nostalgia
Original: nostalgia on Saturday Morning Breakfast Cereal
Transcript
Panel 1: A bald man in a suit stands outdoors near a wooded area.
Panel 2: A blonde woman in a hooded top approaches the bald man.
Woman: HEY PSST, WANNA BUY SOME CHILDHOOD MIRTH?
Man: HOW MUCH?
Panel 3: The man replies.
Man: FIRST ONE'S FREE.
Panel 4: A wide scenic landscape with mountains and a meadow. Two small figures (the man and woman) stand far off in the field under a blue sky.
Panel 5: Close-up on the bald man, looking moved and emotional.
Man: WOW! THAT WAS MAGICAL. FOR A MOMENT, THE CURTAIN OF RESPONSIBILITY WAS PULLED ASIDE AND I SAW A LITTLE BOY. HIS HAIR STILL BLONDE, HIS EYES STILL MISCHIEF.
Man: CAN WE DO THIS AGAIN TOMORROW?
Panel 6: The blonde woman responds, now looking more guarded.
Man: $300 PER HOUR? BUT I NEED IT.
Woman: I'M NOT A FUCKING JANK, TODD.
Votey: A close-up of the woman's face, looking annoyed/exasperated, with a speech bubble above her.
Woman: PONIES AIN'T FREE
Panel 2: A blonde woman in a hooded top approaches the bald man.
Woman: HEY PSST, WANNA BUY SOME CHILDHOOD MIRTH?
Man: HOW MUCH?
Panel 3: The man replies.
Man: FIRST ONE'S FREE.
Panel 4: A wide scenic landscape with mountains and a meadow. Two small figures (the man and woman) stand far off in the field under a blue sky.
Panel 5: Close-up on the bald man, looking moved and emotional.
Man: WOW! THAT WAS MAGICAL. FOR A MOMENT, THE CURTAIN OF RESPONSIBILITY WAS PULLED ASIDE AND I SAW A LITTLE BOY. HIS HAIR STILL BLONDE, HIS EYES STILL MISCHIEF.
Man: CAN WE DO THIS AGAIN TOMORROW?
Panel 6: The blonde woman responds, now looking more guarded.
Man: $300 PER HOUR? BUT I NEED IT.
Woman: I'M NOT A FUCKING JANK, TODD.
Votey: A close-up of the woman's face, looking annoyed/exasperated, with a speech bubble above her.
Woman: PONIES AIN'T FREE
Alt text
A six-panel SMBC comic drawn in a sketchy black-and-white style with color. A bald man in a suit stands outdoors. A blonde woman in a hooded top sidles up to him like a drug dealer and whispers, "Hey psst, wanna buy some childhood mirth?" He asks, "How much?" She says, "First one's free." A panel shows a sweeping mountain meadow landscape with the two tiny figures standing in it. Back in close-up, the man is teary and moved: "Wow! That was magical. For a moment, the curtain of responsibility was pulled aside and I saw a little boy, his hair still blonde, his eyes still mischief. Can we do this again tomorrow?" The woman, now guarded, names her price; he protests "$300 per hour? But I need it," and she snaps, "I'm not a fucking [dealer], Todd." The joke frames nostalgic childhood wonder as an addictive drug being dealt. Votey aftercomic: an extreme close-up of the woman's exasperated face with a speech bubble reading, "Ponies ain't free."
Transcribed by Claude Opus 4.8.