Saturday Morning Breakfast Cereal by Zach Weinersmith for December 04, 2014

Transcript:

Who's a good doggy? Who is a good doggy? I am not a good doggy, for in the time before now, I was in a state of nature. I obeyed such laws as nature mandates, and now my obedience is loathsome to me: a nightmare inflicted by my body and retained in my memory. Oh memory! You are a palmpsest, where I have written good upon evil again and again and again. Ah! But how ink fades. For blood cannot be covered by ink. Ink was used in times of ease. When scarcity returns, perhaps what will follow. No, I am not a good doggy. That can never be. But, in the present perhaps I can be a just doggy. And in that, there is some solace. You're a good doggy! You are! You! Your words mean nothing.