Mighta kept my faith if I got stabbed with more extendo-nipples.

Hey, so long as it tasted good, the important part got done. I’d be afraid to let a professional chef see some of the slop I’ve plated before, but it was good.

At this point, I wouldn’t be surprised, but I just meant making a decent sashimi dish. Every time I’ve looked in that direction, I’m impressed at how casual they make it look.

I think learning Python might be easier.

Sashimi is damned hard.

Emotionally manipulated me back into multiple abusive situations to act as her shield, and has refused to so much as acknowledge what was going on. Can’t even have a talk about it, it’s just shut down immediately.

Now she doesn’t even know that she has a daughter instead of a son, and never will.

She looks happy, at least. Maybe it’s kinda meditative. You don’t want to move too much. Just sit, relax, and be a table.

If I had a pair of microcontrollers and an electric keyboard, I’d be totally down. No fucking clue what I’m doing, but it shouldn’t be that hard, right?

Are we sure about that?

I’ve seen what can be done with some probes and a salmon…

Well, at least you’re aware of my opinion. I wanted Greg. There’s a man who puts two in your skull and three in your chest. He confirms that kill.

Now snap my fucking neck, and I swear, if this is another Cuba, I will find the willpower to work my paralyzed arms.

I want to see the reaction that would come from a big-tittied fox in a maid outfit flouncing to the front lines.