Back to the tower, after a pleasant pilgrimage between the recesses of space and time. The structure remained intact. Even the recent earthquake was able to tilt it. I take my place on the bench and look out the window higher. I look and smile. Gor, meanwhile, prepares stew ... Your degeneration leaves me at the same time surprised, disgusted and indifferent. A real demon can hear all this together and even more. The tragedies are turned into opportunities, the market demand of death and you are immediately ready to respond. Suffering becomes a share. Tears in cash. The cries of despair mingle with the street cries of advertising. This is amazing, wonderful and terrifying. Well done ....
And in the meantime the Great Machine continues to grind a nutshell, shredded human flesh. The brains are switched off, or maybe too busy. What difference does it make? The important thing is to sleep the sleep injected from the machine.
The spectacle of death is the essence of your economy. Other than oil! Destroy and then GDP, GDP, and then rebuilt, and then declared war GDP, GDP, and then you die. So even the natural disaster is an opportunity. One scoop for every death, a job for each displaced person, a gain for every loss.
Gor is calling me downstairs. I have to go and help with the ingredients, or risk finding myself in the foot plate of one of his concubines. It is a creature distracted, you know ...
'll try to make me feel more often, although lately I think that is repeating itself. What else can I tell you again? The important things to know already, after all Demons are like me ... The problem is that you forget all the time.
"Behold Gor! Pose now that acceptance, there will not be needed. In town I bought the pork ... "
0 comments:
Post a Comment