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What I was going to say, but you beat me to it.
When Doves Cry – er, peacocks.
Here comes the sun?
But I don’t know that it’s all right…
We now rejoin our former plotline, already in progress
Probably about time for Marx to show up and explain a few things. I mean, to the extent that he ever does.
I was just about to type “Are you a good witch or a bad witch?”
Panel three made me think of Nebula in Guardians of the Galaxy pulling herself back into shape.
They Might Be Giants want to talk to you about Apollo 18.
Sofa, so good.
Since there hasn’t been a cardboard box yet, this will have to do.
What I was going to say, but you beat me to it.