Jimbo the Bimbo
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Dark. Dank. Wet. Cold.
Why the hell is it that wherever I go on this hellhole of a planet, I'm always frikin' cold and wet? I personally don't know. And I don't care (or try not to).
I've promised myself that I'm not gonna waste anymore time giving this planet and it's inhabitants the finger, because I've got a job to do. And the sooner I get the job done, the sooner I can hop a luxury liner and get away from this place.
Stepping out into the rainy streets of the Rykalin capital (I just can't seem to remember the name), I lit a cigarette, and reviewed the facts...