Back. Again. For real this time, though.
My typist is a terrible liar of a person. Who neglects me horribly. I don't care if she has a Star Wars game, that doesn't mean she can just ignore me for three weeks! Er, two weeks, I suppose--writing a 40-page fic in a week about me isn't exactly neglect. Even though it wasn't me exactly.
But this time, I really am back, and back I shall stay at least until August, lest I murder my typist. You see? She's got me so upset I'm saying these things and not being guilty at all about it. I am very upset with her right now. You can't even know how upset I am.
Typist: the blatant abuse of italics probably gives them some idea, actually. Me, it makes me think about ice-cream trucks...
Oh, be quiet.
But this time, I really am back, and back I shall stay at least until August, lest I murder my typist. You see? She's got me so upset I'm saying these things and not being guilty at all about it. I am very upset with her right now. You can't even know how upset I am.
Typist: the blatant abuse of italics probably gives them some idea, actually. Me, it makes me think about ice-cream trucks...
Oh, be quiet.