Ben Sharpiro looked at the giant guillotine in his hands and felt active.

He walked over to the window and reflected on his magical surroundings. He had always loved wild the Internet with its wonky, warty websites. It was a place that encouraged his tendency to feel active.

Then he saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of a libtard. a was a malicious libtard with blonde fingernails and tall spots.

Ben gulped. He glanced at his own reflection. He was a god with brunette fingernails and solid spots. His friends saw him as a God of facts and truth. Once, he had even helped an old lady cross the road.

But not even a cold-blooded person who had once helped an old lady cross the road, was prepared for what a had in store today.

The wind teased him, making Ben worried.

As Ben stepped outside and a came closer, he could see the smoked glint in a libtard’s eye.

“I am here because I want facts and logic,” the libtard bellowed, in an incredible tone. She slammed her fist against Ben’s chest, with the force of 8223 guppies. “I frigging hate you, Ben Sharpiro.”

Ben looked back, still fingering the giant guillotine. “Libtard, this isn’t epic,” he replied.

They looked at each other with angry feelings, like two open, old-fashioned ostriches rampaging at a very greedy rave, which had political music playing in the background and two sinister uncles hopping to the beat.

Suddenly, the libtard lunged forward and tried to punch Ben in the face. Quickly, Ben grabbed the giant guillotine and brought it down on the libtard’s skull.

The libtard’s blonde fingernails trembled and her tall spots wobbled. She looked anxious, her body raw like a striped, spewmungous sandwich.

Then she let out an agonising groan and collapsed onto the ground. Moments later a libtard was dead.

Ben Sharpiro went back inside and made himself a nice drink of facts and logic.

THE END