Please do not call me again. I’ve been eaten by a tiger. I’m pretty much gone. You cannot threaten a tornado. Hey, tornado. I’m going to kill your destructive ass. That makes sense, yes, as much sense as Jesus on Sunday and hatred every other day of the week. Hate. Stew. Rage. Bang pots and pans. Throw knives at phantoms. Examine yourself. You might need to do some work. I’ve done all the work I need to do. I am God’s favorite piece of candy. God has sucked all the sugar out. I am not sweet. I am not the one to punish. No belt can reach me now.