to act totally normal. Will he start bleeding from the ears? Let's find out!

ps I like her milk moustache in this panel


Oh, don't think she hasn't all ready staked claim on you for the next couple of millennia, pal.


Yes, Mark is the perfect name for him, as in "I saw this guy walk into the cafe and immediately marked my territory on him". Incidentally I'm pretty sure this is the first time anyone's actually told us our heroine's name, halfway through this 14 page story.


This point is probably where you'd usually think our heroine, Bette, has done a heel turn as she tries to actively prevent him from recovering his memory, but since she's avoided getting him professionaly medical help this entire time, I'm not sure there's any heel to turn on here.


There's insecurity and then there's whatever the hell is going on here.


I mean the guy has been falling over in dead faints since they met him but sure, this time you'll convince Bette to take him to the hospital. Not that anything's stopping anyone from taking him themselves, or him getting into a cab and going to the hospital on his own.


So Bette's solution to her nagging sister is to drag Mr. Sick in the Head away, presumably in the belief that a dead boyfriend is better than no boyfriend at all.


Yes, nothing clears up a traumatic head injury quite like a shitty job washing dishes. Then again, she's probably right; all that worry and tension will be forgotten along with everything else.


I'm no psychiatrist, but I'm pretty sure that this is classic Munchausen Syndrome by Proxy, except that unlike most victims, Mark is aware he's being actively kept from going to the hospital but doesn't seem to mind all that much.


C'mon baby, let's get that marriage license, so we can immediately start having children that I can slowly poison over a long period of time, just enough to make them completely dependent upon me forever! Uh, I mean, so we can get on the William-Sonoma gift registry.


Well, like I always say, you can ignore your amnesiac boyfriend's random blackouts up until the point he sends you straight out the memory hole! Then it's all over, ambulance city!


Well, there you go, that's his backstory. Something anyone could've pieced together in about 5 minutes if Bette wasn't constantly standing behind him loudly reading excerpts from movie magazines to distract him and everyone else.


Give it up, doc. If anything you should put armed guards outside his hospital room door or she'll be sneaking him out dressed in an old housedress and wig.


"sob... if anything happens to him... like he remembers he's all ready married..."


He's back, baby! And you better believe he's gonna ream her out spending weeks keeping him from going to the hospital to get proper medical treatment!


Uh, I mean, you better NOT believe it. Because that's not what's happening.

I wonder if he cares that his name is actually Sidney, not Mark?


And so the story comes to an end, with Bette desperately trying to suck Mark's, I mean Sidney's, brains out through his mouth. Well, you can't say he wasn't warned!

Yeah, this seems like a massively bad decision on old what's-his-name's part, but his brain probably has the consistency of Jell-o pudding after what he's been through so whatever.

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