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It's fuckin' encrusted desicco, my boy. You look like a double-dip chocolate chip with charcoal slim chip with a dark on my nose and Mr. Karkar hunchback, no fuckin' feet, nine-arm, seven stomachs, two ball phasers, step-dad beat you with a wiffle ball bat, you're curled up into a ball like an autistic back hook guard, you live in a sophisticated mud hut, your washing machine has a bucket of water you shake in it, you brush your teeth with your grandpa's back scratcher and you floss your teeth with zipline cables, I caught you jerking off in a port-a-potty with a Thanos gauntlet on me, your grandmother got simultaneously buttfucked by a clan of chimpanzees dressed up as the Wiggles while she was snorting cot-fucking Keemstar's cotton candy G-fuel off the back of a dirty toilet seat, my boy, you were really ugly like shit, you were a walking li-
Y'all. Y'all. Back away from the child. I repeat, back away from the child. He's twelve. Twelve. Twelve. One, two. Twelve. No. Y'all are predators. Back away from that child.