Every once in a while when John and I are doing a particularly wimpy job of coming up with a comic, we hear a knocking at the door. We ignore it at first as we have more important matters to attend to, but the knocking persists. “We’re not buying anything,” we yell, hoping to be left alone, but still it persists. “We’re busy. Go away,” we say, and finally it stops, and we go back to scouring the internet for the slightest hint of inspiration. Then a few minutes later, we hear a tapping at the window and turn to see what it is just as a trumpet fanfare announces the patron saint of Ready Soup, Groose. Arms crossed, he stands on the ledge of John’s third story window, starring at us with his half closed eyes and gives us a rightfully smug grin. Cautiously, I walk over to the window to open it and let him in. With a snort, he dismisses my welcoming gesture as we already squandered our chance to have him grace the room with his presence and instead wordlessly delivers us a comic through Groosec Groosmission (its similar to psychic transmission, but much cooler.) Then, he leaps backward into the open air, falling out of sight. We rush over to the window, expecting to see his lifeless corpse splattered across the pavement below, but nothing is there. Instead, we hear the call of a great black bird as it flies towards the sun.

This exact scene happens about three times a month. You’d think we’d start opening the door.

Fun bit of Ready Soup history: we do actually hold Groose up as our patron saint. Back when we wrote our first comic featuring him, our followers tripled in one day. It still stands as the most dramatic rise in readership we’ve ever had.