DG: (outside with Things) Heather? Why are you bleeding?
Thing 2: Bweeding? I not bweeding!
DG: Uh, yes you are.
Thing 2: I not bweeding. Hrmpfh.
DG: Look at your leg. You're bleeding. What did you do?
Thing 2: Bweeding? AAAAAHHHHHH!!! I'm bweeding! I'm dying! Daaaaadddddyyyyyy!
Veni, Vidi, Ventus --
The randomly chaotic and crafty scribblings of a deranged, wannabe artist allowed too many colours in her Crayon box.
Surgeon General's Warning: Some content of "From Pooka's Crayon" may not be suitable for: work, blue-haired little old ladies, the politically-correct, rabid moonbats, uptight mothers, priests, chronic idiots, insurance claims agents, Democrats, children, small furry quadropeds from Alpha Centauri, or your sanity.
The randomly chaotic and crafty scribblings of a deranged, wannabe artist allowed too many colours in her Crayon box.
Surgeon General's Warning: Some content of "From Pooka's Crayon" may not be suitable for: work, blue-haired little old ladies, the politically-correct, rabid moonbats, uptight mothers, priests, chronic idiots, insurance claims agents, Democrats, children, small furry quadropeds from Alpha Centauri, or your sanity.
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