You may be wondering why I'm basically screaming and tearing my hair out.
My brother found my book of short stories and Edgar Allen Poe's poems. So I was like,'NO. CHU NO TOUCH MY BOOK.' But he takes it outside. Guess what? Two hours later,IT RAINS. MY BOOK IS LYING IN THE MIDDLE OF THE FLIPPING YARD.
I ask you this:Why,world? WHY?!?!
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Freeze your brain
Queen of horror stories & teller of morbid jokes
"Fools who run their mouths off wind up dead."
"And Montrasaur is like DUDE INDEED"-Red