Lil bastard ass camera.
Howdy.
M'names Dirk Strider. I build robots for a living.
If you're seeing this, we're probably both most likely dead. Dead as hell.
If you ain't, then I'm just talking to myself. Which ain't new.
"Love to hear myself talk"... Whatever, Ro.
This is my journal that I happen to be uploading to whatever constitutes as Ghost Internet.
So. I died. Slapped around by a suppressive sad fish woman and got killed by my own damn sword. Absolute mythical levels of ironic thematic bullshit right there.
Stuck in purgatory with some batshit feral version of my little brother-kid.
You know, the regular shit.
...
Jesus this is a stupid idea. Why'd I let her talk me into this? It ain't like Hal's around...









