TRANSCRIPT: This is visual description of the comic, for purposes such as accessibility and internet searches.
(A car drives by a truck stop near dusk. The art style is a limited color attempt
at print comic looks by Christopher. Small intertitle boxes establish the location.)
INTERTITLE 1: SWIFTON PETROL & VICTUALS
INTERTITLE 2: EXIT 62, GR-9
INTERTITLE 3: 45 YEARS AGO
(Close up of the cars tires as one violently pops. The story's title is in white off-kilter lettering.)
TITLE: KINGFISHER TALES PRESENTS "A GOOD TURN"
(View through the windshield, of a small family. Mom is in the passenger side looking
concerned, hectoring dad. Dad is ragey and stiff. A cat-faced teen lurks in the back seat.)
MOM: God, Lenny, let's just stop.
DAD/LENNY:It's a biker joint, Maude!
TEEN GIRL: Sounds cool.
(Closer shot focused on Lenny and his daughter. He's cranky, she's sly.)
LENNY: Margot Dee Bianca, if you set one foot inside there, I will kill you faster than these scumbags can.
TEEN/MARGOT: I love you, daddy.
(Lenny and Maude are in the truck stop, and it is indeed infested
with bikers. Lenny looks nervous and Maude clings to his arm.)
BIKER MAN: Where's Victor, love?
BIKER LADY: Corr, it's two weeks? Sharon again.
LENNY: *ahem* Beg pardon, does anyone here have a spare jack?
(Margot has come inside, and in the foreground Lenny and Maude react. A biker wolf whistles.)
MARGOT: What? I needed to use the loo.
(Lenny raises a fist to the biker and rages on him. Maude escorts Margot to the restrooms. A biker bystander is amused.)
LENNY: You shut your goddamned mouth you filthy degenerate! That child is fifteen years old!
MAUDE: Move it, girl.
(In the shadowy back hall to the restrooms, a biker dude is necking with
a biker lady - or is he drinking blood? Margot is in the foreground.)
(Close up of Margot's face. Realization dawning? Her reaction is not extreme, but is visible.)
(Hey is that Vitus? His eyes glow in the dark and he is biting his hand with little sharp teeth, bloody.)
(Vitus has hastily wiped away blood and is trying to excuse himself
in his dissembling way. His companion is more frank, flipping the bird.)
VITUS/"VICTOR": Ah, pardon us, a bit risqué for public, I suppose--
SHARON: Sod off, bourgies.