-rep cheater

-rep cheater

⢠⣶⣾⣷⣦⡀⠀⣤⣤⣤⣤⣄⠀⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤ ⣾⣿⠁⢸⣿⣧⠀⣿⣿⠉⠹⣿⣆⠉⠉⠉⠉⣿ ⣿⣿⠀⠘⠛⠛⠀⣿⣿⠀⠀⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿ ⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣤⣾⡿⠃⠀⠀⣼⣿⡟ ⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⢻⣿⣇⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⠁ ⣿⣿⠀⢸⣿⣷⠀⣿⣿⠀⣿⣿⡄⠀⠀⣿⣿ ⢻⣿⣦⣼⣿⠏⠀⣿⣿⠀⢸⣿⣧⠀⢀⣿⣿ ⠈⠛⠛⠛⠋⠀⠀⠛⠛⠀⠀⠛⠛⠀⠸⠛⠛ ⠀⠀

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⣿⣦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⣿⣿⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣿⣿⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⣿⢿⣷⠒⠲⣾⣾⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⣿⠟⠁⠀⢿⣿⠁⣿⣿⣿⠻⣿⣄ ⠀⠀⣠⡾⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣸⣿⣿⣿⣆⠙⢿ ⣰⡿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣆⠂ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⣿⠿⠟⠀⠀⠻⣿⣿⡇ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⡿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⢿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⣿⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⠟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠻

I used to roll half a bottle of laxative pills into a Crunch wrap supreme and then leave cow pies on peoples door mats. People in my town installed porch cameras to catch the "Phantom S hitter" they said it couldn't possibly be one man, the hits were too frequent and too large. It had to be a whole gang of city punks coordinating and making planned precision strikes. I felt like a god among lesser beings in my town. Every time i was at the local diner and i overheard someone screaming about the black slop they found on their porch i felt powerful and unstoppable. I became too arrogant, started striking during the day. That's when they caught me and strung me up in the streets and hit me with rocks. I barely escaped with my life and i had to leave town. Now after all these years, I'm in a new town and I behave well enough. But I've got this nagging feeling, the urge is back, and I'm starting to think that my new town is about to experience a storm

⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠏⠌⣾⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠸⠿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃⠀⣠⣾⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⡿⠃⠀⢰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⠃⠀⠀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⠀⠈⠻⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⠟⠉⠉⠉⢃⣤⠀⠈⢿⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⣿⣧⠀⠀⠙⣿⣿
⣿⣿⡆⠀⠀⠈⠻⡅⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⣿⠿⠇⠀⠀⢸⣿
⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠔⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⣠⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣿⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣾⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣿
⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⣿
⣿⣿⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⣿
⣿⣿⠟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿
⣿⡟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿