This scenario is typical. Grandpa has a new job as bullet-bait in a warehouse, unaware that Peter has designs on his happiness. The artist takes unusual liberties with the genre; the old folks are drawn like Ghosts, Peter is the only one who looks real – and he puts his foot up on a speech balloon, which really calls attention to the medium.

Is there a rule that you have to call your spouse “mother” if you’re wrinkly-crinkly and haven’t had sex in two decades?

You suspect the artist was required to draw in wrinkle lines on Mother’s hand, lest people think some sort of brittle-boned monkey-love would follow from this episode. But we know what happened. “So believe I’ll be able to go to work tonight,” he says. No doubt, sir. No doubt. Twenty minutes later he emerged from the bathroom wearing his old raccoon coat, and nothing else.

Peter Pain reacts with murderous rage, and reveals the limitations of his power; he can inflict pain, but apparently not in sufficient doses to kill anyone. This would violate union rules in the Bilious Sprite Guild. In any case, Grandpa returns to work, spitting out a mouthful of notes, and Peter dives towards the logo in an act of kamikaze desperation. He also swears profusely: I’da had him at my mercy if it hadn’t been for that goddamn Ben-Gay.

Note: Ben-Gay is part of a medicinal group called “A widely offered rub-in.”