an oven-ready chicken
To strew the laureate hearse where Lycid lies.
“Unless what's happening here is that we're getting ratfucked ourselves.”
Energy has seldom been found where we need it when we want it. Ancient nomads, wishing to ward off the evening chill and enjoy a meal around a campfire, had to collect wood and then spend time and effort coaxing the heat of friction out from between sticks to kindle a flame.
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