Hello OT, me again. Now I am not anyone. I don't have a magic book I summon fire with. I don't have a staff that makes me a sandwich that is cut at exactly a 45 degree angle. I am just an ordinary person. I wake up, I do chores, I eat my daily 14 kilograms of margarine, and all is well. However, one night, I parked my brand new Volkswagen Golf IV (I will refer to it as "the beast" as it is very fast), locked it, and went to bed. Next morning, as I am finishing my final tub of margarine, I see three punks pouring barbeque sauce on my windshield. Was this some sort of new prank? I'm not too sure. As I walk out of my house to ward them off with an inconspicous 50 caliber Desert Eagle, they scream at me: THIS IS WHAT WE CALL PAYBACK, YOU MOTHERFUCKER!. Odd. I thought I murdered every single child in that Albanian hospital. Guess I am wrong. So, I angrily walk back to get my very nice and shiny microfiber cloth that I bought off grandpa Carl, and get out my trusty Windex sprarying device. Spray. Spray. Spray. Wipe. Wipe. Wipe…. Darn. My very nice and shiny microfiber cloth that I stole off grandpa Carl is very dirty. As I go to wash it, I hear a very strange sound from the beast. I quickly dash back to see… oh no. Dave has appeared. For those unaware, to summon Dave is a very hard process. From what I've personally heard, you need: two tablespoons of salt, sixteen liters of lemon juice, a slightly used air filter from a 1996 Toyota Hilux, seventeen micrograms of a baked Xbox 360 motherboard (has to be a jasper model), Spiderman 2 on UMD video, a can of mushroom soup, a can of tomato soup, a steak that has to be half eaten, half chewed, and finally, 150 mililiters of Heineken beer. All of these ingridents must be placed on top of a Kenwood sound system, otherwise nothing will happen. Once everything is done as is, Dave will appear. From there on out, I have no idea what happens. Reports say Dave will simply give you a copy of your house keys, or he will eat your house keys. So naturally, I was worried. But Dave… Dave was different. See, I only cleaned my windshield, I didn't do any of that. Dave looked… Odd. He was a caucasian male, with a beard, scruffy hair that was beginning to go white, and had the typical british face. He wore a simple shirt, and was looking at me very confused. He gave me a smile, got out of my windshield. And he… he cracked the beast in half. My precious the beast. Fortunately for me, the resilient 1.9 T
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