Of course love is transforming. Hair colors change randomly, pony tails change lengths at will, long-held grudges against absent, drunken, apparently-unable-to-seek police-help-in-searching-for-the killer-of-the-friend-who-was-like-a brother fathers disappear in a single meeting on a bench in a mysteriously morphing park and, most of all, love is gruesomely transforming for the hapless flowers that lose their heads to Mary's clippers. (Or die in fright at the sight of her awful visage.)
Mary Worth is the work of writer Karen Moy and artist Joe Giella and is owned by King Features Syndicate. All images from the comic strip are owned by King Features. This site is meant to critique, parody, and promote Mary Worth and falls under the Fair Use doctrine of copyright law. Personally, I hope that King Features will agree that fan interest in this great strip is a good thing. My only ambition is that somehow my meager efforts might serve to enrich Joe Giella, Karen Moy, and of course King Features Syndicate.
11 comments. Write your own!:
I guess the story is finally over. When Mary cuts her flowers that seems to be the signal.
Giella may not be able to draw a toaster, a hand, a flower or a plate of food, but he is the Rembrandt of smug looks.
Wonder who the next story's blandly written and blandly drawn characters will be?
And still Richie's killer is on the loose. Maybe even tending flowers somewhere.
Hold my garden clippers!... is Mary Worth wearing BLUE JEANS!!?? Trying to remember if we've ever seen that before!?
Indeed love can be "transforming", and obviously so can hair dye, teehee.
FAlse Alarm! False alarm!
They're just polyester slacks.
Mary's clothes are exculsively by Haband.
hold on i saw no cell phone on jenna or mike so how does she know this love is going on
Please God -- let the next strip show Jenna waiting by the phone for another call from Mike ... which never comes.
That would redeem this entire tedious storyline.
Of course love is transforming. Hair colors change randomly, pony tails change lengths at will, long-held grudges against absent, drunken, apparently-unable-to-seek police-help-in-searching-for-the killer-of-the-friend-who-was-like-a brother fathers disappear in a single meeting on a bench in a mysteriously morphing park and, most of all, love is gruesomely transforming for the hapless flowers that lose their heads to Mary's clippers. (Or die in fright at the sight of her awful visage.)
Well, thats finally over, off to retile the kitchen...
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