I am turning into gas now. My legs first. Will I ever turn back into a man? What happens now? Will I still be alive or will I be nothing but gas? Goodbye.
It is hard to accept that everything I wanted in life is gone, but I am now a fart.
|Fume Wizzard reeked:|
You're no fart. It is just what is next for us. We'll be okay.
Everyone on TV is gone. Some channels are pre-recorded, reminding me of what existed before this. My body feels hot. I hope this doesn't hurt and if it does hurt it is fast.
I will dissolve into smoke cursing your stench, Barack Hussein Obama.
I am really scared. I don't know what to do.
It started. My shoe fell off. It doesn't hurt. Will we need to eat something? What can we eat? I hope my mom is there. Weird though, I'm not afraid. Just curious.
This is it! Go time! I'll build a whole new world as a gas master. Cars and planes will be useless, but I will make a vacuum pump to convey us through our cities of gas. I have a vision. I've been ready for this for my whole life. Ready. I can feel it starting now! Like carbonation in my veins. Got to finish this before my hands go, but I wanted to say: see ya on the other side!
I will miss movies and pizza most, but we will all be equal as gas. I'm not afraid. I'm ready too. I hope we turn into one big, smelly cloud and come out in the rain and are water men too.
I have used my bot to create Olive Garden commercials. This is a bot I have. Don't question it.
Following America's defeat in World War 3, allied forces uncovered a number of experimental weapon prototypes in the hotel-compound of Trump's loyalist Space Force army. Had the war continued just a few more months, these secret weapons would have changed the course of the war.
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