[One of the fourth floor bedrooms has just become occupied. Its new occupant is a three-foot-tall green thing with blue scales and fins on his face. He is confused. And he does not like being confused. Being confused, in fact, pisses him the fuck off.]
WHAT THE EVER-LOVING FUCK IS THIS BULLSHIT?!
[The sound of rushing wind and flapping pages can
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Oh, awesome, now fuckin' Shakespeare here thinks this is hilarious. Thank you, I'm here all week. Go die.
[THUNK. yeah he may have just tossed the journal over his shoulder. it's still open though.]
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[still laughing]
Calm down before you shit yourself.
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Hey, numbnuts! I don't actually shit, joke's on you.
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What the hell...?
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Oh my God, who keeps talking. YOU'RE TOTAL SHIT AT HIDING, DOUCHEBAG, I CAN STILL HEAR YOU.
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I'm not hiding!
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[which is true actually. he's dispersed around his room to look in every little place, and up the vents, and under the door, and stuff. nothin' yet though.]
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Salutations! Somebody seems aggravated. Welcome to Paradisa!
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Jesus fuck, don't - what the hell is wrong with your face?!
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[Seriously why does everyone keep reacting that way to his face Cheriour does not understand you people :I]
These are my eyes! Honestly, it's like people have never seen anyone with clocks for eyes before.
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