My goal in life is to make everyone I meet retarded. At least, right now it is. In other words, my goal right now is to make you retarded. If you are not retarded after reading this, I love you.

BUT THERE IS BAD NEWS. I'M NOT DRUNK, THEREFORE I CANNOT LOVE YOU. AT LEAST, I CANNOT SAY I LOVE YOU. IN OTHER WORDS, RIGHT NOW I DON'T LOVE YOU. IF YOU ARE NOT DRUNK AFTER ME LOVING WHAT I SAID IN THIS SPACE, I AM BOX.

With all that said, my name is Retarded, and I have decided to drop the format that just poisoned my mind. Perhaps it's you talking, because as everyone knows, I am sometimes you. IN FACT, I AM ALWAYS YOU. At least, it's happening again, and I'm officially terrified of myself.

But there is another heir to my throne, and he is AT THIS VERY MOMENT searching for the first heir that I did not mention. Why? BECAUSE HE IS ME. I AM THE HEIR TO MY OWN THRONE SEARCHING FOR MYSELF TO TAKE MY THRONE.

Once upon a time, it's too late for that.

And they lived happily ever after, even though the point has not yet been made. Without further delay, I present the rest of my rant that I must complete or sex will happen.

YES. I AM INDEED BOX. DID YOU KNOW THAT BOXES ARE HAMSTER GUNS USED BY THE ZODIAC KILLER? Of course you didn't, because you are not box. You see, boxes are like me. I AM YOU. But you are still not box.

NO, I AM BOX. How many? EVERYONE. Once the world learns how to dicks, we will all know what it truly means to have had have-hats. Have-hats. Oh, how I love those have-hats that I never had-hatted. YOU CAN'T HAVE MY HAVE-HATS FOR YOU HAVE NEVER HAD-HATTED ME.

Correct. You are not box. If I type any longer, I wi–

THE NEVER-ENDING END TO END ALL ENDINGS UNLESS THIS IS NOT THE END.

P.S. THIS IS NOT THE END.