Name’s Nix. I smug this ‘n that cross the inner system. Mostly moon and Mars smuggin’. Slippy slidin’ stuffy stuff under the nosehairs of Meridian scurity. Me and my crew cut gets our butty butts in some tight spaces. Gets ‘em stuck summer times. I’s the brain pan of our outfit. I shake ‘em and fake ‘em ‘till we blow their housey down down down! Ha!
Hears this peep type guy’s scribin’ my life down. Kinda’ nosey two shoes ifs yous asky ask meeze ‘bout tit. Heeze pickin’ into whats happenin’ ma’am on me. Last days of the Coon and stuffy stuff happenin’ on the Cuss and some bad butt nipper ship that swiped me up and down the inner system it did. My guess is as good as mine that’s this writer peep’s okee-dokee as they come. Tell Nixie’s tale bone goody two shoes true, I’m thinkin’ with my egg noggin. Hopes you takes some intrest in the flip floppy ‘citement done me. He’s workin’ on it. Thinks it’ll be finey whiney. Checks and balance it out your head gear if you gets the chance of a life line.
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