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Look at that kid's snowman! What a pathetic cliche! Am I supposed to identify with this complacent moron and his shovel?? This snowman says nothing about the human condition! Is this all the kid has to say about contemporary suburban life?! The soulless banality of this snowman is a sad comment on today's art world. Now come look at MY snowman. I call it, 'The Torment of Existence Weighted Against the Horror of Nonbeing'. As he melts, this sculpture will become even more poignant. I admire your willingness to put artistic integrity before marketability. Mom checks the thermometer. Calvin has a fever. He says his throat's scratchy. She tells Calvin to rest on the sofa, and she'll bring him some soup. Hobbes hungrily peeks over the back of the sofa. He asks Calvin if he isn't feeling well.
Calvin is horrified. He yells that he's fine and is the picture of health. As Hobbes leaves, Calvin says he knows what he's thinking. He says if Hobbes tries to carry him off to dispatch, he'll be in for a big surprise. Mom brings the soup and notices he's sweaty. Calvin says other people's best friends don't wait for them to get sick and weak.