(Psst! You're not dead; that's Sir Benjamin. But your new harp is broken. )
Granted. But this causes a dreadful paradox; as you are alive already. All the camaras turn inside-out, and everyone who likes camaras is...REALLY MAD! And they all come after you...
Granted! But, unfortunatly, it comes to life at night, and, well, oh dear...how do I say this? Well, the iPod, and some hair clips, and your spare harp strings...O dear. Never mind
I wish I had some red socks.
P.S. If it's any comfort, I don't have an iPod either.
Actually, all my harp strings were thrown out by accident when we were cleaning the study/music room! HAHA! *sticks out tongue. Hair clips...now that would be bad....
Granted, but I toasted them and they all turned black. I need to stop corrupting all your wishes, it makes me look bad....
Granted; you think of thousand of wishes! Millions of wishes! Trillions and Billions and Zillions of wishes! So many, in fact, that you can't hold them in. You spout wishes wherever you go, and all your friends desert you...and finally, you explode from internal pressure.
Granted; but you know what realistic pictures can do? Sometime, just sometimes *whispers* they can come to life And, unfortunately, you just drew a Nazgúl... and, well...
*ahem* You shall henceforth be shunned, and driven from Dufferland, and the evil monkeys will chase at your heels, and you will wish you were a Duffer, but there will be no going back...
I wish you were on.
(You APOLOGISED for calling her a Duffer!? NO! You must join the ranks of the Dern-is-a-Duffer-ers!)