Precursor: Ever. Burning. Rage.
Body: And the world screeched to a halt. The Son was taken, not for the first time. But I assure you it is for the last.
But enough about me. How about that weather, huh? Total rip-off. It should be puddinging. You know, when pudding falls out of the sky. Or maybe that weather condition where Bacon sprouts out from the ground warm and cooked and all for me. But mostly, let's have a good clean fight. Nothing below the belt. Unless you like it that way. Then let's shovel it in by the barrel.
But, don't take my word for it. Only you can prevent brain fires.
The End: And my mind splinters a touch more. Please donate heavily to the "Save a Mind Foundation" at your earliest inconvenience.
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