He had been provoked, and he stomped through my head like Godzilla trying to shake Tokyo down to splinters. Each echo left shockwaves of a migraine behind, enough to make me reach up every now and again and rub the temples of my forehead. Brian had looked over and asked if I was alright, and I couldn't even remember what I had said. Probably
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It says something, I think, about the Nation when you define the higher forms of love as "I know you'll kill me if you have to", doesn't it?
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*twitch*
Jesus on a gas powered pogo.
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