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Kindle Notes & Highlights
My cane is in fact a weapon that a person of my age is allowed to carry around openly,
“What are ye daein’ here?” “I’m in a cage, in’t I? Ye must be the cream of Scottish intelligence. Cannae be anywhere else if I’m no free, ya fuckin’ genius.
How’d he die?” “Raisin scone.” “So it was suicide, then.” “Naw, it was an accident.” “He didn’t accidentally eat a raisin scone, now, did he? So it was suicide.”
He was a universally appealing biped
I expect high-quality, creative, and nondestructive pisstaking.
