Making the Destiny Virul

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Indeed, morning, as always, bid correctly its promise to come, as to assure our innocent sojourner in this misery-laden world that those dark hands of Takano and Ogata shall never, so long as her holy chastity does not compromise with the blasphemy of those occult fandoms and poppy boogie phantoms of society, reach for her dreams in night and tangle them with fright. No matter how bright the lantern of the boogie-poppy shinigami proclaimed against the night, such a light, though able to dispel manticores, proved trite in comparison with the light of Christ. Rina knew such fundamentals; and she knew that the uglies, the evils, the bads, the feeble and sometimes fraudulent goods, would never be honored a trial in her court of law, for such flaws did not inquire on the necessity of those divine scales until they stood against the hailing cruelty of her super solar-powered light-saber of justice!

She made sure no midori nights caught her right hand, as that righteous hand wielded supremely that baton of light; and also brushed her teeth and brushed her hair and made the cat-hat on her head fit fine and fair, as well as her underwear, and many more things did this hand handle in her life, for she was so right that Light may himself second-guess his second-guessing and wonder if her righteousness were criminal to this criminal world; whether because she was logic-less in a very full-logic world, or that she was logic-full in a very less-logic world or whether because she was adhering to the most perfect forces against this world of great imperfections. Light would have to retire in detention, closing that book housing the god of death, to make sense as to whether Rina were in the wrong or right.

But right she was, even in mistaken strife, as all her accessories of life were stored on the right side of her universe. For the iPod was upon her right waist, so with her right finger the music wheel could trace the warm desires to play the likes of J-rock, J-pop and even J-hip-pop; And, of course, the J-Christian gospels of Christ too.

And in the puffy pockets of those cloudy-white, lordly lady's bloomers was the rest of her life: the iPhone, whom without the devotion of Jehovah was thus feeble in the holy space of god's gigabytes to store the thousands of Japanese scores and tracks her iPod-- whom sent by god, succeeded to do. Her iPhone, dethroned of all spiritual affinity, owns the rest of her mortal applications of life-- which were few (she hardly knew of its use); As thus to make Rina the mid-middler of existence, to thus have connection with these quick-lived, myspacing, facebooking, youtubing, gmailing gnomes left on this earthen, mortal coil through her iPhone on the one side, while, on the right side of Rina's life, the reaching of that high kite to god, whose creation-- without the need of mods for greater enjoyment, acts like a spiritual rod that gathers forth that thunder of god and transforms such godly divinity into melodious serenity, "my iPod!" Says Rina, "connects me to my lord and god, who is not the young and mortal Akira, but the ever youthful creator of the universe-- and, of course, creator of the iPod!"

So long as she wielded her iPod, she attained affinity to all the holy powers of god, so that neither fallen-angels nor rising-devils, neither atheist nor rapist, neither demons nor lemons may spray the citrus of their sins without the holy, veiling aids of Christ to make thus their just lemonade.

And so did she evermore store the powers of that baton of light in that hand of right always ready to fight against that unjust night with the thunderous force of that sky-scratching, god-given kite.

And thus was she right-minded and quite lacking in the left, and thus was she better at the treble instead of the bass cleft.

With all those morning activities and earthen duties done in preparation for tackling the woe-forsaken world, Rina was ripe and right for tackling those institutions of hell. When she strapped her limited edition pearl-white Neko-koneko goggle-strapped fluffy cat-hat(estimated to be $24.99), she could feel the pangs and scorns of that shining thorn of crowns worn by that man long ago brought under submission by Mr.T in ancient Rome; this reminder multiplied her power and invigorated her to tackle any woes of the day today, and school was one big Edgar Allan Poe short story.

She spun around twice and stabbed a thumbs-up into her mirror, "Super scholastic magic-girl Rina, at your service!"

The standing mirror next to the dresser seemed to agree with the apparel.

The vanilla-white hello-kitty backpack was swiped off from the closet doorknob and out the room she trodden, leaving the security of her abode in the hands of naruto and the snorlaxing pikachu.

"I'm going mom," Said she, sweeping pass the matriarch's room and through the hallway. All that was heard from the cracked door was a borish zombie-groan.

"Now to go see Etna and interpret what Prophecy cat means by this dream," said she, sweeping down the apartment building stairs; the decoration of cracks and torn wall paper quite normal and trained to Rina's keen eye, as well were the occasional cockroach that may have awoken early to make exodus across the fissures of torn wallpaper, or may have fallen upon a step with their legs up kicking the air to search and walk on the ground again.

Before Rina knew, she had already crunched the life out of an organism while going down the stairs, "No..." said she with distraught epiphany, and she leaped five stairs down to a stairless landing to scan the stairs that she had stepped, and a murder scene she indeed saw, and she committed it with her own two feet, "O my god, what have I done. A well structured organism, perhaps taken years to be blueprinted by god, snuffed out of this biological realm by the carelessness of these unbaptized shoes, O the blood won't wash away," she reiterated, "the blood won't wash away!"

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