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Literature

If I had a time machine

Dear Mr. A Jackson, I want to feed you a running chainsaw. Just right down your throat. It'll fit, chainsaws have this funny way of making room for themselves. I don't appreciate you or what you did. I would appreciate your screams of agony as I hold open your tear ducts and let fire ants crawl into the recesses of your punctured ocular sockets, but sadly, your face is already a skull. Yet another thing you have stolen. When is enough enough? I'm not sure if it's science, but if I had a time machine, I would come for you. I hope you're ready. When I die, your ass is mine. Go fuck yourself. Mr. Empty.