[color=00a651]"Heyo, man meat. You're looking pretty criss cross applesauce. All tenderized. [i]Harachachacha.[/i]"[/color]

A Daisukegg-and-cheese McMuffin would probably totally turn her off of McGriddles. She'd have to give it a tri. She'd have to be trycurious. 

Like Bowie or Prince.

Speaking of, holy crap, Prince was dead. What a killer year already. Kimiko had her bets on a Beatle next; she'd long since learned to stop bleeding away any cosmic currency she had on betting on one of those speedball-pickled chavs from the Rolling Stones to shuffle off the farm to the great Muddy Waters concert in the skies.

Prince, though, man.

Kimiko hoped there wasn't gonna be a succession crisis before she was old enough to claim his throne.

Whichever throne Prince sat on, anyway...

[color=00a651]"Thanks, Hitomi,"[/color] Kimiko said casually through a bite of McGriddle, before she pulled the food away from her mouth and waved the breakfast sandwich at the guy ogling them. [color=00a651]"Heyo guy. You some kinda Warhol or something? Cause ya sure are eying me and Hitomi's cans."[/color]

There was no accusation in the tone at all. It just sounded like she was waiting for a chance to use the line all her life and had finally found the perfect opportunity.

[@Krayzikk] [@Kafka Komedy] [@Write]