[There's a faint muttering coming through, a rhythmic five-seven-five syllables, too faint to really catch words (though "depressed" "failure" "dammit" "die" "disgusting" and "trash" seem to be cropping up fairly often). Everything Kid says is coming out in haiku and he can't stand it.
He tired to just keep quiet, but it's depressing and
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Why?! Life is beautiful! ...eth.
Cheer up, could be worse.
You could be Russian.
If you are, then your despair
is totes warranted.
But you could repent!
Embrace freedom and love and
liberty! Be happy!
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and no, I am not Russian.
I'm American.
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nationality to be!
I would know for sure!
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You're gonna have to speak up!
Can't hear your haikus!
[ UNFORTUNATELY, AMERICA IS JUST GONNA KEEP TALKING IN SETS OF 5 AND 7. HOW DOES IT FEEL TO KNOW THAT IT ALL ADDS UP TO 17, A PRIME NUMBER? ]
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America, you now know what it sounds like when someone vomits blood and collapses into a dead faint.]
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Hey, are you okay?
You sound kinda sick and stuff.
Refrigerator.
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Hey. Hey. Hey. Hey. Hey. Hey. Hey.
HEY DUDE, YOU OKAY?
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PLEASE ANSWER WITH A GURGLE
OR AN "I'M OKAY."
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UP WAKE UP WAKE UP WAKE UP
WAKE UP HEY WAKE UP!
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