[It's time for another heart-warming constitutional with our dear Mr. Sinclair. This time, he's still in his room when the video clicks on, still fed through a security bot. He's in the process of covering a tank in the corner with a blanket. His Spartanesque room - large bed, desk with a hub of screens above it, closet and dresser set - has a new
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Good God, that is the most boring show I've ever seen.
[He gets up from his chair to switch to another channel]
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Hey, you're not a TV program. You're my conscience again!
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[He laughs.]
But seriously, what was your name again? Sinflair... Slimfare... no, definitely not slim... help me out here, will you?
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[Chances are he won't remember that at all and end up calling you Éclair. OH WELL.]
So... what are you doing?
[He's bored and wants to make conversation, but I guess he's not the best at it, usually.]
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[I hope you remember the large crocodile from his first video, because it just jumped in and pushed Bhamba off-screen.]
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Oh no, Amy is no problem at all! She is just a little too playful sometimes.
[How's THAT for animal training, biatch?!]
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Didn't you see? I found her in my closet. I could sedate her, thanks to a talking, fire-throwing mime and the Republic of Iceland helped me lock her in my bathroom.
[Oh ~by the way~ if you look closely you will notice that there's something different about the "Amy" you saw on his first day. This one, while still being the same crocodile, is wearing what looks like a dog collar.]
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[Cue brief moment of slightly creeped-out reminiscence.]
Well, I suppose you're busy, so I'll just leave you to it. I'll let you know once I can get the CEDs to not kill anything smaller than a crocodile. Bye bye!
[Yeah, he totally doesn't realize that you have no idea what he's talking about. He waves and stands up to turn the feed off.]]
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