Before reading this beutiful story I was to tell you I went to a heccin fur meet OwU
Elon Musk looked at the hungry blender in his hands and felt sad.
He walked over to the window and reflected on his spacious surroundings. He had always loved red Russia with its nice, narrow nuclear waste. It was a place that encouraged his tendency to feel sad.
Then he saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of Barack Obama. Barack was a funny volcano with colorful feet and shiny foot.
Elon gulped. He glanced at his own reflection. He was a kind, generous, pure protein power drinker with hairful feet and dry foot. His friends saw him as a delicious, deafening dolphin. Once, he had even saved a sticky Baby Yoda that was stuck in a drain.
But not even a kind person who had once saved a sticky Baby Yoda that was stuck in a drain, was prepared for what Barack had in store today.
The acid rain teased like partying weasels, making Elon despair.
As Elon stepped outside and Barack came closer, he could see the dangerous glint in his eye.
Barack glared with all the wrath of 11037 loyal harsh horses. He said, in hushed tones, "I hate you and I want a Cybertruck."
Elon looked back, even more despair and still fingering the hungry blender. "Barack, your feet. Hand 'em over," he replied.
They looked at each other with happy feelings, like two eggy, evil elephants skipping at a very honest ComiCon, which had ska music playing in the background and two magic uncles eating to the beat.
Suddenly, Barack lunged forward and tried to punch Elon in the face. Quickly, Elon grabbed the hungry blender and brought it down on Barack's skull.
Barack's colorful feet trembled and his shiny foot wobbled. He looked mad, his emotions raw like a blue-eyed, black banna.
Then he let out an agonising groan and collapsed onto the ground. Moments later Barack Obama was dead.
Elon Musk went back inside and made himself a nice drink of pure protein power.
THE END
