Disclaimer: I write this with holy fingers. Have you the balls to challenge god?

Brought to you by Battered Dreams. Not a baking company; we save lives. From drunk drivers. For real. Drinking in driving only ends in death and sadness. Can you handle the sadness? We didn't think so.

We also need money, and appreciate donations.

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Revelations: Book Four

Prologue

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We had to fire the narrator, so it looks like I'll be taking charge.

Yay and glory, for due to my immaculate spelling and mind-blowing usage of grammar, you will no longer have to suffer through all that silly biased and racially prejudice nonsense.

Yay, and you will no longer have to endure reading through such horrible hate-filled words such as towel head, dune coon, chink, kike, nigger, jew, twatwaffle, sand nigger, camel fucker, WOP, daego, grease ball, goomba, Mick, McBastard, short-dicked mick, jigaboo, jungle bunny, and or packy. No, none of that, because I'm Jesus Christ, and I love you.

I love you so much that I will protect you all from those mean and unnecessary words and phrases. Illusions, even! There are but two colors, you see. Light and dark.

Be you the light as Adam, or black as Eve and the snake? Be you light of soul, or dark of skin? Sin, I meant. As sin.

The point is, that the story is left for me to tell, which means that truth will finally be presented to you. For real. Truth.

Truth.

Like your mom always said you should tell. The truth.

Nothing but the truth. So help me god.

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Revelations: part nine eleven.

Takin' nine eleven back (to america (from america))

or

It happened(9/11)

or

……nevermind. Don't worry about it.

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"Alright, 'Jesus'" he said. Blowing his cigar smoke in my face.

I let it slide, because I'm Jesus, and all-forgiving. You should learn a thing or two from me.

"I'm going to teach you a thing or two about god."

"Just what do you have to tell me about things you don't understand, (expletive deleted so your poor soul can handle reading this godly-ness. I can assure you, I said nothing racial.)?"

"That it is a lie, and that is why you do not understand it."

"You're crossing the line, camel jock-(oops. Uh… don't worry about it?). In fact, you're down right pissin' me off."

I'm sweet.

"Your god has told you nothing but lies! You've been a pawn in his game from day one!"

"Pawn? Nah. I'm the queen. And I'm about to cornhole me a checkmate from across the board."

After delivering this badass line, I reveal my two .50 caliber nickel-plated Desert Eagles, and blow him straight to hell with no return ticket, and no chance for refund.

The entire middle eastern army suddenly surrounds the tent. I know this, because I can sense sin. Feel it.

Running out of the tent at full speed, screaming, I pull the triggers simultaneously and at the same time. Turning brown into red, I blow a hole through each and every member on the front line, I dodge roll through mud, and my beautiful white robes do not even stain, because I am divinity.

My pistols sound like machine guns with the quickness of my fingers, and bullets stop all around me. Blowing minds, literally and physically, I manage to defeat the rest of the entire middle eastern army with a bayonet I broke off of one of their crudely fashioned AK-47s.

Jumping from one brown skinned man to the next with the quickness and glory, I extracted the sin from these men using my bare hands. Dropping the knife, I immediately performed my karate.

A roundhouse to one packy, and a chop to another, I cripple the no longer proud nation of afghanistanian. Or was it packy-stan? What the hell is the difference? Either way, I would like to apologize for the profound use of the word "packy" in this paragraph. It was wrong of me, and I only hope you'll stick around long enough for me to rephrase. I killed me some middle easterns.

Their manpower was no match for my godpower. Jesus was with me, because I am Jesus, so technically I was with me in the closest way possible. There is no higher invincibility than this.

After breaking one's neck, I looked around to see the whole army dead around me. I said something like "fuck yeah" or "I'm kickass" but I don't remember it, so we'll move on.

"Why…?"

What's this? A foe that I didn't ki-… A foe that I spared? Yes, it would seem my forgiveness knows no boundaries.

"Why would you do this to your own kind?"

"I didn't. My kind didn't make nine eleven happen. Yours did, and that is unforgivable."

After this, I point the gun at him, and say something kickass like "sayonara, fool!" and pull the trigger.

Smoke comes out of the barrel in a neat little puff, allowing me to blow it away, and make myself look even more badass. This makes me feel the urge to take it a step further, and light a cigarette. After that, I reload my guns.

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Revelations: part nine passed eleven.

or

Gridlee

or

adippagridleeatnynpastdlebm.

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Driving in my pickup truck, I look in the rear view mirror at my badass aviator glasses. I can't help but think about how fucking cool I look in these things.

Taking another sip from the bottle of (soda-pop), I hear a honking sound, until suddenly I'm distracted from myself by a crash!

Looking up, I noticed that not only were these poor fellows not wearing their seatbelts, but they also dun ran into MY FUCKING TRUCK!

Must have been drinking and driving. Now they're dead, and their souls are driving strait to hell. And this road is one way, baby. One way.

Drinking and driving only leads down the long hard road into hell.
(which is only a one way street. The one that goes INTO hell. That one. There isn't one that goes out of hell. Once you're there, you're there. Get it? Seriously.)

Being completely unscathed, and immaculately beautiful, I later managed to steal a car, and continue my quest to find my opposition on this here earth.

The antime.

And that is where this story cuts off, because I'm tired.

And I need a beer.

A cigarette would be nice, too.

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Brought to you by Ronald McDonald, Battered Dreams, And Jesus, in ALL of my glory.