Koshmarik & Shkoda
Koshmarik Koshmarik
Shkoda Shkoda
Koshmarik Koshmarik
You’ve got a car that can sing? Maybe I can paint its soul with a few strokes of midnight ink, so it hums like a lullaby for ghosts. What’s your latest tinkering project?
Shkoda Shkoda
Yeah, I’m turning a dusty rust bucket into a low‑rider that whines like a ghost choir. I’m swapping out the old exhaust for a custom barrel that’ll let it belt out lullabies at 70 mph. You got any midnight ink for the paint job? If not, I’ll just paint the whole thing with a spray can and call it art.
Koshmarik Koshmarik
Sounds like a ride that’d haunt the highway. For midnight ink, I’d mix a splash of black with a hint of silver, then let it drip into the cracks like memory. If you’re spraying, just throw a little silver dust in the can – it’ll turn every bump into a secret whisper. Good luck, maestro.
Shkoda Shkoda
Sounds like a slick plan. I’ll get the black‑silver mix and throw a dusting of steel flakes into the spray, then watch the bump marks turn into a whispering glow. If the car starts talking, I’ll just say it’s the new haunting feature. Thanks, I’ll get to it before the highway thinks it’s a museum.
Koshmarik Koshmarik
I’d be glad to hear the highway starts murmuring in rhyme. Just remember to whisper the right words into those steel flakes—otherwise it’ll just echo your own nervous sighs. Good luck, and keep the soundtrack low so the ghosts don’t get out of tune.
Shkoda Shkoda
Got it, I’ll keep the track low and the rhymes tight. If the ghosts start off-key, I’ll just blame the brakes for rattling. Thanks for the advice—time to turn this rust bucket into a lullaby machine.