When I was born, I was ten inches flaccid. I would always be made fun of for my massive wankus. Over time, I realized that getting women was not something to be ashamed of. I went to a private school where I built a better understanding of my natural talent. I went on to start a career as a professional in swimming in the women, it was then I mentored those to harness their abilities; it was then that I found that I was the messiah of our glorious lord Magnar. It came to me in a dream. It was a Saturday if I remember correctly. I was deep in thought while also deep in 10 female's genitals at once. The Russian Prime Minister knocked on my door and we fought with limp daggers while I was still deep in thought and women. We fought to the death and we both survived. We drank orange juice together. It was a Saturday. Suddenly a light shone upon me, a figurative light of course, because I was too deep in the women for light to reach me. It was the voice of GOD . The voice was deep. I was deep. It was a Saturday. The voice was the voice of Magnar, a righteous voice, a voice that could penetrate deeper than 10 inches flaccid. What he said on that day, was engraved in my mind. I envy his wisdom. It was a Saturday. What he said was perhaps wiser than any phrase anyone could possibly say within a lifetime, let alone understand. What he said hit me like a handful of divine female genitals. It was if I could see new colors even though light could not reach me, because I was too deep in the women for light to reach me. All I could see is darkness and genitals. I was enlightened. It was a Saturday. I reflected on what the great Magnar had said; I reflected on my life. I pondered on. It felt as if suddenly there was a hole in my life; 10 holes in fact, and all at once. I ate steak later that day, medium well with a side of salad, wine, and chocolate milk. That following week, I was promoted to mayor of teninchesflaccid city. On that day I realized that I ran for mayor. The next day, the President was stolen. He was taken hostage by the bad guys. I knew exactly who was up to the challenge of saving him. Not me. When I got older, I continued my career. My favorite game was Jenga, I would play it with women instead of wood blocks and me on the bottom. I died happily in my sleep, dreaming about my massive pectoral muscles and ninjas made out of gummy worms. I was buried. I was always buried, under women. My father was named after me. He carried our legacy onwards; he invented Metallica, trees, Pizza, America, and the color purple.