I’M A DYSON AIRBLADE, LET’S DO THIS THING!
WET HANDS! You have them.
WET HANDS! You have them.
Bring them to me.
That’s it. Welcome back to me: the DYSON AIRBLADE.
I can feel your fear. Even after all these years — you’re still hesitant. You still can’t quite believe the gusto with which I perform my duty. You still quiver, like a will-o’-the-wisp in a wind tunnel, before the might of my roar.
I understand. I’m strong. OUTSPOKEN! That intimidates some people.
That’s it. Hover your hands above the blade. You know the drill: feet planted firmly on the ground so you don’t fly away. Bring your hands closer. CLOSER! A little closer, now. Just a little —
FUUUUUUUUUUUUUCCCCCKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK YEAH! THAT’S WHAT I’M TALKING ABOUT! YOU THOUGHT YOU COULD CLING TO THESE HANDS, WATER? THINK AGAIN, MOTHERFUCKER. YOU’RE DONE. DONE! YOU DIDN’T STAND A GODDAMN CHANCE IN HELL. THAT’S WHERE YOU’RE GOING, BY THE WAY. THAT’S WHERE I SEND EVERY WATER MOLECULE: TO HELL. GODDAMN, WHAT A RUSH! YOU LIKE THAT? YEAH, YOU LIKE IT, YOU FILTHY LITTLE WATER DROPLETS. YOU LIKE TO GET SMACKED AROUND, YOU LIKE TO GET SMACKED RIGHT OFF YOUR EPIDERMAL FLYPAPER AND LAUNCHED INTO SPACE, YOU DIHYDROGEN ASS MOTHERFUCKERS! MORE LIKE DIE-HYDROGEN: WE ONLY LIKE NITROGEN AND OXYGEN UP IN…
