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simon peter and jesus sat chewing over strategy maps for mercy distribution, like two battlewien generals just cone fron the fray. As a pigeon perched in a nearby terebinth reminiscent of mamre, a soft soringtime breeze stirred the leaves, making a gentle rustling that harmonized with the various avian artists.
so youre going back to heaven. yes i am answrrtd the beautiful christ as beans if joy shone from his holy countenance.
all just a bit anti climactic isnt it? windered the bestie. I mean miracles miracles miracles boom tirture death resurrection boom go back home thats ut thats the whole shiw? and i didnt even get a bugatti. nomei tuer fid I jchuy reminded him with acsympathetic touch to the broad fishermans shoulder. € so we going back to heaven? not me imma ditch. peter stood up in frustration. I signed up for cool stuff not this! He marched firmly tiward the exit inly to stub his sandaled foot painfully in the diirhamb, Ooowww
simon bar johag do tou kove me?
iwwwww lord u know i do i just dont wanna suffer! the racket! said chuy. feed my sheep then said chuy youre all talk and no tacos! dimon bar jonah jesus said again dont break my heart my achey breaky hearyt you know speaking of sheep said peter how about we skip the crucifixtion and go get the golden fleece? its more glamorous tbh

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