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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 9747 | 2017-09-16 09:34:09 | 93.97 | 98% |
| 7646 | 2017-06-04 00:43:10 | 96.86 | 96% |
| 6724 | 2017-05-06 23:18:25 | 82.04 | 95% |
| 4523 | 2016-06-14 20:08:09 | 95.20 | 98% |
| 4221 | 2016-06-10 13:07:52 | 83.42 | 96% |
| 3735 | 2016-06-03 06:20:56 | 80.13 | 96% |
| 3058 | 2016-05-27 03:24:37 | 84.19 | 98% |
| 2624 | 2016-05-21 01:53:39 | 83.34 | 96% |
| 2082 | 2016-05-12 19:50:40 | 71.75 | 93% |
| 1787 | 2016-05-09 00:33:03 | 76.77 | 95% |
| 1531 | 2016-05-06 00:53:30 | 76.71 | 96% |
| 1314 | 2016-05-05 18:03:03 | 80.11 | 96% |
| 952 | 2016-05-02 22:24:11 | 75.36 | 96% |
| 821 | 2016-05-01 16:52:56 | 69.52 | 91% |
| 207 | 2016-04-24 08:38:23 | 67.72 | 94% |