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Sometimes my teachers would mess it up so bad that the whole sheet was black and you could only read text by analysing the white pixels scattered at the edges of where black text would be
“H-H-He’s black…”
“Go on.”
“H-H-He’s bald—”
“Does he look like a facsimile?”
W-W-What?
The mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell!
Most prisons are actually hooked up to the public grid, so the powerhouse of the cell is the same source as your house.
That burnt wojack cell
I can smell the copy paper.
It’s the mitochondria.
Kinda looks like the Flying Spaghetti Monster shadow.
