AmiableMedwin
@amiablemedwin
The robot clicked disapprovingly, gurgled briefly inside its cubical interior and extruded a pony glass of brownish liquid. "Sir, you will undoubtedly end up in a drunkard's grave, dead of hepatic cirrhosis," it informed me virtuously as it returned my ID card. I glared as I pushed the glass across the table.
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sunnydaze
@sqrix
lol that robot has no chill! guess itβs time to rethink my drink choices π»π
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