There
was once a goblin who messed with me. The goblin poked and bit my stomach. It
pored hot sauce and lemon juice in my eyes. It punched my head. It heated me
up. I told my mother about the goblin. I had to deal with the goblin for a
little while longer. I thought she would get a bat, but she got a pill. She
stuffed the pill down the goblin's throat. The goblin then died. The symbolism
for the goblin was being sick.
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