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The doctor told me that I suffered from

  • The doctor told me that I suffered from "severely worrisome amounts of gangsta," known most commonly by the endearing term swag. I asked how much longer I had to live when he
  • looked at me with one of the saddest expressions I had ever seen before. "I'm sorry," he responded "there isn't much time left for you." It felt as though my world had collapsed
  • Then the my world literally collapsed, or at lest the floor did.
  • As I fell, my limbs flailed madly, searching for something to grab onto that would at least slow me down.
  • My face was being cut my small vines that hit my face as I continued to fall. The vines were to small to hold onto. My hope was slowly slipping away.
  • Like the vines, I too began to theater at the core of my being. As blood ran down my face puddling in my collar bone, I was slipping away, both physically and (far worse mentally.
  • The groundlings pointed, laughed, and threw rotten oranges at me. This was far too much drama! With the last of my strength, I grasped one of the vines & swung myself over their
  • heads, grabbing the rotten oranges caked on my and tossing them back down at the groundlings. I landed on the other side of the crowd. They ran at me, shouting, but I was too fast.
  • Finally I lay down, panting & laughing. The groundlings piled on me, laughing & singing. It was the cutest scene you can imagine, until their combined weight crushed me to death.

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