Chapter 8: Communication

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Don't we at least get some sort of phone call?

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Hello? Walker?

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Hey, space-boy! I'm talking to you. EARTH to WALKER.

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He Who Walks the Sky you better answer me when I'm talking to you.

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The silent treatment, eh? Well two can play at that game. I'm not talking to you either. Starting right now.

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Okay I can't do the no talking thing. It's kind of the only thing I've got going at the moment. Say something! ... I'm giving up on you.

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I'll be the one, if you want me to. Anywheeeere--seriously, man, nothing? What's a disembodied voice gotta do around here to get a little attention?

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Seriously, Walker, don't make me introduce you to Taffy. I will throw so many pornographic images at you that you'll be seeings boobs for miles.

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Boooooooooooobs.

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Look, I'm sorry we're in this mess, alright? I don't wanna die either. Sure I wouldn't complain if they could rip you out of the back of my neck without also killing me in the process, but hey, if they can't, and we're stuck together, that's not so bad either. I'd rather be trapped in my own head than dead. And honestly, you're not that bad. If you were human, and I was human, and we had our own bodies, I'd totally buy you a beer and take you to the best strip club Las Vegas has to offer. If we were in Vegas, anyway. Which we aren't. Actually, I have no idea where we are. Being stuffed in the back of someone's trunk tends to do that to a guy. So like it or not, we're in this together, and you know, maybe we can figure something out. I'm good with people. I'll charm the pants off these rebels and we'll talk our way out. Whaddaya say, good looking? You and me?

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