I could whittle my points until they were sharp as skewers and drive them into your eyes, and you still wouldn't see them. You watched the wishing fountain crumble and spray as if it were as simple as pretending to be horrified while you stirred sugar into your coffee.
Got a pretty big gash on my arm. I'm getting pretty good at making stitches. What kind of doctor am I again? Heh.
That was funny. That was a joke. You're supposed to laugh.
You know what else is funny? Imagining the death of Captain Hammer. If it's anything like I picture it, then it's guaranteed comedy gold when it happens.
Trust me. It'll happen.
And I'll never stop laughing.
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