There are five doors in front of him.
One is an arbitrary silver-red and shines with the brightness of a dull September evening.
One is a luscious yellow-green, which stinks of a human cesspool.
One is the dream of a million kings, gilded in gold with precious jewels adorning the knob.
One is a plain brown, boasting nothing but Jesus himself.
One is a bright orange, emitting heat with it that was eternally and slowly melting the hinges, but not enough to allow a peek.
He was to chose, for beyond one of those doors, infinite knowledge and wealth lie.
But he decided his pacifier was more interesting than anything else.
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