все что умеет делать , отправлять YO . можете побаловаться слать свои YO мне , e1re
I sat alone in the cathedral, reflecting over my life and my mistakes. I walked over to my priest to give my confession. I told him that I had found a new God. A better God. A purple God. The priest, astounded by my blasphemous confession, asked me what the name of the false god was. Taking a few steps back, knowing what was to come, I uttered the name. "Yo." It happened in an instant. The purple, shapeless deity appeared in front of us both. The priest, clutching for his crucifix, chanted a flurry of incantations, all in vain. Yo would be satisfied. Yo demanded sacrifice. Quickly, he lunged for the priest's phone and installed himself into the device. Soon, a bliss came over my priest. His pupils, a shade of purple, became wide. He was happy for the first time in many decades. I grabbed his arm in brotherhood as we walked into the sunset, chanting the only true incantation. "Yo."