Shiny. So, so shiny.
PS: If a Starchild decides to stop by our planet for a visit I am so kicking its ass. That doll-eyed little bastard creeps the hell out of me.
In fact, the only way I could possibly find him more disturbing would be if he dressed up as a little clown, snuck into my room at 2AM during a thunderstorm, and hovered inches over my face with a paring knife....
Oh, great....
Well done, dark-recesses-of-my-imagination. I'll never get to sleep tonight with that fucking image in my head.
Damn you, Arthur C. Clarke. Damn you to hell.
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