haiku
Original: haiku on Saturday Morning Breakfast Cereal
Transcript
Panel 1 (narration caption, yellow banner at top): MY NEWEST PATENT: A MACHINE THAT DETECTS WHEN TWELVE SYLLABLES HAVE BEEN SPOKEN, THEN ADDS A LINE TO MAKE IT A HAIKU.
First man (bearded, in a yellow hard hat and dark vest, pointing): THE COD WAS ROTTEN, MAN MY GUTS TURNED INSIDE OUT.
Machine (small device on the right, speaking in italics): sparrows, in moonlight
Votey:
No text. A close-up of a weary, bearded man in a wide-brimmed hat, eyes closed, a tear running down his cheek, drawn in a loose ink style.
First man (bearded, in a yellow hard hat and dark vest, pointing): THE COD WAS ROTTEN, MAN MY GUTS TURNED INSIDE OUT.
Machine (small device on the right, speaking in italics): sparrows, in moonlight
Votey:
No text. A close-up of a weary, bearded man in a wide-brimmed hat, eyes closed, a tear running down his cheek, drawn in a loose ink style.
Alt text
A single-panel SMBC comic. A yellow caption across the top reads: "My newest patent: a machine that detects when twelve syllables have been spoken, then adds a line to make it a haiku." Below, two bearded men in yellow hard hats sit side by side. The left man, pointing, says in a blunt speech bubble: "The cod was rotten, man my guts turned inside out" (twelve syllables). A small machine on a table at right responds in elegant italic script: "sparrows, in moonlight" -- automatically completing the crude complaint into a poignant three-line haiku. The votey aftercomic is a wordless close-up of a weary bearded man in a wide-brimmed hat, eyes closed with a single tear on his cheek, evoking the unexpected melancholy beauty the machine has conjured.
Transcribed by Claude Opus 4.8.