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Every religion had some kind of special weapon to fight them. lol.
My brain just doesn't understand how to tell a story. It's like a hyper-active child trying to say everything all at once.
The characters, the settings, my own narrative, all change and morph right before my eyes.
It all seems reasonable while I'm dreaming, but the moment I wake up and think about it, I'm like WTF was that?
Me: 500 pounds of Grade A Vanilla Bean Ice Cream.
Dealer: 100,000 dollars of unmarked bills.