The Grapeseed Grim Reaper. (9 poems and 3 proses.)

[light thicket]

THE BIG BAD WOLF

An innocent Wolf’s name, viciously teased, mocked by Sheep,
In a prison constructed for animals of adolescence.
The Wolf cried, yet no one aided, despite his weeps
The Sheep tormented the Wolf; his suffering relentless.

The innocent Wolf was trampled, bitten, followed and shoved.
The other animals spectated; their protection never due.
The Wolf was lost and confused; all he showed was love.
A stick of trauma, and a stick of primacy alit a small flame inside that grew…

A skull was bashed;its protective skin was sliced wide open.
A snout was busted and battered; it sprinkled blood.
A degrading pair of lips once smiling, now frowning in a red flood.
And a bullying jaw, was hanging for dear life, dangling broken.

The Sheep’s torments were now goners.
The Wolf’s presence now cautiously ignored
The Wolf had no need to cry any longer.
He doesn’t need anyone’s help, not anymore.

But then, the Wolf was exiled by a Crooked Man.
And the Sheep are treated with love and care.
The Wolf was flashed as ‘Big’ and ‘Bad.’
But he was under torment; this judgement’s unfair.

Returned to the drowsy hole, the Wolf was punished and scolded,
But the Sheep remained golden, and they didn’t change.
The Wolf’s fire was now completely shaped and moulded,
And to the Mother, he confessed his desire for a repeat of the revenge…

                                    Stalking from afar, after six years of his cunning life he was still there.
                            The crafty Reynard is aware of ‘The Big Bad Wolf’, a plan summons from his teeth.
                                          It was indestructible from any foil from anyone who ever dared.
                                Not like his other work; this would be his greatest masterpiece…

MOTHER'S DAY.

Trouble ensued in one troubled drowsy hole.
The Mother howled accusations; back and forth.
She refused the Wolf’s tale he desperately told.
He pleaded her belief; and pleaded some more.

She spun herself around; the other way she went.
Desperately, his paws reached out to yank her back,
The Wolf attempted comfort; he didn’t want any regret
But her cheek stayed turned; her howls began an attack.

The Mother’s dialect now threw up for a fight,
His temperature creeping; he tried to calm it down.
Her limbs pushed out; his grip squeezed tight.
He managed to catch himself; almost hit the ground.

Claws now drawing; breath starts growling
Scarlet pupils bleeding; sharp bones tightly biting
Now she’s witnessing the Big Bad Wolf howling.
She can only manage dashing; no point in hiding.

Zoomed into the kitchen; as fast as she could.
A drawer’s mouth opened; the silver tongue out poking.
She snatched the tongue; His fire inside grew.
She stood in the corner; her throat panicked choking.

Her resilience no use; her chances were slim.
She froze and dropped; and hit the dirt below.
He’s paused in action; he’s now back to him.
His mistake of fatality; his own strength he didn’t know.

No point in hiding; he could only dash.
Out the hole he leapt; and away he went.
He glared at his mirror; so many questions he asked.
He seen a reflection of remorse that was lost in regret.

Minutes later, she was found asleep in the hole,
In a similar way they found the Sheep.
There are more posters up; wanted is the Big Bad Wolf.
Now he must really be careful; he can’t make a peep.

HELL IS ON EARTH, HEAVEN IS IN DEATH.

I'm trapped,
in a hot sweltering pit.
My flesh sizzling, my teeth gnashing,
My screams eternal, my thoughs without wit.
My pain everlasting, and they stand above.
Cackling and laughing.

I am burning, burning, burning

“I’ve found him.”

I’ve cried for help,
I’ve begged to our Father
I’ve tried to climb out,
but I'm never leaving.
All I'm hearing is their maniacal laughter.
Their snickering so clear; mocking my weeping

I am burning, burning, burning

“I think he did this himself; it looks like that anyways. No one else could have been around here; he has no injuries that say otherwise.”

Have I still not paid for my sins?
Is my agonising suffering not enough?
Amidst the soaring red flames I can see him.
O'Father,
Please have mercy,
Please show me your love.

For I am still burning, burning, burning…

“He has something in his bag; some sort of diary I think.”

But, my unholiness will soon collapse.
My nightmares will start fading.
My mind will be safe from attack.
I already sense the cool air swiftly waving

I will be gleaming, gleaming, gleaming.

“Jesus, this kid needed help. Just pages and pages of…oh my God.”

No more troublesome thoughts.
They’ll cease to exist.
I’ll no longer be distraught,
And rest upon peaceful mist.

I will be gleaming, gleaming, gleaming.

“Pleads to God begging his forgiveness, confessions of his…we’ll just call them ‘sins.’ And the words ‘I didn’t do it’ just written all over again, and again.”

Great food will be served.
Songs of harmony will be sung.
All my problems can finally be cured!
Darkness will be destroyed, and there will be only glimmers from the Son!

I will be gleaming, gleaming, gleaming.

“He wrote something at the back too. ‘Hell is on Earth; Heaven is in Death.’ Kid had some serious issues.”

I’ll never ever leave!
I will remain there forever.
All I’ll feel is holy peace.
I’ll see Mom soon; we'll finally be together,

I will always be gleaming, gleaming, gleaming.

“There’s a letter here too inside the notebook…looks like it was written a while ago; he’d probably been planning to do this for a while, if only I got to him first…”

I can’t wait to see you, Mom.

WALKING THE RED CARPET.

A long, crimson carpet guided me forth toward my newly rewarded mechanical carriage.
Flashes blinked greedily, hands victoriously clapped and voices helplessly cried out my name.
They discovered my masterpieces; canvases who dedicated themselves to the art of carnage.
Their blank colour I slashed with red; my art held all the other artists to shame.

As I was escorted down the crimson carpet by my bodyguards of Blue,
I gazed upon the crowd; my face bled with a big red smile.
Claps of victory and cries of my biggest fans caressed my mind; the red had only grew.
I’m glad I could swim the distance of my red, shallow, flooding mile.

When I reached my carriage, they carefully placed me in the back
The iron horses screamed, their legs flared, the crowd soon became faint.
As we trotted through the town, I planned out my ‘disappearance’ act.
And couldn’t help but anticipate what awaited me where all the artists go: the great hall of fame.

TWO SAINTS, ONE SINNER

A dazzling young hole once buried amidst the ripe fields of Grape-seed; a kingdom quiet and tame.
A young Wolf, his mother and a fantastic Fox lived together, casting memories amongst their minds.
Inside the shadows of the young Wolf and his Mother, the Fox alit a gentle, small loving flame.
He brought the Mother a piece of a missing puzzle for the young Wolf that she could not find.

          They sung albums of laughter, each song was a picture framed on the booming walls.
          Their snouts spoiled sweetly with the scent of organic cooking, that almost cradled them in the air.
Their fleshy, gooey hearts glued together, the bond could never fall.
  An unusual small pack together; compatible with      each-other, with so much love and care.

     An uholy Bible rested underneath the Fox’s nest, littered with scripture and quotes of unholy truth.
     The Mother found the Bible, one day it came to be unpredictably discovered.
   Her pupils read and flicked through each page; her heart almost imploded from the proof.
       The fantastic Fox in flesh a freak; a crimson past behind him he covered.

  The Mother demanded and interrogated with howls of fury, an answer she would dig for with her jaws.
 The Fox denied, dismissed, a truth he defused; all to deceptively hide.
 The Mother’s temperature counted to hundreds, she then drew her claws,
   And lurched her paw; she slashed the freakish Fox straight in his dark red eye.

  A threat she then spoke, to cry for the blue lions so he’d be damned.
But the freakish Fox didn’t like that; so from his face, he took off the mask.
The Mother truly saw him now; the rotten, psychotic flesh of the cunning Man.
Had she dared summoned the law…he’d surely tread back.

Slipped back on the mask, the Fox snickered, cackled and wheezed.
Out the hole he sprung, and into the field he crept,
To disappear as he pleased.
The Mother held the young Wolf, and scolded her mirror; for many blue moons he deceived.
The Fox was a cunning artist, and to his ruby burning eyes, carnage was a masterpiece…

WHAT LURKS IN GRAPESEED.

Whispering.

Rustling.

Watching.

Into the aftermath of dawn, the sizzling gold has now melted to rest, and the shadows awake at midnight.
A young Sheep rests in his barn, snoring away in his sweet, sweet dreams.
His warm sheets wrapped around him, protecting his flesh from the air’s chill fright.
A regular night for the Young Sheep…but nothing was like it seemed.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

  The Sheep activated, his head locked onto his window that urged a warning.
  His vision drunk, brain attempting connection, the Sheep massaged his skull until clear.
    The window rang its alarm again; it was desperately calling.
       When his vision was sober, and brain finished loading…his skin froze, blood screamed in fear.

A silhouette.

      A shadow staring in, as still as a tree

The Young Sheep panted, only a nightmare this could be,
His vision quickly ducked underneath his flesh’s shade.
And maybe by the time it would come out, the silhouette …will have fade.

Gone.

His skin soon unfroze, his blood let out a sense of a relief.
Laid back down the Sheep, so he could get some rest.
He snickered that he fell into his cheeky mind’s trap that it made him believe,
A great trick it was that had almost froze him to death!

The door opens. Footsteps welcome in.

 Back up again the Sheep reactivated, his ears traced an intruder above.
 They traced closely, like a Fox cunningly plotting to a kill a chicken.
 But as his ears traced, his wit calculated away, and one problem it solved.
His window was speaking the truth. It wasn’t trying to trick him.

Down,
The,
Stairs,
The,
Footsteps,
Crept,
Closer.

 Quickly! Leapt out and dashed away, the Sheep locked his door so he couldn’t reach his pen.

The steps stalked, they stopped but the Sheep could sense their presence.
He danced around, his vision locked onto his window once again.
He could vanish away, make his escape away from this menace!

To the window he skipped, as did his young heart.
The glass slid open, he promised to dash far.
His legs dangled out; so close to the win—
But a sharp claw quickly yanked him back in…

                                   They wouldn’t have the light to shine through the dark for his name.
                       Blueprints that could never be read, his intentions cunningly sadistic.
                 She would lose her will to live, and he’d be taken to his own hall of fame.
                 They would credit him as the one with the brush…they would label him artistic.

                                                  A plot too fattened, its flesh almost impossible to leak.
                         He’s already quarrelled with them; they won’t believe what he speaks.
                                         The Fox snickered, wheezed and cackled under his teeth.
                 This was yet another work of art, another great masterpiece.

THE FINALE.

A

                                    Crooked.
                Darkened.

                                    Path.
                  So.
                                    
                              Unorthodox.

And

                                                      So.

Beautiful.

Yet,

So,

Tragic.

                        It's always--



                          
                          
        Twisting,
                               Turning.
          Spiralling,

                              Twitching,

Deeper,
And deeper,
And deeper.

                               Furthermore downwards.

From the wit of my head

                                   To the soul of my chest.


                            Glowing
                            
                            Dimmer.
                            
                            And,
                            
                            Dimmer.
                            
                            With
                            
                            Each
                            
                            Step
                            
                            That

                            I
                            
                            Take
                            
                            Until
                            
                            I
                            
                            Reach
                            
                            The

                            Star

The star

                  Is the tree.

The tree is my friend.

It is my escape.

The tree doesn't wear much.

Just a few leaves.

A single branch

With a single brown tie around it.

                                            I will wear its tie

And the tree will hold me.

Like one of its leaves.

I can't wait to be a leaf.

                 I will finally be free.

THE REMORSE.

An empty tomb's welcoming organs gutted by sorrowful claws.
The songs of laughter, scent of organic cooking.
Decimated into breathable waste; an effect of one cause,
A Web that's entangled a blackened mother looking.

Tatted nostalgia fill the silent bodies of quiet walls,
She’s been gazing upon the walls now, ever since her son became a leaf.
Standing at a mirror she thrusts the finger beckoning “It was all your fault!”
Her reflection points the finger at a Mother gnashing her grief.

A silver lonely barrel rests quietly to her left,
Calling her name, offering opportunity of an eternal bed.
Her hand reaches down; aluminium freezing her flesh.
The barrel’s lips now tightly kissing her head.

Her thrusting finger now gently rests upon the barrel's hand,
As the raindrops wept; the finger curled a little more tight.
Her internal lenses cycle amidst her mind's gallery to keep her calm.
Only the smallest nudge of a bone, and the barrel would kiss her goodnight...

THE OPENING OF A WINDOW.

On a soar lump sticking out the jaw of a shining vomiting field, rests a dwarfed wall of stone.
Engraved text of goodbyes and remembrance, embedded onto its body of concrete.
The dwarfed stone stands quietly on the lump all alone.
It awaits for her to close its eyes, so that her mission will be complete.

Footsteps approach.

                        Lump.
                 The,
            Up,

Climbing,

A blackened figure, in her arms she cradles a barrel of paper,
With ammunition that smokes sweet, motherly scent from its tips.
She sets it down, it’s time now, better sooner than later.
The wind gently breathes upon her quivering lips.

Her hands hug, and sit down gently onto her waist.
With her wishes of mercy, the eyes of the wall gently close.
A drop of rain falls down, but it does not splash; it has no trace.
Her mission is not easy, but she takes her time, she takes it slow.

Finally.

Her mission complete, the wall snores quietly asleep.
Before she turns, her eyes demand at least one last peep.
The blackened figure has now achieved molecular hope; dim, but glimmering.
Reality’s mind is too wise, fooled it cannot be. All she can afford is a new beginning…

                     From under a tree, hidden underneath,  his ruby spheres of vision stalk intently.
                He didn’t intend for the tree’s tragic leaf.
                He still won, but in his mind, just barely Was this his first work of art…that was not a masterpiece?

The question demands thought in its pocket, but he decides to pay it mere attention.
Even the most talented make mistakes; he’ll accept reality’s lack of affection.
The mask slips back on once again; the Fox avoids any suspicion seeking.
They’ll never catch him now; just like the leaf…their chance is gleaming.

AUDIO LOG 001

ENTRY TITLE: MISSING TEENS.

DATE: 1/03/10

SUBJECT: SHERIFF WILLIAMS.

“A couple weeks ago the first reports started filing in. Three teens missing; three ages of sixteen and one seventeen. Four students of Charleston’s High.

Thomas Quinton was the first, then days later it was Jacob Barkley. Mere days after Jacob, Shane Maddison was the third, and most recently, just yesterday before March, Bobby Stevenson was filed. I like to refer to them as the ‘Fantastic Four.’ Not exactly the best time to be cracking jokes… although some have said that my humour is… ‘Fantastic.’

It’s unknown how or why they’ve gone missing; this town isn’t really the most exciting attraction when it comes to serious cases. The most you’ll see happen here is the odd fight between two drunks or a duck stealing a bagel from the store. Other than that, it’s usually a very quiet place, quite mundane.

They could be playing some sick prank, or maybe they’ve given in to their rebellious angst and taken off to Australia to pursue their dreams of becoming entrepreneurs… heh, that’s what I always wanted to do as a teen. Move away from Grapeseed and become a “businessman.” Now look at me, I’m the town sheriff and I’m still stuck in this place.

No suspects have been deemed yet, there really isn’t anybody that we could even deem a suspect. Well, that was sort of a lie. There is one name that I’ve heard from parents, and even the principal of Charleston’s, Derek Wells.

Son of Sally Wells and step-son of Mick Froch. I know Sally pretty well; she’s a very kind lady. Although lately she hasn’t looked the best, and Mick Froch… never really liked him, not sure why but I just didn’t. Although I heard he left Grapeseed a year ago, good riddance.

About a month ago, not long before the ‘Fantastic Four’ went missing, Derek got into… we’ll just call it a ‘tussle’ if you will. Kid’s got fight in him, I’ll give ‘em that. But he’s also got some serious amounts of accusations against him.

We brought Sally in after people began suspecting that Derek was the one behind these disappearances; not sure how a sixteen year old could pull this off, although I’m not the conspiracy theorist. She told us that Derek hadn’t been doing well this past year, ever since back in 09’ Sally and Mick had a serious fall-out, and that apparently the ‘Fantastic Four’ found out about this from word-of-mouth and began making comments about it to Derek; he didn’t take them well and… well you know the rest.

She said that she hasn’t let Derek out of the house at all since then, except for only when she needs groceries from the store. Although, it would be possible for Derek to just… sneak out at night. Which is what I said to her. She said that she always locks the house at night so there’s no way anyone can get in.

However, I still believe that Derek could possibly have found other means of getting out the house, if he truly were to be the one behind these disappearances. But the important question I asked Sally was that if Derek had ever mentioned hurting the ‘Fantastic Four’ outside of school.

Turns out, he actually did. She said Derek confessed that he wanted to do a repeat of what he had already done to them. Which is why she would barely let him out. Thing is, I’m not entirely sure how you could beat someone up so bad that they’d just disappear into thin air…

I then asked if he’d been expressing any signs of violence or aggression in the house ever since he auditioned for the next Rocky. She said that he’s actually been rather quiet, keeping to himself most of the time.

I suppose things aren’t actually looking so bad for the young Stallion, but if I were him I’d be keeping my head down. Can’t blame ‘em for beating their asses though. Some people just don’t know when to give, do they?

No real progress has been made on the case so far, we’ve had search parties out but we’ve found nothing. When I was interviewing Sally though, it seemed as if there was something else she wanted to tell me. She’d open her mouth to speak then just seemingly say something else..

Maybe she has a crush on me? Ha, don’t think so old man, you aren’t that charming ‘nor good looking. Well, I am pretty charming if I say so myself.

In the meantime, my main focus will be trying to find the ‘Fantastic Four’. It’s a small town, can’t be that hard to find ‘em.

I’ll update ya’ in a bit, see ya’."

AUDIO LOG 002

ENTRY TITLE: FAMILY DRAMA

DATE: 15/03/10

SUBJECT: SHERIFF WILLIAMS.

“We got a call there a few hours ago, at about three in the morning. Some neighbours on Hat Street reported shouting from a nearby household. We asked them if they could hear anything being said. They told us they heard things like ‘Tell me the truth!’ And ‘What did you do to them!’ When we asked the real important question, they said it was coming from Sally Wells’ house. Heh, it only kept getting better and better.

We took off shortly and arrived there about five minutes after the call. We ran in, bust open the door and searched the place down. Everything in the house was normal except for what, or I should say who was lying in the kitchen… and let me tell ya’, there was a lot more than just shouting going on…

Sally had a pretty deep stab wound; she required immediate medical attention. The knife used was left sitting beside her, we took it as evidence. Oddly enough, there was no sign of Derek whatsoever. So, maybe someone could have broke in? Or maybe… someone didn’t. We took the blade, analysed the fingerprints and what came back… well, you’ve probably guessed it by now,They were Derek’s.

I didn’t want it to be true but… with everything going on lately with that kid. Beating up the ‘Fantastic Four’, admitting he wanted to harm them even more, and now this… it isn’t looking too well for the kid.

Sally was taken to the local hospital only minutes after. She was unconscious for a while before she woke up. When she did, we asked her a ton of questions. When asked if Derek stabbed her, she did say ‘yes.’

We asked how this altercation came to be, she said that she had ‘growing suspicions’ of Derek ever since he apparently snuck out of the house near the start of March. She told us that he said to her he snuck out because he wanted to go to apologise to Bobby Stevenson.

Although, it gets even more interesting, buckle up. Sally even said that Derek told her he saw a dark-clothed figure carrying what looked like a large bag away from Bobby’s house. Now, we then questioned if Derek knew where this Figure had taken the bag, but she said that she doesn’t remember if he told her or not.

Ok, so now we have two possible suspects—well, one possible suspect and the other possible, but not as possible ‘nor believable really. Derek Wells, or the ‘Reaper.’ I’m calling the guy Derek supposedly saw the ‘Grim Reaper’ now since that’s what he sounds like. Personally, I think this Reaper that Derek saw might have been a bunch of bull**** from the kid. Out of everyone in this town he’s the only one who makes sense to be behind these disappearances. Not sure how he’d be able to do it, but… I suppose there’s a first time for everything.

Derek hasn’t been seen since; we’ve got search parties out looking for him too, along with parties looking for the still-not-found ‘Fantastic Four.’ And me? I’ll keep a look out for the ‘Grapeseed Grim Reaper,’ Ha. But on a serious note, I need to find Derek before he turns the ‘Fantastic Four’ into the ‘Fantastic Five’ or makes the count go higher. That includes the kid hurting anyone else… or even himself.

I’ll update ya’ in a bit, see ya’.”

AUDIO LOG 003

ENTRY TITLE: WHAT NOW?

DATE: 10/04/10

SUBJECT: SHERIFF WILLIAMS.

“We found them.

On the twenty-seventh of March, deep in Grapeseed Forest, in an abandoned barn near a lake. We found the ‘Fantastic Four’, probably isn’t best to call them that now. When we found… Well, what was left of them, we were given more clues to who actually did all of this.

The bodies were…that’s if you could even call them bodies anymore, were all in the barn, just waiting to be found I suppose. We managed to find this place from Derek’s diary. He wrote in the page how he followed the Reaper down here, although who knows if that’s the truth or if Derek just wrote this to try and salvage his name at any cost. But I just don’t see how a sixteen year old kid could do any of this.

Written on the wall of the barn, just above what I call the ‘Monstrosity’, was a message written in blood, probably the blood from the Monstrosity. It read ‘They made me cry, so I made them cry.’ It’s impossible to not immediately think of Derek and his feud with them about six weeks back. Who else would write this?

After we found the ‘Monstrosity ,’ parents were contacted right away. We didn’t want to show them…you-know-what so we just told them that we found their bodies in the barn and that was it.

It’s been about a couple weeks since the funerals happened. Very, very, very dark day. Maybe the darkest day in Grapeseed’s history. Five dead boys in their late teens. Four found murdered and the other…God, it hurts thinkin’ about it.

Sally and the parents of the other four were…devastated to say the least, and so was everybody else. The entire town came together, even those who didn’t particularly like each-other came together too. Even amidst this tragedy, it was still nice to see everyone help and support each other through a bad time like this. You know, despite my history with this town, one thing I’ll always appreciate is the folk around here; they can make ya’ feel real welcome when it matters most.

Even though Derek was found guilty of…this, a fellow Officer of mine pointed out a very interesting detail about the Monstrosity we found. You see, years ago, all the way back in nineteen ninety, all the way across the United States in another town called ‘Clementine,’ there was a very bad man, whom the law had arrested and sent to St. Patrick’s. A hospital for the most dangerous and violent people on the planet.

The Man I’m referring to is called ‘Victor O’Hara,’ a serial killer who saw death and mutilation as some sort of…artistic expression I suppose. Now, you may be thinking ‘what does this have to do with anything related to Grapeseed?’ Well, the Monstrosity we found, is a very similar monstrosity to Victor’s past artistic pieces. The Officer explained how only Victor O’Hara would be the kind of man to do something like this… but the thing is, O’Hara hasn’t been seen in years. He did end up going missing after he was sent to St. Patrick’s. They’re not even sure if he escaped or just didn’t make it to the hospital. I find it very odd he’d just randomly show up to Grapeseed all of a sudden and kill a few random teenagers. See, Victor usually liked to kill people who could easily kill him. His list of victims includes Veterans, Officers, Marines, all those types of guys and gals.

I just can’t see why O’Hara would be the one behind this, or even be that ‘Grapeseed Grim Reaper’ that Derek supposedly saw… I mean, it’s not like it’s impossible, but it’s just very, very, very unlikely.

Even then, I’m still fully unsure that Derek actually did it as well. There’s just no way in the space of a month, he could have successfully murdered and hid four bodies inside that barn and got away with it for that long, there’s just no way… and yet, everything points to him…

Nothing can be done now though, I suppose all that can be done is to just keep on going forward and keep on trying to help each other through these dark times. Maybe this is how things are now, and maybe there’s nothing we can do about them…but we can let them help us grow, and not define us I suppose.

Although as much as I try to just carry on, I can’t help but obsess over this feeling I have that there’s one piece of the puzzle that’s missing. Shortly after the funeral, I was speaking with Sally at her house over a cup of tea; I had offered to spend some time with her so she could have company. She asked me for a description on the bodies of the missing teens. At first, I hesitated because the state those poor teens were left in could make the Devil feel sick. But, I told her anyways.

And as I told her, her face lit up. As if she had realised something, and being in the Law for years, it was easy to tell.

But, she never spoke a word. She just kept that look of realisation and didn’t make a peep. I was gonna’ ask if she wanted to tell me something or if she knew something but…I had a gut feeling she wouldn’t say otherwise. Plus, with everything that’s happened to the poor woman this past year, I didn’t want to pry.

Goodbye for now…I’ll see ya’ soon, and update ya’ in a bit.

There, all done. @wooden lichen talk all you want now 🤣🤣🤣

That's what she said

@hidden ice

Are you going to (try) read this bad boy?

[hidden ice]

WOAH- this feels like getting a present when it's not a special holiday!

[light thicket]

Can't tell if this a yes or no lmaoo

Damn u right that shi was 🔥 😪

[sturdy carbon]

No