The problem with you, is uh... It's words. Words lack the parameters to accurately describe how I feel about you. But maybe this will help. Every night, I have a recurring dream. It's you, sleeping in your bed. And it's me, with a pair of garden shears. And I tear that stupid ass nose right off your face, and I put it on top of my fireplace. And when your dumbass daddy comes over, trying to get it back, 43 trucks fall out of the sky, and land EXACTLY where he's standing, killing him instantly. One day, it'll happen..

I formally regret spending my elderly fathers money on this game and in exchange the PTSD it has dammed me with, may gods judgement send you to an enteral hell and for me for being 11 years old