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The 7th Cuil

On the 7th Cuil, you ask me for a hamburger. Instead of giving you a hamburger, I give you an entire pizza. The contents of which are that of cheese, salsa, and various miniaturized random objects, such as small cactuses, and staplers. Among the the toppings include black cats, the size of your thumb. They look up at you, begging to be devoured. You take a bite, only to discover the the very crust of the pizza, is that of non-existence, and negativity. The few miniature cats bleed static as parts of them were removed during the bite. They don't make a sound. You begin to chew. Earthquakes ripple along various continents at random. When you finally swallow, you begin to no longer exist, your tonsils and uvula immediately remove themselves from the rest of you. Soon enough, they are all that is left. A baby becomes the leader of a new world. You cannot hear, see, or taste anything anymore, yet you still feel the very core of reality. You tonsils sing the Macarena in a symphony of unconventional sounds. You know awaken in a field of hamburgers, which grow from clouds. Flowers roost upon your back. You are soon enslaved by a rave of pickle men, and are fed black cat's for the rest of your natural life. You strangely approve.
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Added: 5 years, 11 months ago
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