Dark Side Of Tom, Jerry & Sylvester Original

There was a time when the world ran on slapstick logic when pain bounced back, when explosions ended in soot black faces and blinking eyes, when no one ever really lost. Tom chased Jerry, failed, reset, and tried again. Over and over. It was a loop without consequence.

Until one day, the loop broke.

No one remembers exactly how. Some say it was neglect the house abandoned, the laughter gone, the rules forgotten. Others say the characters themselves grew tired of never winning, never ending. Either way, something shifted. The world stopped resetting.

Tom and Sylvester stand as remnants of a decayed cartoon universe no longer elastic, no longer immune. Their bodies tell the story: torn fur, hollowed flesh, dripping edges that feel less like injury and more like rot that never heals. The ink scratches and crosshatching give them a texture that feels brittle, as if they could crumble as easily as they could move.

They didn’t team up out of friendship. They teamed up because hunger replaced rivalry.

Without the rules that once protected them, pain became real and so did need. The endless chase turned into something desperate. Jerry wasn’t just an opponent anymore; he was the last thing small enough, fast enough, alive enough to remind them of what they used to be and what they had lost.

Catching him wasn’t a punchline this time.

It took time. Planning. Silence. The kind of patience they never needed before. And when they finally did it when Jerry stopped moving there was no reset. No cut to black. No laughter.

Just quiet.

Size A4.