death-7
Original: death-7 on Saturday Morning Breakfast Cereal
Transcript
Panel 1:
Woman with red hair (standing): Our lives have become dull and repetitive. Our love has cooled and cooled until it has finally congealed into a polite mutual acknowledgment, bereft of surprise or joy or hope.
Woman with black hair (reclining on a couch): Oh absolutely.
Panel 2:
Red-haired woman: But whaddya gonna do?
Red-haired woman: I think we should live our current lifestyles but imagine our mutual disregard is a fetish dynamic we're playing out 24 hours a day.
Panel 3:
Black-haired woman: That doesn't interest me personally, but I'm prepared to pay lip service to your desires in slowly diminishing quantities over the next two weeks in the hopes that you lose interest.
Panel 4:
Red-haired woman (leaning on the black-haired woman): So hot.
Black-haired woman: Right on, babe.
Votey:
In a hand-drawn style, a man's face with closed eyes and a flat expression. A speech bubble above him reads: YOU ARE GROUNDED!
Woman with red hair (standing): Our lives have become dull and repetitive. Our love has cooled and cooled until it has finally congealed into a polite mutual acknowledgment, bereft of surprise or joy or hope.
Woman with black hair (reclining on a couch): Oh absolutely.
Panel 2:
Red-haired woman: But whaddya gonna do?
Red-haired woman: I think we should live our current lifestyles but imagine our mutual disregard is a fetish dynamic we're playing out 24 hours a day.
Panel 3:
Black-haired woman: That doesn't interest me personally, but I'm prepared to pay lip service to your desires in slowly diminishing quantities over the next two weeks in the hopes that you lose interest.
Panel 4:
Red-haired woman (leaning on the black-haired woman): So hot.
Black-haired woman: Right on, babe.
Votey:
In a hand-drawn style, a man's face with closed eyes and a flat expression. A speech bubble above him reads: YOU ARE GROUNDED!
Alt text
A four-panel comic. A red-haired woman stands and laments to a black-haired woman lounging on a red couch that their love has cooled into a dull, polite mutual acknowledgment 'bereft of surprise or joy or hope.' The black-haired woman flatly agrees, 'Oh absolutely.' The red-haired woman asks 'But whaddya gonna do?' and proposes they keep living exactly as they do but pretend their mutual disregard is a 24-hour fetish dynamic. The black-haired woman replies that this doesn't interest her, but she's 'prepared to pay lip service to your desires in slowly diminishing quantities over the next two weeks in the hopes that you lose interest.' In the final panel the red-haired woman nuzzles against her, sighing 'So hot,' and the black-haired woman answers 'Right on, babe.' The joke: emotional indifference reframed as a turn-on. Votey (aftercomic): a loosely hand-drawn man's face with closed eyes and a deadpan frown, under a speech bubble reading 'YOU ARE GROUNDED!'
Transcribed by Claude Opus 4.8.