Do you smell burnt toast?

A whole half-sour, Mr. NYC. ;-)

I stay that way. It saves time.

Calm down and eat a half-sour pickle.

Oh, simmer in your own delicious juices for a while, Beema!

A Bear, but you're not into that.

Turrible. Just turrible.

[Two heavily-armed goons exchange a Significant Look]

But I didn't get a chance to tell you where the railway station is!

If you want to have any sort of life worth living, you only stop learning when you're dead.

Mad Science! Krakenwissenschaft.

See any of the Critical Role folks there?

It would have been fucking fabulous if he'd finished it. You can tell he knew how this one was going to end.

Now he's put on the printer's apron so as not to spoil his waistcoat.

And now you've put on those weird sleeve-garter things to keep your cuffs out of the ink…

"Oh, you mean The Kraut. Top floor."

This is, of course, a complete load of joad and actively dangerous for young, impressionable people who buy into it.

Thanks!

Ertzazwissenschaftliche. You left out the pseudo.

How you gonna keep 'em down on the farm, after they've seen Karl Hungus?