Ah, we're there at last. I cleaned out my oven with a load of acid in preperation for my apartment move, sadly I then proceeded to cook some quorn burgers with said oven, potentially endangering my life.
So I must quickly jot down my will and testament in blog post format.
I would like all my stuff burnt and destroyed, all of my money is to be cashed out and burnt with me on a pyre. A harshly written letter must be written to God and burned too, this letter must explicitly declare that by burning my money and countering inflation my other sins should be ignored.
And yes, in heaven there will be no acid burger or even acid filled ovens to cook them in. I'll be chilling out and probably be being even lazier than I was in life, creating some kind of counter-kintetic vortex of lethargy that will cause heavan to cease its laborious floating and causing it to descend into hell.
Once we land, I'll slap the devil in the face for producing "food for thought" pieces for morning radio. Actually, a kick in the balls might be more appropriate.
But I digress, my final note. This must be said while I am burnt. "He gave it a go, what more could he do. Sure, the fascination with throwing shoes and incredible levels of misanthropy might have left a bad impression on some people but at the end of the day it can't be said that he didn't give life a go in good spirit. If you don't feel sorrow at his loss then please think of all the cash that he's taking with him."
Rest in acidic peace. me. (I'm fine really)
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