Poor Gothbat. Such a tormented existence...

Gothbat, Reanimator, part 2! (Poor Gothbat. Poor Herbie. Poor...err..nameless straight man.)

What young Gothbat hasn't daydreamed of raising the dead in the basement? (Okay, this is less classically goth, and more just silly, but I got a kick out've it. And is that a cute dead fish, or what?)

Well, it's official. I can't stop drawing Gothbat. In this third Random Interlude, a normally cheery and upbeat Gothbat broods over the loss of a close friend, alas. (Oh, the humanity!)

I realize that I am probably the only person who finds this amusing, but I feel an obligation to repay the debt to society that I incurred by writing all that Really Really Bad angst-ridden poetry in my teen years. And I confess, I wanted a chance to draw Gothbat again.

It was one of those evilly whimsical days. I was just in a mood to compile all the cliches of the weird little sub-genre I could think of, and out came a weird little albino gothbat. It was weird little fun.