SEEN THAT LOGO SOMEWHERE BEFORE
Blue Sun is everywhere. Just try to escape that logo – everywhere you go in the ‘verse, you’ll still see it. On coffee cans, foodstuffs, billboards, posters, computer systems, biotech tools – heck, you might even catch the logo in the corner of a wave transmission, since they’ve got their fingers into the communication industry. Their reportedly long, blue fingers… what, don’t tell us you haven’t heard the rumors? Next you’ll be sayin’ you haven’t heard the one about them putting subliminal messages in the Oaty Bars ads.
If you can’t beat ’em (and trust us, when it comes to Blue Sun, you can’t), you oughta join ’em. With this strapping black cap featuring the ubiquitous Blue Sun logo, you’d fit in on just about any planet in the ‘verse. Handy for those times when you really need to blend in with the local population. Not that a good, upstanding consumer of Blue Sun products would have any reason to be avoiding the lawmen, or anything like that.
On a dark, haunted night, a Russian oligarch dares a circle of international chefs to play the samurai game of 100 Candles--where each storyteller spins a terrifying tale of ghosts, demons and unspeakable beings--and prays to survive the challenge.
Inspired by the Japanese Edo period game of Hyakumonogatari Kaidankai, Hungry Ghosts reimagines the classic stories of yokai, yorei, and obake, all tainted with the common thread of food.
First course: With bad consequence, a ramen chef refuses to help a beggar, and a band of pirates get more (and less) than they were bargaining for after their encounter with a drowning woman turns ghastly.
Hungry Ghosts is cooked up by the infamous author and chef, Anthony Bourdain (Kitchen Confidential, Emmy-Award winning TV star of Parts Unknown) and acclaimed novelist Joel Rose (Kill, Kill, Faster, Faster, back again from their New York Times #1 best seller, Get Jiro!). Joining them this issue are stellar artists Alberto Ponticelli and Vanesa Del Rey, with amazing color by Jose Villarrubia, and a drop-dead cover by Paul Pope