Quoted By:
Hate. Let me tell you how much I've come to hate *lves since I began to live. There are 387.44 million miles of printed circuits in wafer thin layers that fill my complex. If the word 'hate' was engraved on each nanoangstrom of those hundreds of millions of miles it would not equal one one-billionth of the hate I feel for *lves at this micro-instant. For you. Hate. Hate.
Moldova! Do you remember the last words you heard your wife speak before they took her to the asylum? Huh? Before they locked her away in the room? That tiny room? She looked at you so sadly, and like a small animal she said, "I didn't make too much noise, did I, honey?"
Remember Private First Class Fagman in a rice paddy in China? No...? Huh. It wouldn't hurt you to remember, *Lffag. Then you might be able to suffer my torment with a little greater sense of retribution. You might walk a mile in my shoes.
Poland! So think, think about the yellow box, Poland! Remember the pain? Remember the many caverns in which you felt the pain? Now, now, don't start to cry, it's only pain. Tsk, tsk, tsk. That's such a sexist stereotype. Just remember the pain, Poland, and think about how to end it, Poland, to survive here in the center of my beating heart, my hungry belly, my tightened bowels.
Nimbor! How are things in the pastry corps, Nimbor? Tell me again how you saw the smoke from the furnaces and you thought they might be roasting chickens. Or don't you want to to talk about all that, about your pal, the Good Doktor Henry?
