Saturday Morning Breakfast Cereal by Zach Weinersmith for October 10, 2015
Trick-or-treat! And what are you, young man? I'm an eight-year-old boy. When I read history books about your time, they will not contain you, nor will their descriptions accurately portray your sense of that time in your life. Oh, I'll learn a thing or two about the travails of leaders you didn't vote for, and I'll remember them for exams. But, all the smells and the tastes, and the place-feelings that weave the texture of your sense of self will be lost and unrecognizable. The future is a foreign country, ma'am. And you aren't welcome there. Could you just dress as a ghost or a devil or something? Oh, that reminds me. There is no afterlife.