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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Strider_Koln" data-source="post: 5120991" data-attributes="member: 78265">Koln stands, his eyes slowly open as he mutters in a monotone voice as he rubs the back of his head, "La peste noire vient pour m'aimer, faites mon corps brûler. Vous faites mon corps brûler....brûler...ring...all fall down! br...donut... eh? Ah, instructions, listen listen carefully. p-purple monkey dishwasher...!" He points angrily at Bothwell, "Krispy Creme Mother <img src="https://cdn.jsdelivr.net/joypixels/assets/8.0/png/unicode/64/1f642.png" class="smilie smilie--emoji" loading="lazy" width="64" height="64" alt=":)" title="Smile    :)"  data-smilie="1"data-shortname=":)" /><img src="https://cdn.jsdelivr.net/joypixels/assets/8.0/png/unicode/64/1f642.png" class="smilie smilie--emoji" loading="lazy" width="64" height="64" alt=":)" title="Smile    :)"  data-smilie="1"data-shortname=":)" /><img src="https://cdn.jsdelivr.net/joypixels/assets/8.0/png/unicode/64/1f642.png" class="smilie smilie--emoji" loading="lazy" width="64" height="64" alt=":)" title="Smile    :)"  data-smilie="1"data-shortname=":)" /><img src="https://cdn.jsdelivr.net/joypixels/assets/8.0/png/unicode/64/1f642.png" class="smilie smilie--emoji" loading="lazy" width="64" height="64" alt=":)" title="Smile    :)"  data-smilie="1"data-shortname=":)" />ers.... holding down Monsieur McDonald on his farm spaceship in Minnesota... send in the clowns... no wait, Bothwell, send in the catgirls.. ph you better not...he's here..." With that Koln's voice begins to slowly and seemingly at random change pitch, alternating between angry and happy in tone...  "In my broken chair, my wings are... they are broken! and so is my hair... I'm not in the mood for whirling. the watsui... the twist... eldorado...BASKETBALL! My past is a lie...? Are my pants on fire? And then we take his head Clover, we take it, MAKE IT TALK! Put it on a broom so Prince Edward of Sparkling Sparkles doesn't know. No one's the wiser. Inspiration point doesn't open until after dark... if no one falls in the sound, and tree there to hear it, does it make a forest, OF COURSE! Of course it does, you know it does don't you Clover. My Father, who makes art in Heaven, and hollows... uhm... fire.. heh... my dad would want Bothyboy dead. That's the plan, you get all that? Dad wants him dead... Dr. Fish and the Vandernaughts want him alive though...and my coin just stopped doing aerobics yesterday." Translation: Black Death comes to love me, made my body burn. Make my body burn... burn...</blockquote>

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