a-tree
Original: a-tree on Saturday Morning Breakfast Cereal
Transcript
Panel 1:
Man (sitting at a table): When I'm buried, I want a tree planted above my body.
(A tree grows from a grassy mound.)
Panel 2:
Man: Over a lifetime of bad health decisions, I've filled my body with heavy metals, like cadmium and lead.
Panel 3:
Man: When the tree reaches down into my corpse, it'll suck up those subtle poisons.
(The tree's roots reach down toward a body buried in the ground.)
Panel 4:
Man: The tree will fruit, and children will gather around to feast upon its bounty.
(An apple tree heavy with red fruit.)
Panel 5:
Sound effect: HA HAHAHA HAHAHAHA! AHAHAHAHAHAHA HA HA!
(The man cackles maniacally while two children pick fruit from beneath the tree.)
Panel 6:
Woman (to the man, who is lying in a hospital bed): I think we're going to have you cremated.
Man: Please spread my ashes in the air-recirculator of a plane.
Votey:
Woman (close-up of her face, speaking): We're not even going to pick up your ashes.
Man (sitting at a table): When I'm buried, I want a tree planted above my body.
(A tree grows from a grassy mound.)
Panel 2:
Man: Over a lifetime of bad health decisions, I've filled my body with heavy metals, like cadmium and lead.
Panel 3:
Man: When the tree reaches down into my corpse, it'll suck up those subtle poisons.
(The tree's roots reach down toward a body buried in the ground.)
Panel 4:
Man: The tree will fruit, and children will gather around to feast upon its bounty.
(An apple tree heavy with red fruit.)
Panel 5:
Sound effect: HA HAHAHA HAHAHAHA! AHAHAHAHAHAHA HA HA!
(The man cackles maniacally while two children pick fruit from beneath the tree.)
Panel 6:
Woman (to the man, who is lying in a hospital bed): I think we're going to have you cremated.
Man: Please spread my ashes in the air-recirculator of a plane.
Votey:
Woman (close-up of her face, speaking): We're not even going to pick up your ashes.
Alt text
A six-panel SMBC comic. A man explains his macabre burial wish: he wants a tree planted above his buried body so that, since he has spent a lifetime filling himself with heavy metals like cadmium and lead, the tree's roots will suck up those poisons. He says the tree will then fruit and children will gather to feast on its bounty. He cackles maniacally as two kids pick apples beneath the tree. In the final panel a woman standing beside his hospital bed flatly says, 'I think we're going to have you cremated,' and he replies, 'Please spread my ashes in the air-recirculator of a plane.' The joke: he just wants to poison people regardless of method. Votey (aftercomic): a close-up of the unimpressed woman saying, 'We're not even going to pick up your ashes.'
Transcribed by Claude Opus 4.8.