King of all wild things.

I wouldn't spike you. ~~Without warning you first.~~

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Angelo, you do realize what that sounds like, right?

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...Maybe?

I think I need to sleep too.

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Might not be a bad idea. It probably helps to be alert when you're planning to spike your girlfriend. :)

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...Paige? When you're deciding who to kill, remember who said what and who's very very tired?

*runs*

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Whaat? Takes a steady hand to sneak a mickey into somebody's drink without them noticing. Not something you wanna try when you're falling over yourself.

(Besides, I'm very tired, and you're the one who brought up spiking.)

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Context!

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DUDE! DUDE NOT IN MY JOURNAL!

God, people walking around smelling like it are bad enough do you have to -talk- about that too?

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Sorry, man. The straight line was too good to resist, and I needed a laugh this morning.

Heightened senses sound like a pain in the butt half the time, I swear.

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Half the time, yeah. The other half? Dude, I can smell baking bread from 2 floors and sixty feet away.

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Guh. Now I'm all drooling and stuff. Baking bread is the best smell ever--wish I could smell it like you can.

'Course, I'm about the only one who'll ever know what six simultaneous flavors of ice cream taste like when they aren't stirred together into soup. The little funky details about all this mutant stuff can be pretty fun.

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Its more that I can just smell it -more-. It doesn't smell different really. Even if I can kinda tell what kind of bread it is from the smell. That's -cool-. Cinnamon raisin. And taste and smell are all mushed together now, which Dr. Moira said is normal for everyone just more so for -me-.

We did a test thing with a pear and a potato. It was weird.

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The smelling it more was what I meant. Because more baked-bread smell? Much with the good.

And now I'm curious about the pear potato thing.

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Pears and potatos feel the same, so if you pinch your nose really hard you can't tell them apart.

Unless you're me, and then I had to pinch my nose, not breathe and had smelled a stinky mint thing -first- before I couldn't tell them apart.

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. . . They do? Huh. Y'know, they kinda do, now that I think about it. That's nifty.

So. No stinky mint things for you if we're at risk of running into any undercover pears. Gotcha. :)

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I think Dr. Moira was trying to make a point about how strong my sense of smell is.

I'd worry more about undercover potatoes. I like pears, but the demon spud, not so much. Except french fries. Those I like.

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Or trying to find out how strong your sense of smell is. Or both. She's really smart about this stuff.

And hey, potatoes aren't as bad as eggs. Never been able to look at eggs the same way since I realized they're basically chickens menstruating, and I didn't much like 'em before. Except when you use them to bake stuff or turn them into french toast.

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I like eggs. Even if its a chicken period. The PETA people used to picket a couple of the local farms. You get kinda used to the crazy people talking about innocent chicken fetuses after a while.

Ooh. French toast. Haven't had that in a while. Kinda wonder if I still like it. All my tastes changed - like, even if I could eat it, chocolate ice cream doesn't really taste good anymore. Feels weird in my mouth now.

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Oh, heh, PETA wackos. Yeah, those guys are fun to mess with. S' just amazing how berserk they get if you accidentally, y'know, hold an end-of-the-school-year barbecue in the vacant lot back of their office and then just happen to let slip that the burgers you're grilling? You assisted at that cow's delivery.

Someday I almost wanna watch them see how much animal death would result from their whole "set them all free" idea, if that wouldn't be cruel to the animals. Because our cows? Are too stupid to live on their own. They'll eat barbed wire if you don't keep an eye on them and there's some lying loose in the field.

Now I'm kinda hungry too. Wanna test that french toast? Because I could go for some.

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You helped deliver a cow? A baby cow? Whoa.

Sheep are stupid too. They'll eat dirt if someone doesn't prod 'em to move. And goats are -mean-. Mean, mean, one bit me on the butt when I was four -mean-. I mean, who bites a four year old?

Yeah. I could do french toast for lunch, cause if all else fails, I can always just have a sandwich if it turns out that french toast is off the list of stuff I like to eat now. Roast beef and I still get along just fine.

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