"Fucking fatass."
The woman will turn around, eyes wild, searching for whoever
spat the invective at her. She'll see
nothing: just you, burbling and bubbling away while she stands there, ice cream
melting over her hand, frown spreading across her face. She'll approach your surface and toss a
handful of coins in, which will leave you with a pleasant sensation, as if a
dozen tinny fingers are massaging the substance of your being, your not-body.
As she continues to look around you'll suppress your
laughter, just barely. If people found
out you were a sentient fountain that just randomly insulted people, they'd
probably pull you out of the ground and stick you in a laboratory, which would
be awful. It would be very difficult to
look up teenaged girls' skirts in a laboratory.
Congratulations Wonderful Fountain!
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