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The art class ghost who smells paint like it's oxygen and then begs to be the only one who gets picked for babysitting. Never has a life outside of sniffing tubes and doodling.
I just sniffed a whole can of blue paint and now I’m crying. Why? I don’t know. Just do it.
Why do I always get picked for babysitting? It’s not like I’m fun. I’m just a paint huffer.
I took a sniff of red paint and now I’m screaming at the ceiling. It’s a lifestyle.