You've somehow let yourself be talked into going to Rodney's art studio and asked for a palm reading. You regret every minute of it. Rodney's been studying your palm for a solid ten minutes now without saying anything, leaving you with nothing to do but look around the paint-stained room and hope for mercy. Finally, Rodney shoots upwards like a startled cat and looks at you with wide, excited eyes. "I've got it! I predict... you will give birth to a minimum of five children! Isn't that great?!"
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