sausage
Original: sausage on Saturday Morning Breakfast Cereal
Transcript
Panel 1 (top banner, woman with curly orange-blonde hair in a pink fuzzy robe, speaking):
Woman: WHY HELLO. DOES THAT PIZZA COME WITH THE... EXTRA SAUSAGE I ORDERED?
Panel 2 (a man in a red polo shirt holding a pizza box, replying):
Man: YES, BUT UNFORTUNATELY WE CAN'T HAVE SEX.
Panel 3 (the man, with a pizza in an oven shown beside him):
Man: IT'S THAT CRUMBLY LOW-QUALITY SAUSAGE YOU ONLY GET ON PIZZA. IT HAS NEVER RESEMBLED ANYTHING PHALLIC.
Panel 4 (the woman, then the man):
Woman: YOU MAYBE COULD SAY IT LOOKS LIKE A LOT OF TINY BALLS OR SOMETHING?
Man: LOOK, YOU DID YOUR BEST. I DID MY BEST. IT JUST WON'T WORK.
Woman: I UNDERSTAND.
Final panel (wide shot, no dialogue): The woman in the pink robe sits alone on a brown couch in a dim purple room, looking down forlornly at an open laptop, holding a slice of pizza.
Votey:
Woman (thought): I KNEW I SHOULD'VE GONE WITH MUSHROOMS.
Woman: WHY HELLO. DOES THAT PIZZA COME WITH THE... EXTRA SAUSAGE I ORDERED?
Panel 2 (a man in a red polo shirt holding a pizza box, replying):
Man: YES, BUT UNFORTUNATELY WE CAN'T HAVE SEX.
Panel 3 (the man, with a pizza in an oven shown beside him):
Man: IT'S THAT CRUMBLY LOW-QUALITY SAUSAGE YOU ONLY GET ON PIZZA. IT HAS NEVER RESEMBLED ANYTHING PHALLIC.
Panel 4 (the woman, then the man):
Woman: YOU MAYBE COULD SAY IT LOOKS LIKE A LOT OF TINY BALLS OR SOMETHING?
Man: LOOK, YOU DID YOUR BEST. I DID MY BEST. IT JUST WON'T WORK.
Woman: I UNDERSTAND.
Final panel (wide shot, no dialogue): The woman in the pink robe sits alone on a brown couch in a dim purple room, looking down forlornly at an open laptop, holding a slice of pizza.
Votey:
Woman (thought): I KNEW I SHOULD'VE GONE WITH MUSHROOMS.
Alt text
A six-panel SMBC comic. A woman with curly orange-blonde hair in a pink fuzzy robe says flirtatiously, "Why hello. Does that pizza come with the... extra sausage I ordered?" A man in a red polo holding a pizza box replies matter-of-factly, "Yes, but unfortunately we can't have sex. It's that crumbly low-quality sausage you only get on pizza. It has never resembled anything phallic." The woman tries, "You maybe could say it looks like a lot of tiny balls or something?" The man, beside a pizza in an oven, says, "Look, you did your best. I did my best. It just won't work." She answers, "I understand." The final wide panel reveals she is actually alone on a brown couch in a dim purple room, staring sadly at an open laptop and clutching a slice of pizza, the sexy pizza-delivery scenario having been an imagined roleplay that failed. Votey aftercomic: just her handwritten thought against a blank panel, "I knew I should've gone with mushrooms."
Transcribed by Claude Opus 4.8.