Poor old Grandfather Beardcombe, my little wildman puppet. The only one of my Appleheads from my very first blog post who survived into anything approximately finished.
And here he is, exposed to the elements, finally rotting away. Surrounded by slug trails I suspect the poor old fellow has been half eaten, while the elements dissolve what is left of him.
Rest in peace old dude, may your spirit manifest in some other weird and wonderful way.
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