{"ops":[{"insert":"Let me tell a little story about a man long time ago\nHe was the quickest draw in the wild west by the name of Smokin' Joe. But he didn't own no six-gun. Lemme tell you what he'd do. When the varmint rode into town, he'd shoot 'em down with a big fat \"fuck you!\" \n\nLeroy \"Two Gun\" Jenkins thought that he could surely win. But before Leroy could blink he was told to sit and spin.\n\nThe Mongoose Mountain Gang played dirty with a twenty-man crew. But tales are told that Joe grew eighteen arms that day as a gift from Vishnu. And as he rose in fame, every quickdraw outlaw came to the man they heard whose fists would burn when he flipped the bird.\n\nSome say many years ago before Joseph Rudeboy was Smokin' Joe, he had a wife, her name was Bo. Bo was with child in a happy home. But into town an outlaw came, who wore a velvet cloak like a bloodstain. Now Bo didn't like Joe using no gun, so Bo told Joe to fucking run.\n\nOne day an outlaw came to town: “Come out here Smokin' Joe. You're just as well already dead!” He wore a velvet cloak but Joe saw red. And on the street the fateful pair did meet. All the townsfolk came to watch when they knew Joe was gonna tell someone to f-\nTheir eyes were locked what seemed like three eternities. To Joe the velvet man seemed different from how he remembered him to be, but it was all the same to Smokin' Joe, who'd been through hell. He'd dreamt every night the last eighteen years of telling this guy to fuck himself. But when Joe went to ball his hand into a flamin' fist, the outlaw shot him first with a middle finger that looked just like his. And as Joe fell he beheld the outlaw's face: A young girl who'd seen it all, and grew up in a terrible place. Whose mother once told Joseph to run and bring back help. A girl who thought her father had run out to save himself.\n\nAnd now he’s playing with cardboard. Talk about falling off, am I right?\n"}]}