Here you go you honry bastard.

ONE DAY, A TOMBSTONE FELL OVER AND FUCKED SOME GRASS. HOW THAT'S PHYSICALLY POSSIBLE WILL NEVER BE EXPLAINED IN THIS NOVEL. SO ANYWAYS, THE FUCKED AND FUCKED AND FUCKED AND FUCKED AND FUCKED AND FUCKED AND FUCKED FOR HOURS ON END WHILE VICTOR WAS OFF FUCKING ANYTHING THAT LOOKED LIKE IT COULD BE FUCKED. THE TOMBSTONE THEN SAT BACK UP AS IF NOTHING HAPPENED TILL IT FELL OVER AGAIN AND WENT THROUGH THE SAME PROCESS. THE END

P.S I've lost control of my life.

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