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I forgot about Hitler

Plundered shortly after October 3, 1999.

Hey, look, it’s Jesus! Jesus Christ!

He was on the plane I took back to America this Tuesday. I saw the letter Æ in his hand. He had a bag full of Englebee Troobles. Live Englebee Troobles! I begged him to at least see them, see what they looked like, ask them if they liked to have stars screaming at them, and spiders singing at them, and if they wanted to borrow my tub of butter.

Jesus wouldn’t let me see them. He didn’t want me to talk to them, either. He kept the bag closed, as the Englebee Troobles meowed and farted inside. I thought he was very evil. But then again, I forgot about Hitler. And my lunch. My lunch was stupidly evil. It had jumped off the table, betrayed me, and tried to climb up my nose and then out my ears. I had to force it to exit through my anus. So I cried, and bit Jesus.