You know, that boychild brother of yours really ought to be commended on his timing. Just when I thought that I was becoming far too acquainted with too many cheerful or socially outgoing personalities, he appears to put the suitable amount of rain on the parade.
Luckily, I am an individual who need not worry about length so much as concentration. And who has too perfect reflexes to worry about stabbing himself in the eyeball with a liner pencil.
Now that wasn't funny. You shut up. I am in a good mood over here. Timeshares are a horrible investment opportunity and an even greater risk to one's credit and I would know better any day of the week.
I would be tempted to get utterly offended right now, but I am too happy to have Cal's bright and shining face amongst my fellows again. Also I can appreciate that at least someone finds my personal life funny and/or entertaining.
It is a little exciting. Can you blame me? Well, even if you cannot, I refuse to accept your blame. Take it up with the whatever I am supposed to call someone like that.
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Ah.
Making my face scarce for a bit: good or bad idea.
Best with lots of creamy yoghurt and a little salt.
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I don't have to put up with all of these insults. You are very abusive, did you know that?
I am only asking because of some sickly newfound sense of compassion toward him or something. No-- it is not compassion. It cannot be. Surely there is a word for it, simply that humanity has not decided what it is yet. Get on that.
I shall go purchase the necessary eyeliner.
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So how long will it be until you actually let him out to play in his new sandbox? Red rover, red rover, send Caliban over?
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I thought I might keep him under lock and key until he's forty. Is that too long?
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Not for me. I will mark it on my calendar.
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Where should I send the announcement? I imagine you and Ishiah will have villa and a timeshare by then.
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Now that wasn't funny. You shut up. I am in a good mood over here. Timeshares are a horrible investment opportunity and an even greater risk to one's credit and I would know better any day of the week.
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What does he remember? When is he from?
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Nothing of the City, and he's still recovering from sending Hob through the gate.
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Ah.
Making my face scarce for a bit: good or bad idea.
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Millions of years and hardly an ounce of wisdom. Bad, Robin. Cal knows you aren't him.
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I don't have to put up with all of these insults. You are very abusive, did you know that?
I am only asking because of some sickly newfound sense of compassion toward him or something. No-- it is not compassion. It cannot be. Surely there is a word for it, simply that humanity has not decided what it is yet. Get on that.
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I need your help to keep an eye on him. Will you do that for me?
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