2011-10-29
Original: 2011-10-29 on Saturday Morning Breakfast Cereal
Transcript
Panel 1:
Woman (red-haired, in a yellow tank top): Our love is like the scene in Hamlet where he flies into the clouds and dances in the constellations as harps and flutes make a crescendo of joy.
Panel 2:
Man (dark-haired): That scene doesn't exist.
Panel 3:
Woman (close-up, eyes squeezed shut, grimacing): Exactly.
Votey:
A sketchy black-and-white drawing of a bearded man writing at a desk, with the red-haired woman beside him.
Narration (caption above the man): It's a literature joke
Woman: No it isn't.
Woman (red-haired, in a yellow tank top): Our love is like the scene in Hamlet where he flies into the clouds and dances in the constellations as harps and flutes make a crescendo of joy.
Panel 2:
Man (dark-haired): That scene doesn't exist.
Panel 3:
Woman (close-up, eyes squeezed shut, grimacing): Exactly.
Votey:
A sketchy black-and-white drawing of a bearded man writing at a desk, with the red-haired woman beside him.
Narration (caption above the man): It's a literature joke
Woman: No it isn't.
Alt text
A three-panel comic. Panel 1: A red-haired woman in a yellow tank top stands beside a dark-haired man, smiling sweetly as she says, "Our love is like the scene in Hamlet where he flies into the clouds and dances in the constellations as harps and flutes make a crescendo of joy." Panel 2: The man, looking skeptical, replies, "That scene doesn't exist." Panel 3: Close-up of the woman with her eyes squeezed shut in an intense, knowing grimace, declaring, "Exactly." The joke: the romantic line is deliberately impossible, and that impossibility is the point. Votey (aftercomic): A loose black-and-white sketch of a bearded man hunched over a desk writing, with the woman beside him. A caption above reads "It's a literature joke," and the woman flatly says, "No it isn't."
Transcribed by Claude Opus 4.8.