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I used to greatly enjoy Breathing, I was almost addicted you could say, but that all changed some spooky day....
 
It was the 31st of septemberSeptember 2014, and i was just casually breathing, sitting on the couch, and drinking an ice cold Fanta, when i took a massive swig of my fanta. But, in an ironic twist, The fanta took away my ability to speak banter. So i went on a quest to find my banter.
 
My first destination was London, as I know from personal experience that banter is common there. I also had to stop off at the fanta factory to make a formal letter of complaint about the loss of my banter to their soft drink. They told me in a formal letter of reply to "Fuck the shit off" and i took the advice onboard, and started up my old Fiat Chiqochenko Hawaii to go on quest to track my banter down.
 
I arrived at London 150 hours later, as my Shitty little fiat got stuck crossing the Atlantic ocean. By this time it was almost night, and i had limited time to find my banter. First I stopped off at a shop named PoSHop (it's like posh and shop combined into a word, how extemelyextremely debonair!*sips tea and ajustsadjusts monocle*), the shop looked extremely posh, and there was a man that looked about 250 outside, explaining why the shop was called that, sipping tea and adjusting his monocle. I asked him about my loss of banter to an orange-flavouredflavored soft drink and he exhaled loudly. That exhale reminded me I hadn't breathed in a while. I breathed in and felt relief, relaxation and oxygen flow all around my body, warming me to my bone. At this the 250 year old british stereotype grabbed me by the collar, and got right up in my face.
 
"Your addicted to breathing,aren't you?"
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Suddenly, police come and arrest the man, my one shot at finding my banter once again was lost. All residing in oblivion with all my hopes and dreams, like getting a decent car and being able to get off breathing. I walk into the shop, and find an old woman that looks extremely similar to the queen, or any old woman at that, and ask her "Excuse me, I have a problem in that I lost my banter to fanta, can you help me?"
 
The woman stares at me, a look of terror on her wrinkley face. "Come here" she says, and opens a curtain to the back of the shop. I follow her, making sure my illegally liscensed revolver isn't on safety. She shows me the truth, that my banter was not lost because of FanterFanta, but my own breath. See, the fanta made me not breath for a long period of time, thus Resulting in my lack of air, thus resulting in my loss of banter. She told me to get off of breathing, and that my dreams must be collected from Oblivion.
 
I suddenly know what she means.
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I am about 2/3s of the way through the empty queue, when I hear thunder.This could mean one of two things. One, I just farted, two, Its the weather,(after all, it IS Alton Towers, the rainiest place in britain, maybe even the world) Or 3, The ancient spirits of fanta have came for me, and the old woman was right. I equip myself with an overpriced soft drink from a vending machine to ward them away, but I know this would not last long. I noticed hyper realistic blood on my arms, the spirits are angry. I am at the front of the queue. I slam my arse down on the front row, the lift hill initiates, as oblivion slowly gets pulled to the top of the lift. I breath. My bottle of soft drink is at the side of the station, so the fanta spirits can find me please oblivion, go.
 
The ride makes it to the bottom of its however the fuck foot drop, and I do not notice anything different. I still have no banter. I ask the on ride attendentattendant why my banter was not down their, and she told me "I don't fucking know, just fuck off!". I thank her and return to my car. I let out a sad sigh. My banter is lost. Oblivion. What did she mean?
 
I remember. The tom cruise film! I rush, sprinting to my car, Starting the 5mph peice of yellow shit. I rush down the narrowest road in the world. Oh no. I left my soft drink. The fanta spirits will find me, and more than likely bumrape me with a fanta bottle then spray it into me. I have to move. I stick my shit fiat from 1 to fith gear in one fell swoop, the car makes a loud BRUM BRUM, before rocketing to 100mph strait down the highway like a bullet from a .45. True speed. However much horsepower of no fucking performance peircing the night. There, is a sunset (lets see who gets that reference) .
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"I will see you old woman"
 
I hang up, and drive back to the game shop, cash in hand, Oblivion in my sights. I ask at the counter if they had any in stock, but the answer chilled me to the bone. "Every copy of Oblivion in the world is currently being burned in a big incineraterincinerator."
 
I freak out, I must get my banter back. I must. I get in my car and drive to my freaky girlfriend's house, and knock on the door.he answers the door, asking me "Why weren't you answering my texts" and shit like that. I barge past and run into her bedroom. Aside from photos of me plastered all over the walls and a wet petbed and vibrator, the room is empty.
 
"Where the fuck is your copy of oblivion?" I shout at her.
 
" In the living room!" She replysreplies. I run out her room to the stairs. Shit. An ancient fanta spirits blocks the stairs. There is nothing i can do. My quest is over. Then, A skeleton pops out and smashes the evil spirit into pieces. I slide down the carpet coated stairs, breaking my arsebone and several vertebrae while I do it. I grab her copy of oblivion. At the bottom of the box, my banter, and all my hopes and dreams. I eat them, and the ancient spirits of fanta leave. I finally have my banter back. I leave the house, and find my shitty fiat is now a Bugatti Veyron SS, and I drive off into the night. My banter, my arse (relatively) intact, and my dreams, still alive.
 
I never breathed again.
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