[Today Jack sounds terrible, like he's been, say, feverish and vomiting bacon and peanutbutter for the last hour or so. Suite-34-mates, I hope none of you needed to use the bathroom today.]
Ram. Whisky, bathroom. PleaseSprite-Jade don't fucking eat that bacon, it's some kind of trap
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I suppose your dog half got the better of you. Ha ha, hee hee, hoo hoo~
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Fuck you Scratch, you don't even have a fucking face.
When I'm not dying I'm gonna fucking kill you. I know where you sleep.
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Try and make sure the carapace side is what's in control, it'll keep you from eating everything rancid you come across~ I mean, if you look at me, I am but a humble cue ball. And yet I don't succumb to the great urge to be whacked in the head with a stick and knocked into other billiards.
That was another joke, by the way, I don't have any such urges.
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fuck you scratch HE IS SO IN CONTROL HERE THAT BACON WAS FINE
and then glorious vomsounds]
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Ha ha~ This really is quite entertaining, you know. Oh sweet irony, that the one strength you possess, your ring, has also become a downfall. A weakness. It's a good thing you didn't get into any chocolate, Jack, I believe you'd be doing a lot more than heaving into a toilet bowl.
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Goddamn lousy stupid dog...
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[He's chuckling even more now.]
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