Are you pouting?
It might be described that way, but I would disagree with the wording.
Yes, like Batman. That is what I’m doing.
The video situation?
I feel unappreciated.
Tell me I’m special.
For one definition of the word “special,” yeah.
All I asked for is for hundreds of man-hours of work and millions of dollars in intellectual property to be provided to me for free and on the specific platform I desire. And for the owners of said work and investors of said dollars to let me do it, even though it would explicitly weaken their claim on the copyright.
That’s not so much.
I would also like it right the fuck now.
This world breaks butterflies like you on the wheel, doesn’t it?
It does. Sometimes I think I have the most feelings of anyone in the world.
I got a haircut and wrote a poem about it: wanna hear it?
We need to keep things on a professional level from now on.
Right. So: waiting on the innertubes to come through. It’s always doing great things for sick children, so I–
Don’t do this.
–invite Enthusiasts to picture me a a small, pale, bald child who–
Nope, nope, nope.
SPRANG! CLATTER! SPLAT! Shplunk.
Was that a motorcycle?
Pulled out and got hit by an 18-wheeler?
I am not.
So, you’re Unbreakable?
Apparently. I cannot die.
Nor can I leave.
Being semi-fictional has its ups and downs.
Stuck here forever?
Forever enough, I suppose.
Might be called Hell.
Didn’t this start out as a place to make fun of Billy?
Evolved a little.
You having a bit of a crisis, or can I finish haranguing the readers for their paltry tribute?
Please don’t phrase it that way.
Oh, I won’t.