ex-machina
In a world in the distant future, neon of confusing lights, Kenny McCormick's memory is made of shrapnel. Through the sand dunes of the desert, past the colossal buildings of the illuminated city, Kenny got on his bike and accelerated, accelerated until he forgot his own name. The one thing he can never forget is Kyle Broflovski's face.
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I promise to commit no acts of violence Be it physical or otherwise If things come alive
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