I tell ya, the kids these days, with the computahs and the faceagram! And the rap bands they all listen to! I turn on the radio, I donno WHAT’s goin’ on! Tings was bettah in my day when people didn’t wear helmets all the time and the only people with car phones was the bad guys on a TV show! Take my wife…please!
Many of you are forgetting the prime directive of this strip: nothing is allowed to actually happen. It will be three panels of quasi-farcical misunderstandings, then all will return to normal.
Just “Newhart” all this crap, have her wake up in her early ‘30s with a whole family and a career and a mortgage, shake off the “weird dream I was still in middle school all through college with all these bland tropes” and give her a life and a personality. I might even read it, instead of hate-read it.
New hypothesis: Heathcliff isn’t real. The cat and his legion of robots, giants…pugs, whatever…and all the weirdness surrounding them are a hallucination being experienced collectively by the residents of Westfinster, possibly as part of some covert mind-control experiment. [cf. X-Files episode “Wetwired.”]
Yo! TJ! Teej! They about to start smushing parts together! Press your ear up against the wall!