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 bread, as though it will not decay and fail you. One day the crude biomass you call the bread 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