Once, my hand was lopped off by a brigand. I cut off his head and used his skull as a bowl to eat my morning cereal. Did this for forty days and nights, each time yelling at the wound, demanding its subservience. When it rotted away, I had it drawn and sextupled, for insubordination, treason, and consorting with the enemy. The cells in my body
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I'd probably explode. I'm a wussy.
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Haven't you seen it?
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