Words of the Constant
The only place I've felt at home is in the sky.
Still functions as a landmark.
It's a sign. Literally and figuratively.
Doesn't say much. In fact, doesn't say anything at all.
That's a lot of honey, honey.
More useful as a sweetener than a comb.
Sticks to your ribs. And to your hands.
Tiny bits of sweet meat I can launch through the air.
Meh. I like horn mine better.
Smells like something burning.
You'd be better if you were a cat.
Those hounds don't leave any meat on the bone, do they?
Should I be terrified? Just for future reference.
Typical. Dogs never clean up after themselves.
I have two words for you: Pew. Pew.
Bet these would make for some fine frigid projectiles.
As long as I don't have to lug it around with me.
I'm going to eat this so fast I'll get an ice cream headache!
I prefer it cold anyway.
Quite frankly, I don't care who sees me like this.
Am I supposed to be scared? Because I am.
There'll be little pellets of ice as far as the eye can see!
Needs more fuel to make more frozen.
I'm used to making ice the old fashioned way. By freezing water.
Drat. I let the fuel get too low.
It's desperate for something to burn into ice.
A nice little picnic basket.
An icicle waiting to happen.
Was it glowing like that before?
Oh I get it! It's meant to be annoying.
Weird little pyramids are a sure sign you're on an adventure.
Swell. It's a floor.
All the rage with the outdoorsy types.
Swell. It's a floor.
Swell. It's a floor.
Swell. It's a floor.
All the rage with the piggy types.
Swell. It's a floor.
Swell. It's a floor.
Wish I had this for my balloon.
Oooh. So soft.
Cold on the feet.
Am I missing something or is this floor... missing something?
Swell. It's a floor.
Swell. It's a floor.
A checkered wall.
Nice enough.
Nice enough.
Nice enough.
Makes my eyes go dizzy.