Install Steam
login
|
language
简体中文 (Simplified Chinese)
繁體中文 (Traditional Chinese)
日本語 (Japanese)
한국어 (Korean)
ไทย (Thai)
Български (Bulgarian)
Čeština (Czech)
Dansk (Danish)
Deutsch (German)
Español - España (Spanish - Spain)
Español - Latinoamérica (Spanish - Latin America)
Ελληνικά (Greek)
Français (French)
Italiano (Italian)
Bahasa Indonesia (Indonesian)
Magyar (Hungarian)
Nederlands (Dutch)
Norsk (Norwegian)
Polski (Polish)
Português (Portuguese - Portugal)
Português - Brasil (Portuguese - Brazil)
Română (Romanian)
Русский (Russian)
Suomi (Finnish)
Svenska (Swedish)
Türkçe (Turkish)
Tiếng Việt (Vietnamese)
Українська (Ukrainian)
Report a translation problem
g hy ..
Help was born from the voluptuous womb of Steve Jobs himself, a mere two months ago. In the beginning, Jobs' mighty folds kept Help safe in the cold of this cruel, cold world. though in cruel tradition so many fall under, Help is ripped from the ,extremely plump, arms. No cry from either could intervene-not even that fried, monotonous robot screech that hails from Jobs.
Help, despite his development as a ageing fellow, still cries for the cushioned cradling of his mother, Steve Jobs. he reminds himself, day after day ' I will find him again, Big Momma.'