"I would rather be in heaven when i can enjoy its Pleasure. When I'm alive and human. Not when I'm dead, rotting in a grave and can't use my penis anymore."

    Those were the last words of a certain, just another thirty-years-of-sweat-for-a-measly-one-time-meal-a-day, pay-the-loan-to-the-land-lord-just-to-pay-a-minister's-tax-to-the-village-chief-even-though-you-are-a-measly-dirt-smeared-on-your-smile-that-gets-washed-away-with-the-tears-that-trickle-down-through-the-same-dirt-that-sits-stubborn-on-your-cheeks-like-the-lords-of-the-village-sit-arrogantly-on-the-pile-of-money-that-you-watered-with-your-blood-and-that-you-nourished-in-your-soil-that-held-the-burden-of-the-sun's-load-of-loan-which-now-you-have-inherited-from-your-father-who-was-also-a-farmer farmer.

Now, wait a minute. That's not true.  Everything sits just right except the fact that his father was not a farmer. Now, don't get your hopes in the wrong direction, for he was not a king, but do get it high, for his father was a two-piece, no good, thief who stole the smoking, hot, beautiful blood of the glorious clan of Testosterio and gave birth to his son, Longus Schlongus Hardus Cockus- A.K.A Johnny Bravo. Alright, I'm kidding. He was also known as Johnathan Schaft.

Hey, now that I think of it, that was not the only thing Johnny boy said before he killed the land lord, took the village lord as a hostage, caused an uprising in the Land Of Seven Seas, convinced the whole village to go against the emperor of the glorious nation of Dicklantis, and get throned as the successor of the-- Who am I kiddin'! It's not gonna make a sensible, well woven  collection of the greatest, glorious, most tragic, happiest, humorous, darkest, hundred-million-rabbit-holes-that-all-lead-to-the-same-land-flush-with-green-wet-with-blood stories that led to the greatest war mankind was sucked into if I were to continue hurling words like a bag of wet laundry without a second's thought. It's just an injustice in the face of the gazillion pages of history that were not included in your syllabus because it was too fun and held too many secrets not to exploit.

So, I've made up my mind to lay out this epic poem of a glorious time that humankind had to live through word by word, sentence by sentence, chapter by chapter so that you can spend the rest of you apathy filled, loser days hosting a white ball of fire inside your belly that grows into you chest and into your heart as this story progresses and finally emerges out of your skin as a new you- a winner you and takes over the world like Stallonus Shwartzeniggerus did before he was exiled into the deepest  currents of the third great sea.  But don't you worry about being exiled by a bunch of 76 BC communists because you won't live for five hundred years life Stallonus did. Nonetheless, if you click on the button on the bottom-right corner, you can start with seeing how Johnny Schaft got ungly brown scar on his left upper arm. Go on, don't feel shy . . . . . . . . . . . ya two piece, no good, loser who can't even watch a two minute video on Youtube without being pulled into doom scrolling hundreds of thousands of Instagram reels, Youtube shorts and tiktok's whatever for at least seven times in the last fourteen seconds. . . . . . . . . . click that button.