The ending makes it seem like an adjective though.
"Mrs. Connors, I'm afraid you've developed a telekeanthutine infection of the mimemanuel duct, probably brought on by too much crack. There... is no cure."
I am a victim too! Keanutine already existed, and Keanthy already existed, and Keanthutine had already turned up in the crackchat. All I did was take my old Keanthy icon and draw on a cigarette.
In China you still get matches in your room at the hotel. When travelling, while the guy I was sharing the room with was out, I burnt all of them in the ashtray, one after another. He came back, took the other box away from me, and threw it out the window.
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...
*envisions Constantine as Teletubby*
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Telekeanthutine.
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It's starting to look like some sort of bizarre Greek-derived medical term.
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"Mrs. Connors, I'm afraid you've developed a telekeanthutine infection of the mimemanuel duct, probably brought on by too much crack. There... is no cure."
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(crackyou tree)
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(Lost and by the chat grieved.)
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There are no words. There is only Telekeanthutine.
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YOU WIN, YOU WIN
*weeps*
The only thing missing is mime makeup.
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PLZ HELP, JOHN IS EVIL
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And comes to have sex with your family.
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*reverts to Allcaps!Harry*
Re: *reverts to Allcaps!Harry*
Re: *reverts to Allcaps!Harry*
*slinks off, crying*
Re: *reverts to Allcaps!Harry*
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As a crack-addled Madb, I laugh.
But mostly, I'm afraid, I need to borrow your matches for the burning.
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Wait, none of that makes me a victim. Crap.
*runs*
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*burns to death*
See, this is why a draft is bad. People like me don't belong in wars.
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(Pyromania means having 6 empty matchbooks, and 1 empty lighter by your computer..... and not being a smoker.)
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Fire preeeeetty.
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Bring trees.