I do not ♥♥♥♥ who you are or where you live. You can count on your presence here for your life to be closed for an infernal end. I will hurt you so much that he will tie Jesus on a cross in the desert like a massive massage on a tropical island. I can not fry how many repetitions I have or how hard the IRLs are, how to fight or how many whistleblowers to protect themselves. I would be grateful if you were not at home. I will turn on all the lights in the house, let the water run open, open the door of your refrigerator, do not close and turn on the gas and gas range. You start to tighten the sheet, the blood pressure will triple and you have a heart attack. You go to the hospital for heart surgery, and the last thing you will see when you are in medicine. When you wake up after you have operated, you wonder what time the bomb is in your trunk and wait to get out. You are completely withdrawn from cardiac surgery. And if you get out of the front door of the hospital to go home, I'll get you out of my ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥ car and I'll kill you. I just want you to know how much I can destroy your pathological excuse for a lifetime, but rather, I prefer a long way to make sure the last days are spent in a happy hell and breathtaking. It's too late to save you, but do not be bored of committing suicide ... I'll bite and kill myself as the female bassoon finds itself. Welcome to hell, people: you