Text race history for ​​ (robby250)

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I was stealing saltshakers again. Ten, sometimes twelve a night, shoving them in my pockets, hiding them up my sleeves, smuggling them out of bars and diners and anywhere else I could find them. In the morning, wherever I woke up, I was always covered in salt. I was cured meat. I had become beef jerky. Even as a small, small child, I knew it would one day come to this.

Game Time WPM Accuracy
556 2016-05-11 11:47:08 114.84 97%
472 2016-01-20 12:57:04 94.13 90%