"infomercial" by floridomi
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"infomercial" by floridomi

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How could you be so blind? Everything in your life has collapsed around you. Your wife left you. You were fired from your job. Your kids won't speak to you. You should have seen it all coming. How could you be so blind? Your bills have piled up past due. Your dog escaped under the fence. Your home is in disrepair. You should have seen it all coming. How could you be so blind? LensCrafters: Love what you see. See what you love.
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BURN THE FILTH FROM THIS CITY.
JUSTICE IS YOUR GOD AND YOUR GOD DEMANDS TRIBUTE.
BE HIS SWORD.
BE HIS HAMMER.
BE HIS FIRE.
BURN THE FILTH. BURN THE CORRUPTION AWAY.
THEIR LIES AND GREED WILL BE THE KINDLING THAT WARMS YOUR HEARTH IN THE COLDEST WINTER WINDS. THEIR CRIES WILL BE YOUR CAROLS.
SALT THEIR CROPS WITH THEIR OWN TEARS.
YOUR GOD DEMANDS TRIBUTE.
HEAR YOUR LORD’S VOICE.
YOUR LORD COMMANDS YOU.
LIVE MAS.
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The waves have calmed and the skies have cleared. But you are now alone. A large section of the boat remains afloat, though any comforts have sunk to the shadowy depths along with your friends. The last to go was Hershel. Sweet, gentle Hershel. When the storm beset you and your companions, it was Hershel who took your hand and pulled you up from the grip of the ocean. It was Hershel who insisted you get on the makeshift raft first. It was Hershel who first noticed the shark. Poor, brave Hershel. The skies have cleared and the sun now hangs high. It illuminates everything around you, but reveals no hope. No lands. No survivors. No saviors. There is nothing but water. Water everywhere. It finally dawns on you - not a drop to drink. You are so thirsty, it's maddening. You would have to be mad to have eaten what the shark left behind. Sweet, tender Hershel. That's when you see it. Fifteen feet away, though it may as well be fifteen miles away, an orange object, bobbing in the water. You dare not swim to it. All is not lost, however. You grasp what remains of Hershel's arm, and use his hand to paddle. It's a slow journey, but progress is not made instantly. Now you're almost there. It's close enough to grab. All you have to do is reach out. Trembling fingers grasp cool aluminum. You pull the can out of the water. You pop the top. Though thirsty you are, you gently press the can hole to your lips and tilt your head back slowly. Robust orange flavor splashes over your tongue. It's cool, delicious and refreshing. Wanna Fanta? Don't you wanna?
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The drums beat a path for you. Bum. Bum. Badum. Bum. Bum. Badum. The boots of the guards behind you tromp in time with the drums, while your feet shuffle in a staccato rhythm all their own. You move along the corridor of angry faces. The townspeople sneer and jeer, and hurl insults as readily as rotten vegetables. An old cabbage finds its mark on the side of your head, exploding in leafy green humiliation. You stagger backwards for only a second, but the guard shoves you forward anyway. The push carries you all the way to the steps of the gallows. Each stair may as well be a hundred, and your legs tremble on every step. When you reach the top, rough hands guide you to your noose. You look through it and upon the gathered crowd, a hateful lens, magnifying their scorn. A man on the stage has been reading your many charges, but your attentions are squarely on the crowd. Finally, he calls to you, snapping you back into your own shoes. "Does the accused have any last words?" You look him in the eyes and whisper. "Just Do It."

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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The forest creaks and growls around you, unseen horrors warning you of their malicious hearts and voracious hunger. How long have you been running through this forest? It feels like the sun went down so long ago, and yet, it feels as though it may never rise again.
Keep running.
They are behind you.
Somewhere in the dark, they are behind you.
The full moon lights your way through sporadic breaks in the treetops. Your lungs are on fire. Your heart threatens to break through the bars of its boney prison. You legs are numb, yet promise pain still to come. You would welcome the pain, you think, if you make it out of this.
Somewhere behind you, they are coming.
You almost smile in triumph, thinking you can escape. You take a second to look behind you, and you see a flash of blue in the breaks of moonlight.
They are still there.
And that second has now cost you. Gnarled roots grab at your feet. You twist. You fall.
Get up!
You shove the ground away from you and take your first stride when the pain shoots up your leg. You cry out as you topple over. Your ankle is almost certainly broken.
They appear in the shreds of moonlight, much more closely now.
This is it.
The two identical old women in identical floral blue dresses slowly draw upon you. What unnatural force has given them the endurance to keep up with you? What intentions lit their path with such bedeviled accuracy?
You try to crawl away, but it is impossible to escape them. The forest has enclosed upon you like a tomb. There will be no escape this time.
They are so close now. On any other day, in any other place, you might not even have noticed them. But tonight, their menace visits you unchecked.
They stop. In unison, they reach into their purses and each produces a small, white control device. In unison, they speak.
“Wii would like to play.”
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A hooded figure is standing in your bedroom.
A hooded figure is standing next to your bed.
You do not know if the hooded figure has come bearing malicious intent. All you know is there is a hooded figure... Standing in your room. Next to your bed.
Your mouth opens to scream, but nothing comes out but a rattling, raspy hiss. It is as if a vice is squeezing your throat. You try to spring up and away, but you’re paralyzed. The hooded figure stands next to you, motionless. Could it be that you cannot move because this hooded figure has exerted some terrible will over your body, preventing you from calling out, from running? You do not know. You do not know anything right now, other than there is a hooded figure standing in your room, and you do not know what they want. The hooded figure remains motionless for what feels like an eternity. You seem to be able to move your eyes, but you do not believe what you are seeing. The hooded figure, standing in the light coming in from your window, casts no shadow. The hooded figure, standing before you as sure as your life, has no reflection in the mirror behind them. The only certainty is there is a hooded figure standing in your bedroom. The hooded figure moves, finally, leaning over you, their face in front of your face. You can only make out one feature under the hood - glowing red eyes, burning with the fire and fury of a million suns. You can smell their breath, and it smells like blood. You can hear the hooded figure breathing, ragged and shallow. Your heart is racing, and finally the hooded figure speaks. “MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN.”