THIS DIALOGUE IS GIVING ME A HEADACHE.
BETWEEN YOUR PASSIVE AGGRESSIVE OBSTINACY.
AND YOUR BIZARRE MOTIVATIONAL DIATRIBES.
AND THE FACT.
THAT I'M HAVING A HARD TIME TELLING OUR TEXT APART?
What?
You are?
KIND OF.
Well, here's a hint. You're the one typing in capital letters.
You're also the one typing in surly, brief, stilted sounding phrases.
NO, BUT THE COLORS ARE TOO SIMILAR.
I KNOW THAT SOME LETTERS ARE BIG. AND SOME ARE SMALL. HOW DUMB DO YOU THINK I AM.
I JUST HAVE AN EASIER TIME THINKING IN COLORS.
What does that even mean, "thinking in colors?"
I TOLD YOU. MY BRAIN WORKS DIFFERENTLY, SO SHUT UP.
Well, if you want to change your text color, you can if you turn on some of these monitors.
This thing is like a needlessly complicated desktop computer, really.
Made of a radio tower tree of old CRT monitors, rooted in a big transformer.
It needs a power though.
HOW DO I POWER IT.
See that loose plug there?
OH. FUCK.
Plug it into something.
WHAT A LOAD OF SHIT. THAT CORD IS SO SHORT. WHAT CAN IT EVEN REACH?
I dunno. Not my problem.
MAYBE IF I PULL IT REALLY HARD.
I CAN STRETCH IT FAR ENOUGH. TO PLUG IT INTO THAT FUCKING ROCK OVER THERE???
THIS IS BEYOND ASININE.
This is your quest.
In quests, there are challenges.
Challenges which must be overcome by your tiny, learningly-disabled brain.
I HATE YOU.
What you really need is a guide.
A mentor, of sorts.
Too bad you shot that clown.