On election night, I went beyond the black rainbow. I got fucked up on Dollar Tree cough medicine and hallucinated that I was Sam Hyde. Believe me when I tell you this: it was hell on earth. One second I was watching the God-Emperor (pbuh) win Florida; the next second, I was Sam in my shit-and-cum stained Trex costume pleading with ancient demons to render the election unto Trump (pbuh). I was surrounded by flashing images of hardcore gay pornography as well as by giant Sam Hyde and Frank Hassle heads making retarded faces and sneering at me and taunting me with unfunny quips from MDE Presents: World Peace. I woke up in a puddle of my own diorrhea and santorum sauce, with Bad Dragon dildoes shoved in both my mouth and my anus. The TV newsman addressed me by name and told me that God-Emperor Trump (pbuh) had lost everything and took his own life in his White House bunker. The whole experience gave me some perspective on what it must feel like to be Sam: a sad, scary, angry, unfunny clown, scam artist, sexual predator, and possible mass murderer trapped in a hall of mirrors. Moral of the story: Don't mix hard drugs with Million Dollar Extreme. You won't only lose your mind, you'll also lose your soul.
i miss when he was a sniveling little boy that hated everything because it was more relatablethe evropa shit is too stressful
