holy shit

Excuse me, who are you? Come closer. And speak up for God's sake. Tell me again what you just said. No, there's no use in bein' shy.

You don't know your real parents? They left you all alone and up for the takin'? Come on, closer. Let me get a better look at your face. Ah. Yes. You're a good looking boy, aren't you. Attractive. Healthy. Nice and lily-skinned too. And look at all that gorgeous blonde hair. It's a surprise that no one picked you up right away. You know, I saw lots of kids like you back where I was. They're the ones that always got the first glances. Me? I'd comb my hair, put on my best dresses, smile wide and be as sweet as I could be. No matter what I did, I was never pretty enough. Never sweet enough. The other kids? Never had to do a damn thing. They didn't have to try. Would you like to guess why? Because they all looked just like you. I was different. People saw the best in the other kids. With them they saw the poor, sweet parents who tragically died before they could care for their precious angels. Me? Clearly I was trash, thrown out by some irresponsible knocked-up skank, just another dark face cloggin' up the system, probably better off dead. Besides, I would never fit in with the families I saw. Who wants the pressure of sendin' their kid to one of those separate and not-quite-equal schools? To be seen in public with a lil' girl that just didn't seem to match?

Think about that before you go blatherin' your story to any pair of ears that'll listen. What do you have to feel bad about? You walked out that door a free man. When you left the system your troubles were over. The world was yours for the takin'. The whole world worships your kind. Some of us? We'll never be wanted. We never get to leave.

That cheer you up, Sniper?