I'm safe from bullets now that I have got my armor on. And it'll keep me nice and warm in case the hull is gone.
I have a pistol loaded here, and I am not afraid to use it, nor will I stop before I throw this here grenade.
Ugh. . . All those rhymes in my dreams. They haunt me almost as much as the visions of uncontained Xinchub.
There once was a king made of fat
who died on the throne where he sat.
He tried to come back
but could not for the lack
of a place where he might wear a hat.
Okay, I feel better.