as he pondered these questions in his signature rational manner, he began to conclude that there was still no other option for him, because things were just too grim. this provoked an anger in noigel that rapidly spiralled into a rage at god. "why would you make me english and then punish the english people like this?!" he shouted aloud as he rose to his feet, knoife held high. "if you only created me to kill myself, then you're about to get what you wanted!". noigel exited the tent in the now torrential rain, and with his knoife in his mouth, he climbed to the top of his favorite rock formation where so many of his life's milestones had been laid. he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, and placed the blade to his wrist in the freezing darkness. noigel opened his eyes with a calm sensation of finality, and an unexpected presence disrupted him. piercing through the grim english darkness was a lone, golden light. it filled the bleak landscape with a glorious and triumphant message of hope. this was not only a response from god. it was the golden arches. on this very evening, a new mcdonald's had opened on the outskirts of the moor for the first time. noigel's trembling hand dropped the knoife as he fell to his knees breathless. he knew this was a direct communication from god and that he must listen. so he climbed down the rock, folded his tent, and abandoned his final meal to the seagulls. he set out down the hill through the cold rain to the maccies which god had created for him.
United States