You finished the last drop of Mountain Dew at the outskirts of your suburb. Sweat is dripping down your face, and your stylish t-shirt is dripping wet. You sit under a crabapple tree to take a break and admire how hard you've worked. Halfway there by now, you think before squinting down the road to see how far you've come. You can still see your house.
GAME OVER YOU FAT ASS. GOD DAMN YOU ARE FAT
We clear up the BREXIT for confused Americans wondering why the global economy is collapsing this time.
BEEP! BOOP! ZAP! Video games aren't for my dad anymore! Because he's dead.
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