In an oh-so familiar Manchester flat, there was the sound of a pen squeaking on a whiteboard. It was early in the morning, with only one person awake, and that person hadn't learned. Not a word was uttered and not a sound was made, other than the pen on the whiteboard, and the only thing to be heard was the fast heartbeat of someone on edge.
By now, it was an addiction. They couldn't help it.
Meanwhile, Waluigi was listening to FVN! and having the time of his life. He suddenly knew Spanish as well.
'No sé sime quiere' o me tienes manía
Pero tú te acuerdas de mí to' los WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!'
oooooooh im getting all dramatic and fancy ooooooooh