2005-05-09
Original: 2005-05-09 on Saturday Morning Breakfast Cereal
Transcript
Main comic (single panel):
A wounded armored man (described in the caption as Ed), wearing a helmet with two swords stuck into the ground behind/around him and an arrow apparently through his head, crawls across a lawn toward a residential mailbox labeled "MAIL". He is bleeding and reaching out one arm.
Wounded man (shouting): "THE... MAIL... MUST... GET... THROUGH!"
In the background, two onlookers (a brown-haired person and a blond-haired person seen from behind) watch.
Caption (below panel): "Secretly, Ed wondered if there were an easier way to deliver mail-order weaponry."
Votey:
A roughly drawn man with a mustache stands beside a speech bubble.
Mustached man: "Please wait while I prepare your bullets."
A wounded armored man (described in the caption as Ed), wearing a helmet with two swords stuck into the ground behind/around him and an arrow apparently through his head, crawls across a lawn toward a residential mailbox labeled "MAIL". He is bleeding and reaching out one arm.
Wounded man (shouting): "THE... MAIL... MUST... GET... THROUGH!"
In the background, two onlookers (a brown-haired person and a blond-haired person seen from behind) watch.
Caption (below panel): "Secretly, Ed wondered if there were an easier way to deliver mail-order weaponry."
Votey:
A roughly drawn man with a mustache stands beside a speech bubble.
Mustached man: "Please wait while I prepare your bullets."
Alt text
A single-panel comic. A battered armored man lies on a suburban lawn, bleeding, with swords planted in the ground around him and what looks like an arrow through his helmeted head. He crawls and reaches toward a mailbox labeled MAIL, shouting in a huge yellow speech bubble: "THE... MAIL... MUST... GET... THROUGH!" Two people watch from the background. The caption reads: "Secretly, Ed wondered if there were an easier way to deliver mail-order weaponry." The joke: this heroic mail-courier is dying just to hand-deliver weapons someone ordered by mail. Votey: a crudely drawn mustached man says, "Please wait while I prepare your bullets."
Transcribed by Claude Opus 4.8.