Lɪsᴛᴇɴ ᴅᴜᴅᴇ, I'ᴠᴇ ʙᴇᴇɴ ᴍᴀᴋɪɴɢ ᴍᴇᴍᴇs sɪɴᴄᴇ I ᴡᴀs 11, ɪʀᴏɴɪᴄᴀʟʟʏ ᴍᴇᴍᴇɪɴɢ sɪɴᴄᴇ I ᴡᴀs 17, ᴀɴᴅ ᴀɴᴛɪ-ɪʀᴏɴɪᴄᴀʟʟʏ ᴀɴᴛɪ-ᴍᴇᴍᴇɪɴɢ sɪɴᴄᴇ ɪ ᴡᴀs 20. Iᴠᴇ ᴄʟᴇᴀʀʟʏ ʙᴇᴇɴ ᴀʜᴇᴀᴅ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴇᴍᴇʀɪɴᴏ ᴍᴇᴛᴀᴄʜɪɴᴏ ғᴏʀ ᴀ ɢᴏᴏᴅ 6 ʏᴇᴀʀs ɴᴏᴡ. Gᴇᴛ ᴀ ɢʀɪᴘ ᴜ ғᴜᴄᴋɪɴ ɴᴇʀᴅ :^)

ヽ( ͡°╭͜ʖ╮͡° )ﾉ Kripp, it's me Papparrian. Your mother and I are very disappointed in this new 'brofisting' trend you've picked up on. We can only suspect it's due to you being around the succubus for too long. Please come home we miss you. No copypasterino cappuccino pizzarino pepperoni papa johns.

The year is 2088, Kripp lays tattered on his deathbed, his organs absolutely ravaged from years of veganism. He turns to his computer monitor for one last look at his beloved twitch chat only to see a bunch of weebs, emote spam and copy pasta. Tears fill his lifeless, vegan eyes. Rania is at his side as he draws on all his power to take his last breath and say the only enlightening words that come to mind.. "K"