| and furthermore, i resent you even implying that i had anything to do with it. fucking preposterous. why don't you take your little button eyed tadpole and go play full-contact rugby or cricket or something. whatever it is that you decide to engage yourself with, count me entirely out of it. it's not as if i go around putting my face on every warm-bodied person's groin area while lamenting endlessly about my lost innocence. no. i leave that task to you, my fickle, fickle little friend; you and your slimy little nickle twister. and while you're down there rubbing your precious brain clean, would you not mind retrieving that thought about how it might be ideal for you to end your life altogether? i'm running low on oxygen, and i'm near sure that you're the one sucking it all into that oblivion which you call your body. do me a favor and donate it to science. |
