Steam'i Yükleyin
giriş
|
dil
简体中文 (Basitleştirilmiş Çince)
繁體中文 (Geleneksel Çince)
日本語 (Japonca)
한국어 (Korece)
ไทย (Tayca)
Български (Bulgarca)
Čeština (Çekçe)
Dansk (Danca)
Deutsch (Almanca)
English (İngilizce)
Español - España (İspanyolca - İspanya)
Español - Latinoamérica (İspanyolca - Latin Amerika)
Ελληνικά (Yunanca)
Français (Fransızca)
Italiano (İtalyanca)
Bahasa Indonesia (Endonezce)
Magyar (Macarca)
Nederlands (Hollandaca)
Norsk (Norveççe)
Polski (Lehçe)
Português (Portekizce - Portekiz)
Português - Brasil (Portekizce - Brezilya)
Română (Rumence)
Русский (Rusça)
Suomi (Fince)
Svenska (İsveççe)
Tiếng Việt (Vietnamca)
Українська (Ukraynaca)
Bir çeviri sorunu bildirin
𝗡 𝗢 𝗪 ⠀𝗣 𝗟 𝗔 𝗬 𝗜 𝗡 𝗚 🎵 🇮 🇷🇪🇦🇱🇱🇾 🇼🇦🇳🇹 🇹🇴 🇸🇹🇦🇾 🇦🇹 🇾🇴🇺🇷 🇭🇴🇺🇸🇪 by 𝐑𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐖𝐚𝐥𝐭𝐨𝐧 🎵⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
─⚪───────────────────────────────────────────────────⠀⠀⠀
◄◄⠀▐▐ ⠀►► ───○ 🔊 𝟶:𝟺𝟼 / 𝟺:𝟶𝟼 ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ᴴᴰ⠀ ⚙⠀ ❐⠀ ⊏⊐⠀
I noticed that, during class, you appeared to consume an entire chocolate cake. Normally i would never be one to police my students eating habits, but i reviewed the class recording and you finished the whole thing in 43 seconds. i'm pretty sure i watched you unhinge your jaw like some kind of a snake.
is everything going okay at home? is your jaw okay? Please let me know i can be of any support.
Anakin and I used to doubleteam her at the end of every successful campaign during the Clone Wars, and once in a while we’d even have the entire 501st run a train over her, part of official Jedi “training” of course. In time, she learned how to handle a meatsaber better than anyone in the Jedi Temple. She wore a miniskirt every day so we told her there were no panties in space, and since she was constantly doing acrobatics you’d get a glimpse of her orange ♥♥♥♥♥ mid fight as she’d do a flip while slicing a B2 Super Battledroid in half. It was surreal.
I finished my twelfth gallon and began screaming and flexing, my skin tearing around my robust skeletal frame. With one final push I shed my meat chrysalis. I was free.
I started chugging gallon after gallon of milk standing right there in the store, my skin ripping at the seams. The cashier ran over to stop me but I swatted him aside and in one clean blow he landed across the room, shattering every bone in his pathetic meat suit. There was nothing left of him but a wet bloody puddle deprived of structure. I never thought I had it in me to kill but by now I had ascended beyond petty morality.
This leads to so many important questions, like: were the Cars Little Boy and Fat Man nukes sentient? Was it a suicide mission? Are ALL Cars nuclear weapons sentient? Did Tsar Bomba have a personality? What kind of car was Car Hitler? A VW? A forklift?
Was there a Cars 9/11? Were the planes hijacked, or were the planes themselves radicalized? I could go on
░█░░░░░░░░▀▄░░░░░░▄░
█░░▀░░▀░░░░░▀▄▄░░█░█
█░▄░█▀░▄░░░░░░░▀▀░░█
█░░▀▀▀▀░░░░░░░░░░░░█
█░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░█
█░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░█
░█░░▄▄░░▄▄▄▄░░▄▄░░█░
░█░▄▀█░▄▀░░█░▄▀█░▄▀░
░░▀░░░▀░░░░░▀░░░▀░░░
╠╬╬╬╣OK! WHO ATE MY
╠╬╬╬╣CHOCOLATE!!
╚╩╩╩╝