You, I would take great pleasure from filling these beakers to the brim with baby scorpions and inserting them into your putrid womb. Post insertion a violent assault upon your pubic mound with an iceaxe should be sufficient to convey that yes, it's time to stop procreating. The stunned look upon your face as the shards of glass slice the walls of your uterus, the screams of agony as the scorpions pierce the walls of your fallopian tubes are ever so sweet to me. May the scorpions take up residence within your womb and feed upon the fetuses you produce. The day a semi scorpion-fetus bursts from your chest and plunges its razor pincers into your eyes is a glorious day for all mankind. Your genes offer nothing to the pool. Die in a fucking fire.
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