Come To My Cornfield

ITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSIRBURNSITBURNSITBURNSWHEREISISAACITBURNSITBURNSMALACHAIJRJRJRITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNSITBURNS

HE IS ESCAPING

I am growing bored. The outlander is just quivering and the children are not doing their jobs. But this will be worth the effort. The results of this long-con will be worth it—a sacrifice like this comes along most rarely. Marination within the glow of a deity’s power does wonders for the flavor indeed.

He has been tied up, and the crown of corns affixed to his head, but they have yet to start the crucifixion. They’re just doing six-seven motions at each other. Why is my flock so fucking stupid?

They lost him. Of course they did.

They’ve seized the outlander. Took them long enough.

Stupid corn children are more focused on babbling amongst themselves about something called Italian Brainrot than spilling the outlander’s blood. These disappointments’ forechildren were leagues more efficient than these sorry excuses for followers. Even Malachai Jr. Jr. Jr.! His great-grandfather was one of my most devout servants. Lazy zoomers.

Isaac is mobilizing the flock. Hopefully they will get off of their damn cellphones long enough to fulfill their duty. I regret allowing them to have phones. I thought it was a decent enough reward for the sacrifice of the Verizon trucker and those that came after, but I realize now that that may have been a misstep. Now they spend their time watching TikToks instead of multiplying and offering sacrifices with the efficiency they used to! I may have to lower the maximum age… we will see.

FINALLY

Can the outlander drive any fucking slower he isn’t even going the speed limit

Oh my fucking god can he get here faster

The subject—the outlander—is getting closer. He is still far, but not for long.

If you eat corn flakes you probably want to kill babies.

The children of Gatlin will not be fed any woke nonsense.