Definition of madness: Worshipping in a destroyed church and religion. Stuck in a religious routine even thiugh it makes no sense. And thinking you can help people. And if evolution is correct, you truly are insane, Nikolai.

Picture this: Henry’s got a neat party trick – involuntary teleportation! She’s either living her best quantum physics life or having the world’s most inconvenient sleep disorder. Einstein said E=mc², but forgot to mention the part about dreams being reality’s practical jokes.

So apparently, Henry’s been playing international courier with dismembered limbs. Someone actually documented this impromptu arm delivery to Sri Lanka. Way to give “lending a hand” a whole new meaning! The local koalas (who, fun fact, don’t even live there) weren’t interested in this strange human offering.

Henry’s having daddy issues with a side of mud. She’s either mastering dream-to-reality manifestation or really needs to invest in better sleepwear. Nothing says “I miss my dad” quite like waking up looking like you’ve been mud wrestling with your subconscious.

Road trips: where the music format changes but the desperate need for snacks remains eternal. Because nothing says “evolution of human civilization” quite like switching from scratched CDs to YouTube ads while inhaling gas station chips.

Meet Cleo, Henry’s mom, who’s taking “keeping your options open” to legally questionable levels. She’s living that parallel life – one marriage, one affair, zero moral compass. Talk about efficient time management!

Poor Henry’s stuck watching her mom’s stellar example of handling abandonment issues – by collecting new relationships like they’re limited edition Pokémon cards. Nothing fixes a broken marriage quite like starting another potentially broken relationship, right?

And for our grand finale: Nikolai, bless his heart, performing religious rituals in a demolished church. It’s like trying to order from a McDonald’s that burned down three years ago – the drive-thru might be gone, but damned if he won’t try to get his spiritual Happy Meal. Because nothing says “rock bottom” quite like praying to rubble while pretending everything’s fine. Spoiler alert: it’s not.

 

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