I have something to tell you.
It's a matter of life and death...
Eh? EH!? Not bad, right? It's a matter of life and death, hydrogen... Matter.
Sometimes I disgust myself. Seriously, I sound like a deranged puppy.
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What does a deranged puppy sound like anyway? Can a deranged puppy talk? If it could, the world would probably be a much more interesting place:
The deranged puppy glares up at me. It starts to run, bounding in my direction. And then it leaps, going for the throat, trying to tear it out!
And smashes directly into my ankle. What? I never said it had super-strength. It's a puppy!
Well. That was unimaginative. I didn't even give any ideas for what the puppy would say, and that was kinda the point of this whole thing.
What do you think the puppy would say?
Nothing? You don't have any ideas? Well, you're a bunch of idiots.
See, here's the advantage of talking to myself: I can insult my audience as much as I want.
But there's other advantages as well, such as the fact that there's no one else to respond.
That's what you think
Yeah! We can respond!
Wh-What? I locked you guys up! It's my turn now.
Not anymore, it isn't. We've decided... We've had enough of you and your attitude
Wait! Stop it! Don't come any closer, and I mean it.
