The Wicked Bitch of the North was melting.
We were all sad to see her go. Who else would, by means of a crystal ball, tell us what stocks to buy? Who else would brew the potions, and spill the tea?
If only the Bitch had got vaccinated.
Yeah, that had been a blind spot of sorts.
Her arch-enemy, the Kanye of the West, was quite vocal about how dumb this was.
As another adversary, the Kanye of the East, clarified, most vaccines were developed by that race of creatures with the big noses and there was obviously a conspiracy so why be stupid? Get immunity first and kill the motherfuckers later.
As the crowd of inbred dipshits watched the final suffering of the Bitch, they failed to observe the molten lava streaming from the volcano towards their homestead
A big bird smelled the scent of incineration, signaled to her chicks, who were molting, snapped them up in her beak, and took off for the safety of Tax Shelter Island.
Down at The Kwik Mart, a pizza delivery guy was buying.$75 worth of scratch-off lottery tickets.
Before failing to win, meaning every single card, he would state the odds. He should have worked in finance. He could have been famous. They would have called him The Direwolf of Wall Street. At least then he would have been saved from being dead, which is what was about to happen to the whole town.
Down on the corner, the drug dealers were drinking malt liquor. Being that high, they would feel the least pain in the coming moments. But the sad philosopher knew he was better than they were, because what authentic life does not contain suffering?