Your skin with crackle and blister and the fat will render from your belly. Thousands of demons will dance around you, rejoicing at your pathetic whimpers. You will dine with the Princes of Hell, and you will eat nothing but human waste and the intestinal discharges of the Sinners that have come before you. Your bed will be made of needles and your blanket of sandpaper, and there will always be a car alarm going off outside your window. Your morning shower will be ice cold, and filled with Niggers, and the soap will be ungrippable, and you will always drop it. Your job will be unfullfilling, and every time you think your up for a raise, you will be reprimanded by a low-level manager. Your wife will be morbidly obese. And you shall read nothing but shit-posts.