Doonesbury by Garry Trudeau for November 15, 1986
Jeremy: Mrs. D? Jeremy here. I hope you found the bird-call tribute of some comfort. I've also written a prose poem I'd like you to hear. I wanted to read it to everyone, but the minister kept looking at his watch. Ready? Okay, here goes. "A twig, bent low. Motionless, a chickadee stares down at the woeful countenance. This slumped figure. This man. This Richard. He gave a hoot." Lacey: Thank you, dear. That's very...uh.. Jeremy: "The end. Copyright 1986. Jeremy Cavendish. All rights reserved."