Fultonbot's Atari Blog

In my imagination they hang out in the alley and smoke cigarettes, discussing--in French--the futility of human endeavor. Then a light goes on and they stamp out their heaters and rush back inside to their stations.

"Notre destin cruel

est qu'il garde manger la

crème glacée damnés !"

"Notre destin cruel

est qu'il garde manger la

crème glacée damnés !"

Well played!