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Description
Pinstripe Potoroo is copyright of Crash Bandicoot by Activism. In this story, he's doing community service for his crimes. I'm working on my perspective drawings - how did I do?

From Part 4 of this story: www.deviantart.com/zealousshad…

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The wombat parole officer dropped by regularly though never at the same time of day. Probably trying to catch him goofing off or something. If he was amused by Pinstripe’s efforts he didn’t show it. He’d just stare at him awhile, then go off and have quiet conversations with Jeremiah. One day though, he came across Pinstripe in an awkward moment where Nate and Rupert had told him to go catch a chicken for dinner. They’d been perched on the fence posts, gleefully watching Pinstripe get his tail handed to him by the tiny irate feather dusters. Try as he might, as soon as he got close enough, they’d dart away, cackling maniacally. He’d gotten one by the leg so far but had to let it go when she beat her wings in his face. Nate and Rupert occasionally threw in unhelpful bits of advice. “Whoops! Missed that one!” “Get ‘em under the wing, you can’t miss!” Pinstripe realized he hadn’t fully appreciated the smell of the chickenyard until he finally slid and fell on his elbows in the muck. Shit - literally - he’d probably have to hose off or get one of the others to bring him a change of clothes before Debbie would let him back in the house. He squinted one eye, knowing some gobs of the foul-smelling black muck had landed on his cheek, but rubbing them off would make it worse. What he wouldn’t give for a nice cool suit and pocket square right about now.
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Description
Pinstripe Potoroo is copyright of Crash Bandicoot by Activism. In this story, he's doing community service for his crimes. I'm working on my perspective drawings - how did I do?

From Part 4 of this story: www.deviantart.com/zealousshad…

*********
The wombat parole officer dropped by regularly though never at the same time of day. Probably trying to catch him goofing off or something. If he was amused by Pinstripe’s efforts he didn’t show it. He’d just stare at him awhile, then go off and have quiet conversations with Jeremiah. One day though, he came across Pinstripe in an awkward moment where Nate and Rupert had told him to go catch a chicken for dinner. They’d been perched on the fence posts, gleefully watching Pinstripe get his tail handed to him by the tiny irate feather dusters. Try as he might, as soon as he got close enough, they’d dart away, cackling maniacally. He’d gotten one by the leg so far but had to let it go when she beat her wings in his face. Nate and Rupert occasionally threw in unhelpful bits of advice. “Whoops! Missed that one!” “Get ‘em under the wing, you can’t miss!” Pinstripe realized he hadn’t fully appreciated the smell of the chickenyard until he finally slid and fell on his elbows in the muck. Shit - literally - he’d probably have to hose off or get one of the others to bring him a change of clothes before Debbie would let him back in the house. He squinted one eye, knowing some gobs of the foul-smelling black muck had landed on his cheek, but rubbing them off would make it worse. What he wouldn’t give for a nice cool suit and pocket square right about now.
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