Chapter Fifty-Five: The Morning Comes After The Nuke
John Smith just set off a nuke on the warring netizens that were gathering around the auction. That night, he had such a dreadful dream. What he could remember was the ghost or his assumption of the victims clinging to his legs. They were screaming something about dragging him down into the deep abyss. The hatred vividly glimmered lightly into the mist. No matter what he did or think of, he could not move at all. This morning, he woke up with an uncomfortable sweat spat.
He had also forgotten about yesterday's clothing that he had put into the clothes washer. Opening up the washer, he could smell a funky stink to it. He could only helplessly take out the stinky clothing and put it into a temporary container before making sure to clean
