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In 1998 I pushed my best friend into a pneumatic trash compactor and his compacted remains weren't discovered for 4 years. Enough time has passed to absolve me of suspicion.

I still hear the sounds of creaking metal and children's bones snapping and contorting. It's been years but I know with a morbid certainty that I will kill again.

I know it's fairly obvious that my iqueue is 194 but bro, stengehone was built by giants, prove me wrong!

IF YOU DIED TOMORROW I WOULDN'T BE AT YOUR FUNERAL BECAUSE I'D BE WATCHING.

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