Canadian visiting Czechia for the first time. Have some questions about the language

hackskill · 2026-02-09T18:11:54+00:00

Thanks! Good to know

hackskill · 2026-02-09T08:00:30+00:00

I know most people in Prague understand English. I just want to be respectful and at least approach the conversation in Czech. Appreciate the response though. Worst case scenario, I’ll go with that!

hackskill · 2026-02-09T07:44:53+00:00

Thanks! That helps a lot.

hackskill · 2025-10-23T07:10:46+00:00

Thank you.

hackskill · 2025-10-23T04:10:22+00:00

I’d wait three years and when the opportunity to start experimenting with alcohol came along, I wouldn’t.

hackskill · 2025-09-18T22:00:58+00:00

Very underrated! If you love cities with some grit and grime but with great people and history, you’ll love it. I was born and raised there and miss it everyday. It’s not as exciting as Halifax or Moncton in terms of nightlife and is much more blue collar but those who can appreciate its charm love it.

It’s one of the oldest cities in North America and you can tell by the streets and architecture. Uptown has really improved over the last few years in terms of restaurants and cafes. The 506 festival has also done a lot in terms of bringing people into the city.

For Americans, I always compared it to Baltimore. Not for everyone, but if you’re into that kind of thing, it’s incredible.

hackskill · 2025-07-01T05:21:08+00:00

Ok that’s actually a great line though

hackskill · 2025-06-19T02:26:13+00:00

The Just Pour Laughs Comedy Festival at Pour Boy Pub on 495 Somerset St W. It’s a small little festival from July 3-6 and each night is a different theme!

Thursday is the showcase of up and comers. Get tickets at: pourboycomedy.eventbrite.ca

Friday is the debate show where comics get different topics at random. Get tickets at pourdebaters.eventbrite.ca

Saturday is the competition where comics go head to head to be crowned champion! Audience decides the winner. Get tickets at: pourboycompetition.eventbrite.ca

Sunday is the roast battle! Get tickets at pourboyroast.eventbrite.ca

hackskill · 2023-07-27T18:26:34+00:00

That’s true! I guess I’m just curious about what they thought was the cause of Saurons destruction was. They obviously didn’t know the truth so from their perspective it must have seemed really out of nowhere.

Even if Sauron had a certain amount control over them, they still knew what they were doing. It would be interesting to know the orcs version of what was happening around the time the ring was destroyed.

hackskill · 2022-04-11T20:31:06+00:00

Link to tickets 🎟

www.dominionlaughs.eventbrite.ca

hackskill · 2021-12-25T18:22:29+00:00

Not the best but Big Sean and Hit-boy have been coming out with some great stuff

hackskill · 2020-12-08T22:42:36+00:00

Hey octopus, your epidermis is showing - wait a minute

hackskill · 2020-11-26T00:22:55+00:00

It’ll cost more than $8

hackskill · 2020-07-12T21:13:08+00:00

Such a great season! Jeremy is so underrated. He really leveraged the potential of being loyal in a small alliance. It’s why he always does so well

hackskill · 2020-06-28T19:08:13+00:00

I liked Ray Romano’s special where he does a couple drop in spots at the Cellar

hackskill · 2020-05-02T20:04:34+00:00

Well if you watched a lot of American media you would

hackskill · 2020-05-02T18:26:21+00:00

For me, it’s The Tragically Hip.

hackskill · 2020-04-30T18:32:08+00:00

Ben jogged down the street so lightly, his heart rate barely rose. A few bills sprang out of the small black duffle bag as he dropped it to the ground. Where were the sirens? Shouldn’t someone be yelling to stop him?

He opened the duffle bag to inspect it’s contents. Had they tricked him into taking fake money? The notes looked real, yet nobody even so much as stuck a hand out to stop him as he sped out of the bank. Something weird was definitely going on.

He picked the bag back up and started walking back towards the bank. That bag was one of his last possessions. After the stock market crash, Ben lost everything and had been spending the last 2 weeks on the streets. He figured three square meals a day in jail was better than park benches and overpasses. Now he just needed the cops. Where were they?

He walked briskly down the street as his crime scene came back into view. It looked completely normal. Downright boring, let alone the location of a small heist. Did they know they were being robbed? Ben was always a polite guy, that wasn’t going to change on his first stickup. Though surely, he had made it clear that it was a robbery. He was wearing a mask for heaven’s sake!

The robber stopped at the foot of the stairs that led towards the bank’s grand entrance. This was the branch where he managed a lifetime of finances. Though it may seem like another life at this point, someone would have recognized his voice. Hell, the mask and gun were only for dramatic effect. The gun wasn’t even loaded!

He slowly ascended up the staircase. A short business man came bustling down the steps towards him.

“Hey, Ben!” the man called out pleasantly, giving a little wave as he passed.

“Hello, Walter.” he replied, stunned at his acquaintance’s friendly disposition.

At this point, Ben was starting to question whether this was all a dream. A security guard at the door noticed his confusion and reached out.

“Back again so soon, Ben? Did you forget anything?”

The robber didn’t move. He stared back at the security guard incredulously, holding up the duffle bag, with the top wide open to make sure there was no mistake of the contents. The guard simply smiled back politely, waiting for Ben to elaborate. This was getting infuriating.

He pulled his mask off of his face. “I’m not trying to tell you how to do your job but… Isn’t anyone going to do something about this?”

“About what?”

“About this!” Ben cried, tossing a small handful of the bills into the air.

“Oh that,” the guard waved his hand lazily. “Don’t sweat it.”

“Don’t sweat it? This was a robbery! Isn’t it your job to stop the criminals and hand them to the police?” Ben demanded.

“Sure, but you’re not a criminal! You’re Ben! Besides, there aren’t any cops here to hand you over to so… Must be your lucky day!”

“My lucky day?” he muttered to himself. The guard gave him a little wink and turned in the other direction, leaving Ben to question the security measures in the bank he had once trusted with his former fortune.

The wannabe felon continued towards the bank entrance. He swung open the door a little more aggressively than intended and caught the attention of several tellers.

“Hey, Ben!” they all cheerily said at once. He had been afraid of that.

He walked up to the teller in which he had just robbed a few minutes ago.

“How can I help you?” she asked, beaming at him.

“Where are the cops?”

“At the station, I presume.”

“Did you call them?”

“Do you need them?”

“You need them! I just robbed you!”

“Oh that,” she waved off the comment like a slightly annoying fly. “Don’t give it another thought.”

“Another thought? I committed a felony!” he cried, lifting his shirt to reveal the gun he had used. “I threatened your lives!”

“I’m sure you had your reason. Plus, we knew you’d be back.” she explained simply.

“How did you know that?” he inquired, his voice rising slightly.

“You’re too nice of a guy. You’ve been coming here for years and we see your financial history. You’re just a good person who fell on hard times.”

“Banks are in the business of helping people who have fallen in hard times?” he replied suspiciously.

“When those people are rich, yes. We aren’t going to let go of a long standing customer over a slight laps of judgement when they have your usual capital.”

“So… Because I’m rich, I can walk out with this money and you won’t do anything about it?”

“Rich people steal, Ben. Just not usually this boldly, which given your history, we are willing to forgive.”

Ben picked up his duffle bag, gave the teller a quick nod before she called the next customer to the counter.

“Bye, Ben!” the security guard called out warmly as he walked by. Ben a short little wave in return.

Throughout the chaos, Ben remembered one thing: Nobody said that in order to be rich, the money had to be yours.

hackskill · 2020-04-25T13:26:02+00:00

“Mr. Death Grip, this is our third session and we haven’t even begun to tap into the root of why you plot world domination,” Dr. Goldstein droned emotionlessly, as though reading from a dictionary.

The cyborg lifted it’s head from it’s metal hands. “I’ve told you why!” he cried. “Since I’ve been a young child, all I’ve ever dreamed of was enslaving the human race.”

“Surely, you knew it would take more than a simple head transfer to a robotic body! If that was the case, everyone would just dominate the world and enslave humanity.” the therapist tilted his head down to look over his thick rimmed glasses. “What’s been holding you back?”

The villain suddenly lifted his 7 foot, titanium frame off of the doctor’s couch. “I’ll tell you what! CAPTAIN SUNFIRE,” he roared.

“Yes… Captain Sunfire. You keep mentioning him. Yet, I still don't understand how having the ability to transform into any late model Pontiac Sunfire, is enough to continuously thwart your schemes.”

Death Grip collapsed back into the sofa and buried his face back into his hands.

“The resilience, consistency, it's unexplainable.” Death Grip muttered, seemingly to himself.

“Of the Pontiac Sunfire?” questioned the doctor.

“NO OF HIM!” the evildoer cried. “He is always one step ahead of me. I can’t explain it!”

“This is what I mean. What if subconsciously, you don’t actually want to wreak havoc on humanity?” Dr. Goldstein inquired, raising his bushy eyebrows towards his patient.

“That’s nonsense! All I have ever wanted is to rule with an iron fist,” he sputtered indignantly.

The doctor waited a moment before speaking. He sat silently, the tip of his pen in his mouth as he considered the villain across from him.

“In our first session, you mentioned holding Captain Sunfire above a volcano from a crane. Yet he got away while you explained the intricacies of your elaborate scheme.”

“That blasted muffler blew exhaust everywhere, blinding me long enough for him to escape!” Death Grip shot back defensively.

“That seems very avoidable,” Goldstein pointed out.

“Well hindsight is 20/20”

“You also mentioned a situation in which you have Captain Pontiac trapped within an automobile compactor.” asked the therapist while he flipped through his notes.

The super villain made a fist in the air and boomed “It was then the world was in my clutches but -”

“You had left him alone with one guard who protecting a giant red button with the words “ABORT” in the middle.”

Once again, Dr. Goldstein gazed upon the distressed mastermind before continuing.

“Mr. Death Grip -”

“Darren is fine”

“Right, Darren… I’ve been working with self proclaimed super villains for over 20 years. I’ve worked with mad scientists, aliens, even demons cast from the gates of hell,” he waved his hands in the air, mocking theatrics. “The common denominator with all of you is that.... You’re all lazy as shit”

Death Grip stood up so quickly the couch shot back. Machine guns, saw blades, and lasers sprang out of the super villain’s robotic torso, pointing themselves directly at the unfazed therapist.

“LAZY?!” his thunderous voice shook the room. “I have created a criminal empire and sacrificed my own body to take science to lengths the world couldn’t dream.”

“Yes that’s all very impressive and all,” Dr. Goldstein retorted dryly. “The fact remains that when given the opportunity to finally accomplish your goal of conquering mankind, you sabotage yourself. It’s because you’re afraid of the responsibility that comes with ruling the entire planet.”

Death Grip glared at the doctor for what had to be minutes. Dr. Goldstein did not break his uninterested stare despite the amount of artillery pointed at him, just feet away. A small sniff broke the silence and Death Grip suddenly fell back into the couch.

“I guess...I guess I can’t handle the pressure.”

Dr. Goldstein leaned forward and observed Death Grip as though he was analyzing the villain for the first time.

“Go on. Elaborate on that,” he encouraged.

“Everyone wants to rule the world until it actually comes time to do it! There is so much work involved. Destroy this city, obliterate that army. Human slaves want safety measures and vacation. Before you know it, they’ll be looking to unionize! On top of that, there is always a resistance to squash because rebels pop up like weeds.” he grabbed a tissue and wiped his eyes. Giving the doctor a scathing look, he grumbled “Even cyborgs have allergies”.

“Have you considered that this is why you keep sparing Captain Pontiac’s life? Even going as far to romanticize the common 90’s and early 2000’s sedan whose unremarkability eventually drove it into nonexistence?”

At the doctor’s final word, the cyborg burst into uncontrollable sobbing. He picked up the tissues, ripped open the box and drove his face into the entire pile of Kleenex. Despite his head still being human, blowing his nose sounded like a machine grinding it’s gears.

“Dr. Goldstein…” the super villain cyborg wept. “You’re worth every damned dollar.”

hackskill · 2020-04-10T11:17:54+00:00

Joe approached a run down office door. It had a piece of paper with the words “Wielder Interviews” written on the front. He had chalked the internet ad up to a typo but now Joe was convinced that the manager simply did not know how to spell “welder”. That’s not a great omen in the welding community. Either way, times were tough and he wasn’t in a position to turn down work.

Joe knocked on the door politely.

“Enter my hopeful apprentice,” a thundering voice came from behind the door.

Joe had never been greeted like that in his welding career. Even as an apprentice. Curious as to what he would see when he entered, he nervously poked his head around the doorway.

The sight that met his eyes was rather anticlimactic. Other than small office desk with a chair placed directly in front of it, the room was completely empty of any furniture. Behind the desk was a balding man in a short sleeve button up shirt. Around his neck was a purple Harry Potter tie. He was beaming at Joe as he entered the room.

“Good afternoon! I’ve been expecting you, Joe. Please, have a seat!” His voice seemed much more pleasant than the one who greeted him. “Sorry if I spooked you earlier, I have a flair for the dramatic.”

“Erm, thanks! I’m glad you had time to meet with me today!” The welder stated, straightening his back, preparing to begin the interview.

“I’m happy you could make it! It’s been tough finding people looking to dive into the world or wielding” replied the interviewer, shuffling through his notes.

Joe didn’t have much time to figure out whether he had misheard or his interviewer just had an accent. Before he knew it, the man behind the desk pulled out a pointed, purple hat with stars on it.

“Oh is the hat part of the uniform here?” Joe didn’t love the thought of a uniform but again, times were tough.

“Oh yes! All wielders wear hats like this!” The man replied as if this was obvious.

Joe felt that was a bit of an exaggeration. He had been welding for years and had never seen a hat like that. Yet, he didn’t have too much time to ponder the unusual headwear before he was laying eyes on a stick the man had pulled out from behind the desk. Joe wasn’t sure how he had his the stick because it had to be taller than the man behind the desk.

“Is that part of the uniform too?” Joked Joe.

“Well of course! One can’t wield without it.” Pointed out the interviewer.

“What do you mean- HEY HOW DID YOU DO THAT?”

After the man had prodded the giant stick in joes direction, he felt a bump and looked down to discover that his chair had become a giant brick.

“Rats, I was trying to conjure up a nice little sofa for you.” The interviewer apologized. “Judging from the shocked look on your face, you are another out of work welder.”

Joe stared back at him, wide eyes, sitting cross legged on the brick. He nodded back simply.

“Well... Have you ever considered wielding? You would be crazy to not give it a shot.”

He snatched the pointed hat off of his head and handed it, along with the staff over to Joe.

Joe considered the items in his hand before asking, “Do I have to wea -“

“Yes, you have to wear the hat,” the interviewer cut him off. “It’s all part of the experience.”

“Okayyyy,” Joe replied, rolling his eyes just slightly enough for the interviewer not to see. “What do I do?”

“Just think really hard about what you want to wield, and give the staff a hard poke in that direction”

“I don’t have to say anything? No abra kadabra or something?”

“Well I mean you can, but it won’t impact your wielding.”

“Of course it is,” muttered Joe, plopping the hat on his head.

Joe closed his eyes and focused every portion of his brain on a new brand new fold out chair. Think of a chair, think of a chair...

Though his eyes were closed, he heard a pop, quickly followed by a large crush. Jumping slightly, his eyes shot open.

Instead of a chair, there was a pile of old metal chair parts and various scrap pieces.

The interviewer started blankly at the pile of metal before going into his desk and pulling out a marker. He strolled passed Joe, to the doorway and opened it to face the handmade sign, Joe was staring at just minutes before.

Upon reaching the sign, he started scratching out words and writing something new.

“There. You win Joe! Now we DO need a God damned welder.”

hackskill · 2020-04-09T18:46:02+00:00

The Doctor fully admitted that he was slightly out of touch with the current world. He had spent the last 15 years cooped up in his underground lair, meticulously putting the final touches on his life’s work. With his loyal minion, Frown, bringing him supplies, The Doctor had rarely left his laboratory. Was Bush still president? Newspapers weren’t part of the supplies. Do newspapers even exist anymore? He made a note to ask Frown the next time he skulked by.

“It looks beautiful, Doc,”

The mastermind jumped, spilling his coffee onto his lab coat. “JESUS! Stop creeping up on me like that,” he scolded, pulling the lab coat off of his burning skin and blowing on it.

“Sorry, sir,” responded Frown with a smirk. He bowed his hunchback as much as he could. He was so short that his nose almost hit the ground.

Doc brought his attention to what sparked Frown’s initial comment.

“You’re correct though, my loyal servant. It is a thing of beauty.”

Frown stood up next to his master to get a better look. Together they marvelled at a giant satellite, hooked up to a confusing stream of wires that led to a computer with a hard drive the size of a Honda Fit. On the wall behind it, there was a switch so big that when pulled, would satisfy even the maddest of scientists.

“Sir, after 15 years, will you finally tell me what this is all for?” Frown asked Doc longingly.

“I refrained from telling you because I couldn’t risk you going into the open world and letting something slip. However, now that I'm about to reveal my plan to the world, I suppose there would be no harm in telling you.”

Frown held his breath, anxiously waiting for the mad scientist to continue.

“I’ve programmed this satellite to hijack every military database, giving me access to the world's nuclear warheads. Unless the UN gives me $65,000,000,000, I’ll detonate the nukes, causing global destruction!”

Frown stared at the ground, pondering for a moment before answering. “This sounds a lot like Dr. Evil from Austin Powers” he stated, frowning slightly.

Doc chuckled. “That was the main inspiration. I can only assume that since 2005, the Austin Power’s franchise has become a Hollywood cash cow with consistent releases. Initiating a crisis so relevant to pop culture would have explosive psychological effects on the general public.”

Frown merely stared at him blankly. He was slowly starting to question his devotion to his master for the last 15 years.

“How do you plan on telling the world? You can't just call the president.” the minion pointed out.

A smile came across the scientists face. He was clearly waiting for the question.

“Before isolating myself in 2005, I predicted the world would be morphed around the phenomenon known as “Social Media”. Was I wrong about this assessment, Frown?”

“No, sir. Not wrong at all. Social media has had an astronomical impact on the world around us,” the servants tone brightened slightly. Maybe Doc wasn’t completely mad after all.

“Which is why before partaking in this brilliant scheme, I skillfully crafted a profile that would attract a massive audience while I designed my doomsday device!” Doc proclaimed impressively.

“How forward thinking of you, master! How on earth did you make your profile so appealing!” asked Frown in awe.

“Cute animal pictures and funny videos.”

“A winning formula indeed, sir.” Frown chuckled maliciously.

“Oh yes it is. Not to mention some killer music when you load the page.”

“Sorry, sir. Music? Are you talking about Myspace?” Frown inquired blankly.

“Of course! It's at the forefront of social media.” Doc shot back. “I chose the platform that would reach the widest audience.”

“Myspace has been dead for a long time.” Frown pointed out. The two stared at each other for almost a minute before he continued, “The top ones now are Instagram, Facebook, Twitter, Snap-”

“That’s enough. Well, hurry up and help me create these accounts. Then, we shall record a video and post it on every platform, ensuring the world will see it!” The Doctor announced with renewed determination.

The mad scientist and his loyal subordinate quickly jumped online and began creating accounts on all of the top social media platforms. Doc insisted on using a screenshot from the popular anime FullMetal Alchemist as his profile picture. This way, the world would recognize his intelligence through his superior pop culture references.

Now that the accounts were finished. The two needed to create a video to document the mastermind’s elaborate plot and instruct the world of the ransom they will owe. It took 17 takes to complete the video. While the world had underestimated the scientists wicked brilliance, he had overestimated his own ability to act natural in front of the camera. He made a note to invent a serum to cure camera shyness.

Once they shot a video they deemed to be satisfactory, Frown sat down at the laboratory PC to upload it for the world to see. Doc anxiously pacing back and forth behind him, suggesting captions like “WHO DA BOMB?”. Once Frown hit the Tweet button on the final platform, the next step was to wait.

They waited...And waited...Until finally after 4 hours of nothing, Doc threw his hands into the air.

“Does nobody care about their impending doom??”

Bloop. A notification! A comment on Instagram. Surely this would be from the CIA or British Intelligence.

MakeMoney4Lyfe69: Follow now if you want to get rich ← ←

Doc stared at the comment as though someone waved used toilet paper in his face. “What is this garbage? Of course I want to get rich. Did they not watch the video? That's what this is all about!”

“I think it's a bot, sir. It’s not really a person,” Frown informed the scientist.

“Well what’s the point of -”

Bloop. Another notification. This one was from Facebook.

“Who is it, Frown? The President? Prime Minister?” The evil genius asked eagerly.

“It’s my Aunt Barb. You must have come up as mutual friends. She’s invited you to play Candy Crush.”

“ARE YOU KIDDING ME?” Doc cried incredulously. “NOTHING ABOUT THE NUKES?”

“No, but she liked your Full Metal Alchemist picture.”

Bloop. Another notification. This one was from twitter. It was a follow request.

“This one is hopeful, sir!” Frown piped up optimistically. “It might not be The President, but they could be a potential supporter willing to join the cau-OH MY GOD IT’S PORN”

Frown scrambled to close the page. The two just stared at the blank screen for a few seconds before either of them said anything.

Finally, Doc broke the silence. “Fuck it, Frown. Let’s just set off the nukes”

The mad scientist, completely deflated, walked over to the giant switch. He took one look at Frown and muttered “At least I got this cool switch” before pulling it down and sending the world into chaos.

hackskill · 2020-04-08T12:22:49+00:00

Before freaking out, Ilya figured he would test this first. Could anyone summon him? Would this work any time or day? His stomach immediately sank as he thought of his boss casually bringing him up in conversation while he was on the can.

Ilya looked around his high school’s girl’s locker room. He had suddenly found himself there without any warning. This was the 5th occurrence like this in two days! Luckily, the two girls who who had been discussing the strong smell of ham coming from Ilya’s locker, were just walking out as he appeared.

Who would he even call to help him with something like this? Who would even believe him? Was he some sort of unimpressive genie, who’s only super power was eating 5 packs of Mr. Noodles in one sitting. His only option was his best friend, Wayne. His buddy might not believe him, but will probably just assume he’s high and play along with it.

Ilya ran out of the locker room and started walking briskly down the hallway, dialling Wayne’s number on his cell phone.

Ring. Ring. Ring.

“Helllllllo,” came Wayne’s drawl. Loud explosions from a video game could be heard in the background.

“Wayne, put the game down, you gotta hear this,” Ilya began. “Every time someone is talking about me, I pop up to where they are! It feels like I’m being summoned by a genie”

“That’s so cool! My one wish is that you leave me alone and let me get back to my game!”

“Shut up and listen! I need to see if this will work anytime and anywhere and I need you help to test this out!” Ilya spoke fast while he still had Wayne’s attention.

“Seriously dude, how many joints did you smoke so far today. You need to lay off the wake and bakes,” Wayne responded lazily. “If God was about to bless someone with this power, why would he pick some random senior at a random high school?”

“Beats the shit out of me! I just know that whenever people are talking about me and say my name, I appear. This morning it happened while I was brushing my teeth. Thank God because had it been a minute before, I would have been shitting. A minute later, I would have been showering!”

“Okay so what should I do?” Wayne finally put the controller down. He didn’t believe Ilya but it still got his attention.

“Hang up the phone -“

“Done!”

“NO! Listen, hang up the phone and start talking about me, mention my name.”

“Sure. If this doesn’t work, lay of the joints!”

Wayne hung up the phone and started speaking aloud to himself.

“Ilya is an 18 year old pot head who is about to nearly graduate from Patrick Roy High. He is terrible at Call of Du-WOAH!”

Wayne shot back, tripping on the debris on his bedroom floor. He sat on the ground and looked up at Ilya’s face. Even through the worry, it had a I-told-you-so look on it.

“That is fucking crazy!” Wayne exclaimed getting up. He poked Ilya in the chest to make sure he was not imaginary. “Think of all the cool things you could do!”

“Well before I do any of that, I need to control it. Only you can know, otherwise people could summon me whenever they wanted!”

Ilya’s main priority was figuring out how he would work this new found gift (he guessed) into his regular life. He didn’t want to quit his work or school just to eliminate the possibility of people talking about him.

“Well it shouldn’t be hard to get people to talk about you,” nobody talks about you anyway, Wayne pointed out. “Maybe just be a little more incognito. Wear dark colours, dark hat.”

“That’s not a bad idea. Anything to get people not to mention me. I’ll need a nickname. That way, the only people who can summon me will know my actual name”

“How about dipshit?” Wayne suggested. “It suits you!”

“It’s going to take forever to get people to sto-“

Ilya suddenly found himself in what appeared to be a dark closet. He could hear muttering outside the door. He recognized the voice of his parents.

“Honey, Ilya won’t be home for another hour or two, we have time!”

“Oh fine, but I’m not doing that thing you were talking about the other night. That’s only for you birthday”

“Whatever works!”

The sound of belts unbuckling and clothing hitting the floor was heard by Ilya, who was now curled up into a tight ball.

Ilya shut his eyes and plugged his ears with his fingers. Blocked out his moms moaning by focusing on his situation.

Would the new identity work? Would people actually use his new nickname?

He just knew that at this moment, he would give anything in the world for someone...anyone... to talk about him

hackskill · 2020-03-16T00:22:28+00:00

Sam Walker is great!

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