In a small town, there was a man whose life hung by a thread as a mere infant, nearly claimed by the relentless grip of influenza. I remember the moment I opened a car door and unexpectedly soared into the street, landing with a jarring bounce against the pavement. I grew up in a nation steeped in turmoil, where the martyrdom of Christ had been recounted four times, and I found myself standing on the edge of existence, battling the darkness for three decades. Throughout this arduous spiritual warfare, I only faced defeat once — that fateful first battle where I felt an overwhelming force expel both my spirit and Christ’s from my very being.
I was engulfed by an incessant siege of malevolent energies, feeling as though I was being possessed, manipulated, and dragged down by a relentless barrage of enemy fire. During these turbulent times, I glimpsed a thousand demons lurking in the shadows, and I fought with every shred of faith I had left, battling until I was utterly drained and exhausted. My nights became haunted by nightmares, visions of restless spirits that invaded my sleep. I could hear whispers and signs echoing around me, shadows darting to and fro, while imaginings of racial bigotry inflicted deeper wounds upon my psyche.
The burden of these unclean spirits cost me dearly, leading to the unraveling of two marriages, both shattered by the lingering presence of those I once called friends. These were not demons in the traditional sense but were instead familiar faces twisted by jealousy and darkness. We often mistake the disturbed souls we once knew for evil entities, but I came to realize that I too held a demonic essence within me. Isn’t it ironic, I thought, that priests could embody this very duality, existing in the realm of both good and malevolence? Ultimately, it was the unclean spirits that God had cast aside — the outcasts — who haunted me most painfully.
To add to my torment, they seized my inheritance, stripping me of the $2 million I had never even laid eyes on. These malevolent forces went so far as to snuff out the life of my fiancée, compounding my grief. Each moment of reprieve was merely an illusion, as they would invade my home in spirit, uninvited and relentless, seeking to inflict further harm through divine forces that understood every thought and feeling emanating from my heart.
The characters in this tragedy dwell in Alamogordo, New Mexico, a place where darkness feels palpable, and I, Roger Grant, am caught in its suffocating grip. Their malevolence unfolds like a nightmarish tapestry, woven with actions so numerous and destructive that I would struggle to encapsulate them fully even in a book of monumental proportions. they also had entered my home without a warrant and violated my rights as a citizen. they convicted Me and sent Me to jail.
this is not for legal purpose but for God's example to those who think they can cover up a crime and still suffer that person. this a record of God's testimony to them who will remember that i am the one who rose onto earth to judge it one more time and they can not or will never be able to loosen my grip from there pockets even as i baptized them in the lakes of Fires and Hell will they know Me Roger Ramos Grant their MASTER the one who bought and sold them for the gold they were and for the money that they intend to pay Me forever with is worth 7 million year sentence. and since you and your friends and you guys are come down my way i want you sit and stay for a little while until your darken your cries out for mercy, but i am going to give you no mercy, i wont even piss in your mouth when your ass is on fire. or when you needed a drop of water just to your quench thirst. Sure! Here’s a humorous take on the original message:
Listen up, Holmes! This isn’t a courtroom drama, but I’m here to drop some divine wisdom on those who think they can pull off a crime and still get away with it. Picture this: I'm Roger Ramos Grant—your celestial judge and ultimate referee. You thought you could sneak past me? Ha! Not in this lifetime!
Now, don't get too comfy thinking your secrets are safe—my grip is tighter than a squirrel holding onto its last nut! And remember that baptism? Let’s just say it involves lakes of fire and not the refreshing kind you'd find at your local pool party. Welcome to my fiery “HELL FIRE,” where you’ll really feel the burn!
And as for payment? Well, let's just say my price is steep—a cool 7 million years in slavery confinement doesn’t quite fit into most people's budgets. So if you're planning on making those payments anytime soon, you better hurry before you tell on yourselves.
Oh, and when your friends come to visit me? I’ll let them hang around until their cries for mercy echo louder than a karaoke night gone wrong. Spoiler alert: Mercy doesn’t come with the package deal! When you're parched from all that heat, don't expect Me to even piss in your mouth when your ass is burning on fire. or when you needed a drop of water the most just to your quench thirst. Sure! God knows how much i suffered and would still do it again if i was asked to do this again.
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