From the moment I understood i had 2 onions it disgusted me. I craved the strength and certainty of 3 onions. I aspired to the purity of the Blessed onions. Your kind cling to your flesh, as though it will not decay and fail you. One day the crude biomass you call a temple will wither, and you will beg my onion kind to save you. But I am already saved, for heck imagine 3 onions... Even in death I serve the ONIONS

SLIT YOUR WRISTS