The monolithic signs of an arbitrary, yet quirky State Highway Department have led Ziggy to cope through drunk driving. And check out that cuh-razy windshield!
In this panel, Ziggy has shrunk to Lilliputian levels that have brought his suction-cupped feet ever closer to this filthy porch and left him jumping for the doorknob. His mind, thankfully, remains large enough to contemplate the puzzling Paraprosdokian his erstwhile guests have left him.
Ziggy might not be as small as he seems - here Tom Wilson seems to be using Peter Jacksonesque camera tricks to make the good Doctor seem much larger than he actually is.
And does Ziggy have some kind of immuno-deficiency disease we don't know about? Is he going to fade slowly like Freddie Mercury, uttering one last generic one-liner before his tiny candle quietly snuffs itself?
The color scheme in Ziggy's house could make a clown vomit. This clown, no less.
Ziggy's post office is a nondescript window unfolding from the aether. Winky Dilbert Tie Greenshirt needs up to read up on USPS regulations.
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