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Brian

Xeno Gamer's Regular Day ft Silence

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To this day, I lie awake in my bed at night, sobbing, crying, mourning in ridiculously-loud wails of sorrow, wondering why I died that round. Flashbacks of that game swirl around my face in a grayscale mosaic of super ****ing sadness. "I was on the couches!" I shout, my voice veiled by the throbbing pangs of personal pain. "What did I do wrong?!"

 

And then my life flashes before me. The time I slapped my mother because she told me I was always talking back to her, the time I tied the ears of every animal at the pet shelter together and created my own centipede monstrosity, the time I legally named my daughter ***** so that she would never forget who she was or who that worthless woman of a mother she had was once before I took matters into my own hands and stabbed her...

 

Then the flashback reaches present day. There I am, on the couch, watching the CT's through dreary, desensitized eyes, uncertain of where I am, uncertain of who I am. But then, suddenly, it hits me, and I understand what is going to happen. They are going to kill me, because it is right. They are going to kill me because that is what God would have done. They are angels, every single one of them -- King J, the Gabriel to my madness, Charlie Sheen, the Michael to my sins; and they are there, smiting me because of my evils. Once and for all, they are cleansing this fair earth of the trash, of the sheer unrepentant detritus that fills it. I am one of those evil men they must kill. It is my time. I must go, and so they kill me.

 

WELL GUESS WHAT *****ES, I RESPAWN NEXT ROUND HAHAHA SUCK IT CT'S

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