1905 felt like the year the automobile decided to grow up and take responsibility for itself, and that maturity showed clearly in the Cadillac Model D, a car that treated precision not as a luxury but as a moral principle. Built by Cadillac under the quiet, exacting influence of Henry
Ms Snailhead arrives at Comic Con ZANABIA exactly the way she believes destiny intended. Slowly. Deliberately. Applause-ready. She wears a full, modest, perfectly tailored pink latex suit—elegant, dignified, and shimmering just enough to suggest effort without desperation. On her head sits a crown that reads “Ms ZANABIA”, handcrafted by
When the Doberman Heads arrive at Comic Con, nobody panics. Everyone straightens up slightly. Even the confetti seems to fall in a more disciplined manner. Tall, handsome, impeccably groomed, the Doberman Heads are the official police force of Zanabia. Their uniforms are sharp, pressed, and serious—except today, when each
Papa Woolybay arrives at Comic Con ZANABIA later than everyone else—and exactly on time. Still recovering from his fracture, he is no longer in the wheelchair. Today, he walks with crutches. Not ordinary ones. These are Comic Con crutches—polished, patterned, and somehow cooler than most footwear present. He
Mama Woolybay loves Comic Con. She just doesn’t love everything that happens before it. Weeks before the event, her mind becomes a carefully unmanaged festival of thoughts. Costumes. Snacks. Comfort. Children. What if it rains? What if it doesn’t rain? What if someone forgets to eat but insists
Okay. Okay okay okay. This was not on the schedule. Did I approve a Hummer? I did not approve a Hummer. I remember approving balloons. Eco-friendly ones. Why is there royalty? Focus, Blenchy. Breathe. Count. One, two—why are the unicorns on the roof? They’re… they’re dressed as
Mr Dragonfly Head does not arrive at Comic Con ZANABIA. He announces gravity and then lets the universe catch up. This year, the ground vibrated gently as a massive Hummer rolled in—polished, respectful, and somehow humble despite its size. Standing proudly on top were the Unicorn Heads, his loyal
When the Warmice family arrived at Comic Con, Zanabia’s temperature dropped by exactly one degree—and morale rose by ten. Papa Mr Warmice wore a sleek black jumpsuit with silver zips, confident but relaxed, like someone who knows where all the snacks are hidden. Mama Ms Warmice, effortlessly stylish,
No one saw him enter Comic Con ZANABIA. There was no announcement. No registration badge drama. No confused volunteer chasing paperwork. One moment the plaza was loud with feathers, capes, and existential costumes—and the next moment, he was simply there. A Mammoth Head. Perfectly Zanabian. Impossibly calm. He wore
The Peacock Head prepares for Comic Con the way others prepare for weddings, negotiations, and minor wars—months in advance. Sketches. Fabrics. Mood boards. Opinions. Strong ones. Peacock Heads are admired in Zanabia for beauty, confidence, and the ability to enter a room as if it personally invited them. Comic
The Tigerhead does not usually attend Comic Con for fun. He attends for dignity. Tall, well-dressed, calm to the point of intimidation, Tigerheads are known for strength, precision, and never asking where the washrooms are—even if they desperately need to. Comic Con unsettles him every year because it is
For Blenchy, Comic Con is not an event. It is a performance review conducted by the universe. As the unofficial caretaker, referee, organizer, mediator, and occasional accidental hero of Zanabia, Blenchy spends most of the year telling others to be themselves. Comic Con, unfortunately, asks him to do exactly that—