Last week I visited my friend Etna in her home in Sicily. She was pretty chill the first half of the week, but from Wednesday she got really gassy and started throwing things.
Still. That is part of the appeal of a Rupture-in-the-Crust-of-a-Planetary-Mass-Object, right? The passion. She wasn’t, after all, terribly dangerous. Largely, she was interested in making clouds – which was admittedly a bit of a pain in terms of sunbathing (and in keeping the car clean), but generally we viewed it as a blessing.
My phone corrected “Jesus Christ” to “Jesus Citrusy.” …Not quite the impact I was hoping for.
Why exactly this would be useful is beyond me, since the usual use of these guns is surely to stop the birds singing, you know, violently and forever, rather than producing more birdsong.
And it would be uniquely useless in a hold up.
I finished work today and it was light. Not just light but the happy light that bounces off things and does the hurt on your eyes. Do you understand?
No, of course you don’t, you grew up in the UK.