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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 8516 | 2023-02-21 09:11:04 | 64.12 | 97% |
| 7135 | 2020-03-03 05:21:27 | 49.27 | 98% |
| 3691 | 2016-04-14 03:32:39 | 50.51 | 86% |
| 2564 | 2016-02-24 03:34:05 | 55.76 | 94% |
| 2244 | 2016-02-16 13:09:11 | 56.35 | 93% |
| 1251 | 2016-01-26 05:02:57 | 43.92 | 91% |
| 528 | 2015-12-21 06:51:21 | 44.13 | 91% |
| 473 | 2015-12-20 13:28:27 | 48.41 | 96% |