One day, an old woman approached the drunken soldier.
"Oh, poor soul. I feel thy suffering."
"And you are?"
"To ease thy pain, that which you can't feign, takes but a flower for those whom you've slain."
"What!?"
He shouted at the old woman.
An old woman approached the drunken soldier.
"What nonsense! I am not bad. They are the inferior race. It is God's will for our kind, the civilized race, to destroy the barbarians."
In his anger the soldier shot the old woman.
The soldier shot the old woman.
P.11


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