A girl I liked convinced me to stab a man, so I did. Felt guilty for a bit, then promptly forgot about it and walked around with the murder weapon for a couple of hours, going about my business, walking my dog. Eventually I was cornered by a plainclothes police officer who asked me why I had a bloody knife; I told him I was looking after it for my bogan cousin. He said, “You’re under arrest,” and I was like,, “No, I’m not, watch this,” and then I woke up.
It’s been three years since DashCon and Fyre Fest has happened. Meaning that in accordance to the Rule of Three, in another three years, a third and final gathering catastrophe will occur with its own symbol joining the ball pit and concierge stand to create an ungodly trifecta.
