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Existence is like a big house. In the kitche n is your soul, who's like, uhh, sharing your pair with an uncle... On the roof is your inner child, smoking cinnamon wraps... ok, that was random... and finally in the living room is your liver, hence the name... So, in conclusion your existence is like this quote: It rambles on inanely for a while before finishing it's course, instantly forgotten by all. Yeah, that sounds good, pretty suave, I think I'll go buy myself that donkey now, a little treat. You know, from me to me; but would that make it a gift. Hmmm, hey! My poptarts are ready, yaaaay!

~ Gazza trying his hand at philosophy (badly)

...

No, actually, I don't think so.

Existence is the equivalent of Grave Dancing; therefore, Existence cannot exist...

Oh, you mean that weird dude that sits in the train station? Oh, cool.

I gave him 10p once.

His name's really "Existence"?

Wow. He had cool parents.

I'm going to go give him more money.


See also Edit

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