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Apocalypse page two hundred thirty one. Panel one: Death and her son sit at the dining table. Death sighs. 'Sometimes the dishwasher doesn't clean the little rims on the cups. So I have to wash them myself.' Panel two: Mort cheerily offers 'Oh, so you have to wash them manually?' Panel three: Death looks at him suspiciously. '................. Yes...' Panel four: 'But why do you know that word?'

Posted March 9 2025

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