punch a baby in the face. shit, that is easy. i'll even eat that fucking sandwich so long as i get to punch a baby in the face. my knuckles are already feeling it, and they like it.

Would you rather live naked in a cave somewhere in the mountains of Greece making hand written copy after copy of the Christian bible while living on bread and water, thinking about women and wine and all of the beautiful parts of life that you are missing out on, but you persevere because of your steadfast mission, your meaningful dedication to the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, and the promise of an afterlife you know in your heart will be worth the life you have lost, and it will be worth the sores that now cover your body because of the constant exposure and poor hygiene, and worth the loss of your teeth one by one in bloody and painful succession, because the lack of vitamins in your diet are taking a toll on your health, so now your own fresh and malnourished blood dribbles onto the pages of your carefully constructed bibles, marring the work ever so slightly that one thing, the one small thing that seems so huge in your life because it is all that ties you to the physical world, can never be perfect in the eyes of God or man, bringing doubts in your heart that grow like an internal blackness, larger and larger until on your dying day thirty years hence, you will feel completely hopeless, alone, and like a person who has wasted their life, and your faith will slowly slip until at that last moment, at that very last moment, when the final coherent thought slips into your fading conscious, it will be that black doubt that you leave the world with...

or...

Would you rather live the life you are living now?