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I'm a 27 year old American Bruddah (African enthusiast). I draw poverty and disease on my tablet, and spend my days not eating and experiencing health defects (diarrhea, starvation, AIDS).
I train with my sharpened twig every day, this superior weapon can shoot straight through a wet tissue because it kicks ass, and is vastly superior to any other weapon on earth. I earned my twig license two years ago, and I have been getting better every day.
I speak Swahili fluently, both the Hibbity and the Bibbity accents, and I write fluently as well. I know everything about African history and their complete disregard for civilized life, which I follow 100%
I own several loin cloths, which I wear around town. I want to get used to wearing them before I move to Africa, so I can fit in easier. I have unprotected intercourse with my elders and seniors and speak Swahili as often as I can, but rarely does anyone manage to respond.
Wish me luck in Africa!
Four barbarians break in to my house.
“Quid Diabolus?!”
I grab my gladius and pilum.
With a mighty throw, I skewer the first man, he’s dead on the spot.
Chuck my pugio at the second and miss because it’s not built to be thrown and nails neighbor Gaius’ goat.
I have to resort to the onager mounted on top of the stairs. ”Roma in aeternum!”
The loud smack of the throwing arm disturbs the slumber of Gaius’ mother, who’s incessant nagging reverts the third barbarian to a child-like state.
Draw my gladius and charge the last terrified savage.
He bleeds out waiting for his crucifixion because the broad blade leaves terrible lacerations to his internal organs.
Just as Jupiter intended.
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