(no subject)
I HATE MySpace.
I really do.
Everything it stands for.
Now one has been made for me.
Expect nothing from it.
I hate it.
If it was a real child, it would live in chains in my cellar where I would feed it bat wings once a week. At social events, when asked about the scratching, snarling, heavy-breathing coming from my basement, I would tell them it was the plumbing. As far as the world knows, it doesn't exist.
Sure, sure, one day, it will gnaw though its nasty, rusty chains, and run amuck in the city. And of course, the National Guard will come...and shoot it...a lot...then I will drink tea. Because tea is a good way to end an ordeal.
I really do.
Everything it stands for.
Now one has been made for me.
Expect nothing from it.
I hate it.
If it was a real child, it would live in chains in my cellar where I would feed it bat wings once a week. At social events, when asked about the scratching, snarling, heavy-breathing coming from my basement, I would tell them it was the plumbing. As far as the world knows, it doesn't exist.
Sure, sure, one day, it will gnaw though its nasty, rusty chains, and run amuck in the city. And of course, the National Guard will come...and shoot it...a lot...then I will drink tea. Because tea is a good way to end an ordeal.