|
What happened next, I have somehow blotted out of my memory. There is a god.
|
|
|
|
 |
|
|
|
Next thing I know, that robot was standing over me, looking spent. "I haven't made such sweet music since I cornholed the New York Philharmonic," it said inviolably.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
I started to limp home, and thought I might make it unscathed, when I ran into a couple of thugs from Greenpeace.
|
|
|
|
 | |  |
| Look at that guy. He's dripping oil from his butt. | |
 | |  |
|
 |
|
|
