While Greg deliberates whether 'tis nobler to perchance to be or not to be afiddlin' with the collar-eth on yon beast of canine propensity...
Mark is totally losing his shit.
Greg somehow maintains his balance as he prissily crosses his fully-trousered legs and does his best Sir Laurence Olivier impression. It all ends with Mark, screaming and terrified, being whisked off to eternal flames by a hell beast:
Ha, ha. Sibling rivalry. It'll get you every time, nicht wahr?
But all laughing aside, we must now confront the issue of Greg's pants affectation. In the first panels, he still looks like an ancien regime French courtier. (Please ignore the easy chair covered in buttons and/or open sores behind Greg as it veers off in ten dimensions...)
But mirabile dictu the rolls are gone in the subsequent panels! Could it be the artist as a young man got sick of drawing the rolled-up pantaloons? Or did someone helpfully explain to him, in mid-drawing, that the puffy-trouser look was infinitely GAY and said artist immediately buckled under to heterosexist stereotypes? Only time travel will tell!
Next week: the Johnson brothers fight Super Crow!
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