"I'M SORRY, MISTER FLOPNUTS" I screamed into the chill Missouri air, my blood spattering the rocks that line the highway in that part of the state.
"IT'S TOO LATE NOW, CLAY," he screamed in reply. "YOU'LL NEVER TROLL AGAIN!"
"YOU'RE RIGHT I WON'T! I SWEAR IT! NO MORE TROLLING!"
"YOU CAN'T TROLL WITHOUT YOUR HANDS, CAN YOU?"
I felt the cold sting of sharp serrated steel against my wrist.
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