I've got what we in the business call writers block. I cant get rid of it. And considering i have 2 days to figure out what I want to write my final scene about, I'm a little fucked. Thankfully i have 2 days to just figure it out, but 2 weeks to actually write it. So considering maybe 4 or 5 people tops read these journals anymore I'm gonna go
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so there's my little story. you need anymore diabetic related shananagians just let me know
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3 minutes in it turns out one of the men is allergic to nails and starts swelling up and vomiting uncontrollably.
this sight causes the other man to vomit uncontrollably.
the floor is now so slick with vomit causing one of them to slip and fall on a nail that goes straight into his eye socket killing him instantly.
the not dead one is declared the winner by default and receives a trophy in the shape of squirrel.
he celebrates his victory by dancing on the corpse of his fallen comrade whilst still vomiting.
if that shit doesn't get you a grammy i don't know what will.
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