I don't know. I honestly don't. I guess I

I don't know. I honestly don't. I guess I just snapped or something. Apparently, yesterday, in some sort of fugue state I'd

kept throwing me challenges. Since I lost my leg I came to realise nothing was too hard to try. I broke free from my depression and started living my life. The key moment that

really illustrated my superiority over others was when, despite having only one leg, I was still just so much more Deck than normal slop-eaters, was that special time when I

lost my prosthetic leg down between the slats of the old bridge and had to hop all the way back home. But did that keep me from eating my slops? Nosirreebob, it did not! No one was

gonna prevent me my last simple pleasure. I ate hell outta my slops that noon, then hopped to the shed and grabbed my hatchet. Forget sophisticated prostheses; a simple peg-leg

was going to have to do it for now. My phantom limb syndrome was killing me. I went to the old birch and started hacking out my artificial calves. My once again wasted wife lay on

The lounge chair, drinking a daquiri cocktail. He hadn't touched his yet, he was so busy. Unknown to him, the dog knocked it over and polished it off. It no longer mattered. Three

minutes later the news came in:

proof of GOD's existence had been found.GOD was an amalgamation of humanity's images of him and humanity mere fractures of his psyche.Reality warped as GOD discovered himself.