“Hail Hydra!” If the goofy-ass government assumes all their conspirators and co-conspirators are star-spangled super soldiers sipping secret serum to surge their stupidity and stop an evil empire from dominating, I guess I’ll have to play the part of the vigilant villain. So, call me “Brown Skull!” And if I were toting the Tesseract, I’d totally terrorize this wildly wicked, war-ridden, worsening world with wondrous weapons aimed at every enemy establishment housing or hosting hateful humans who allusively attack and affront as opposed to being brave, bold, and ballsy enough to stand proudly in their pusillanimity and openly offend me for no fuckin’ reason whatsoever. For the record, the day I respect any of you is the day Captain America and Captain Marvel are teleported from television land to la-la land (here), where they’ll copulate and conceive a beautiful baby boy who is born with magic powers and is later recruited by S.H.I.E.L.D., where he’ll be stupidly sent on a suicide mission to use said powers to control my mighty mind in foreseeably failed attempts to make me consider the concept of care and concern for conspirators and co-conspirators. In this storybook scenario, when the Captains’ child catches me, he’ll manage to telepathically trade thoughts for a split second, where I’ll give a fraction of a fuck about y’all for fractions of a mere moment. Afterwards, I’ll kindly KO the kid and kick him high into the sunny sky. Until then, fuck y’all, kill your motherfuckin’ selves, and I hope all y’all fuckin’ die! Get the fuck out of here! I mean what I stay strongly stating. My mighty mind is made up, and I’m not bipolar or suppressing sadness. I’m regularly, repetitively, perpetually, persistently telling y’all stupid asses to get the fuck gone and go with your God! But yes, lawsuits loom regardless. Your Honor, harassment’s harassment, right? Co-conspiring in a corruption-centric conspiracy confirms that y’all don’t stand for shit—you talk tough for likes and looks but follow fools and coddle conspiring corruptors. There are eight billion blood-pumping bodies on this perishable planet, and you’re all replaceable! Crockett can’t clap back forever, the Obamas only offer opinions at this point, “The Breakfast Club” is burnt, boring, and close to cancellation, and the list is a lot longer. Like I said, change can’t come from conservation. Y’all gotta go! What’s more, there are four billion women out there—that’s lots of lovely ladies and compatible chicks to choose from. Bye, bullshitting, bad-mouthing bitches! And fix your fuckin’ faces, weirdos. Nah, something’s seriously the matter with y’all, ma’ams, sorry. Anyhoo, Pedro Pascal probably knows who I am, and if he doesn’t, Jon Favreau will warn him of the so-called secret society’s sad, sadistic sacrifices of actors, artists, and anyone answering to an alliterative appellative. Right, Jon? By the way, Fortnite’s fun, and I caught the clip, Jon. Moving on, would y’all like to know who else constantly comes up on my totally taken over timeline? Plenty of people, which include Cherokee D’ass and Chyrstale Wilson—“Ronnie” from “The Players Club.” Now, when it comes to poom poom-popping porn stars, I’ve only had a few favorites. I watched and wanked to “Dena Caly” ‘cause I like her big, beautiful smile. What, TMI? Then, there was “Roxy Reynolds,” a little chocolate motherfucker named “Hershey,” of course “Skyy Black,” and a couple others. Later, I caught on to “Jenise Hart,” who is cool with the co-conspirators, and is also always tacked to my timeline. Jenise, if you’re reading this, if you weren’t a previous prostitute with excellent experience in explicit extracurricular entanglements, I’d consider your chocolateness worthy of worship. However, respectfully, dignity and determined decency matter more than an attractive appearance when putting poom poom power on a pedestal. Do I sound like a simp or sucker to y’all? Unfortunately, a lot of your dads and the dudes poisoning your perception of masculinity and manhood are toxic and immensely insecure. And for a few fellows, you know who you are, you’re good as gone! But I won’t delve deep into this touchy topic, because birdbrained bitches be biting. However, if you can’t tell the distinctive, defining difference between someone who loves ladies and someone who likes laying ladies down, you’re stupid. And that same stupidity is why y’all got me fucked up to the point where your lives and legacies are shit-stained forever. Because soon…
Omniscience