Huevos of the Rancheros

This sort of thing is what happens when you’re trapped on a food production line and have to keep your brain cells from dying slowly due to malnutrition. You start conjuring up all kinds of bizarre things. Like gun-toting cowboy eggs. And then the idea breeds, and won’t leave, and you end up actually writing it down. And then you end up here.

Decided to share some of the prelim artwork that’s been done; obviously not finalized or anything – hell, the character’s names keep changing and the “rules” they abide by are constantly in flux at this point, so how can anything really be “final”? – but I still think they’re pretty amusing.

 

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The Huevo Hombre isn’t going to get to finish that sarsaparilla…

Here’s the opening panel; the Huevo Hombre has just settled down for a nice cold drink, when – dun dun dun! – a bagel busts in to warn him that the Bad Apple Gang are in town and up to no good! Oh noes!

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In case it’s not clear, the Queso Kid is a scrambled egg patty.

Here’s my original two characters; The Queso Kid was actually first, but the Huevo Hombre proved more amusing in my workplace shenanigans (Yes. While the line was stopped, I picked up some of the food pieces and started making them talk. I was that bored.) and, according to my pet artist, is easier to draw expressions for, so he’ll be starring in the initial outing. Their guns shoot ketchup and relish, by the way. (Not pictured is the Huevo Hombre’s dairy cow and faithful steed, Horchata.)

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Sour, Wormy and Washington, the Bad Apple Gang.

The Bad Apple Gang arose because, of course, every western needs an evil gang for our right-minded cowboys to blow away. Or cover in condiments, as the case may be. Wormy’s the oldest, and the leader… and is, of course, rotten to the core. Sour just has a bad attitude, and being the middle brother, tends to just do as big brother says. Washington, the youngest, is a bit of a coward and isn’t really into the whole “bad guy” thing, but is generally bullied into going along, or finds himself unable to abandon his brothers when they need him to keep them safe.

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Mayor Jamon. One part Boss Hawg, one part Mayor of Townsville. And one part ham.

Mayor Jamon is a bit of a spaz. For some reason I picture him talking like a cross between Cleveland Brown and the Mayor of Townsville. He’s not very bright, but he certainly thinks of himself as the bee’s knees; most of the time he’s inadvertently causing trouble by participating in harebrained schemes to elevate his personal image, usually failing spectacularly. And yes, he’s wearing a monocle, a bowler and pinstripe pants. That ham has style, baby. Or at least thinks he does.

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How convenient that there’s a sign to point the way…

This one is just a test sketch of the main street. The Bad Apples are hiding out in the mine, of course.

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“You’ve got to help me recover the Secret Sausage Stash!”

Haven’t decided if that’s going to be used for the Mayor asking for help, or when the stash is returned and the plot unveiled. Either way, it’s Jamon fluttering about while the Hombre appears nonplussed. And why a bunch of sentient food products are having a festival celebrating sausage, I have no idea. Also if the sausage is also sentient, that’s going to get real awkward, real fast.

 

Anyway. Just dropping some stuff on here. Let me know what you folks think in the magic box below, if you’re of a mind… or just ignore the crazy person. XD Your call.

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