Sometimes, I just act like such a weird person.
We want your dining experience to be elegant and tasteful, like being pushed down a flight of rusty metal steps while trapped inside an industrial-design sarcophagus.
I don’t like that I have six, scraggly little legs. They are too scraggly for my taste and I still haven’t figured out what to use the middle ones for.
I put a sign on it just in case.
Big whoop, you make honey.
I was in the womb for NINE MONTHS with nothing to do. Obviously I’m going to rebel and do something just to get attention and make adults mad.
Why did you leave us, Father? Can’t you hear our screams?