In an adjacent universe, homemade items must be made BY a home. Chefs must either rent out their bodies as homes to parasitic aliens, or risk being replaced by sentient robot-houses.
TEXT OF COMIC:
This menu looks great. It’s rare that I find a restaurant where I like more than one thing.
My favorite is the homemade grilled cheese.
Is it really homemade?
I mean, I’m assuming it’s made in the restaurant.
I just imagined a whole world where truth-in-advertising laws require anything labeled “homemade” to be actually made in somebody’s home, and restaurants hire people to LIVE IN THE RESTAURANT so that it will legally be considered a home for that purpose.
You’ve just invented my dream job. Can I move into that world?
MOUSEOVER TEXT: the house always wins