Dronkville exists in 1962 Ukraine. It's like communist Russia, except with dronk. DRONK DRONK DRONK DRONK DRONK DRONK DRONK DRONK DRONK DRONK DRONK DORNK DORNK DORNK DORNK DORNK. Like that. I think repeating words over and over and over and over and over again is fucking harlariourous. Like funny. Really funny. Because if you say words over and over again they eventually become so funny because you don't know what day you are in the century of my brain. My brain doesn't exist in this century. Because it is dead. To a point of no return. I hope you read this because I might die of being dead. It might hurt. I hope it really doesn't; I'm afraid of living my life in fear. I hope that doesn't make any sense because I hate you.
-Conrad
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