So my thought is, if the worms are after me. . .there's just no point in going out with a whimper. Time to trade the last, tattered vestiges of Adventism for some tight black leather & lace, score the above fiddle/nuclear-harpoon, add several strategic bling-piercings and punch out of the chrysalis. As what--who the hell knows. Something deadlier than a 4th-generation missionary to the formerly free Hong Kong.
Shall we gather by the river??
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