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Yet Another Singularity

quite a decent sort of chap, really.

things that decay, things that rust
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My parents had trouble conceiving, so they wrapped a bottle of vodka, a voodoo doll, and a copy of Wuthering Heights in burlap with pianowire, buried it in the turnip patch out back, and a year later I sprang from the ground, fully formed.

Their plan worked except I fucking loathe turnips. I do have magical powers, though. Also, sometimes I lie.

When I die I want wild animals to eat me, because that's the natural order of things.