Once when I was young, I hooked a codfish from my uncle’s estuary in the Hague. I thought no one would ever find out, save for my sister, who scaled and prepared the delicious meal that evening. Eventually my uncle began suspecting the act, and poisoned the entire estuary with rice gum. I fell horribly ill the next time I caught another codfish for two fortnights, and my sister died a horrible painful death.
Is this about me? This is about me isn’t it.
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