Gather round children, and take your dicks out, this is my story. One day I sat in the streets poor and alone, without a penny with which to buy OJ juice. As I sat there and wept, there passed by me Dementia, with a cocky grin, his beautiful 11 year old skin, a new Skullgirls Tshirt, and a big-ass fightstick. I looked up at his face and knew that God had sent me a savior. Dementia looked down upon me in pity, and saw that I could not URN Reel Moni. As Dementia digged, his eyes caught my only possession in the world, my dead grandma's collection of SkullGirls cards. Suddenly his once childlike face flared with rage, and his eyes burned with fire of 1,000 dongers. He screamed, "con fucking gratys, you have Mike Z Windmill Arms cards" as he pulled back his foot to kick me. Luckily, the recess bell rang at that moment, and Dementia's 3rd grade teacher made him go back inside, where he spent the rest of the day writing "I am Autism" in crayon. Pls no copy pasterino cappucino