I'm playing 'I still know that judge who wanted to send you to a psychiatrist, they could easily be informed' today. Don't think I'd do well as a priest, somehow.
Fuck NO. I'm not wasting a fucking hour each week talking about my fucking feelings and how I'm in love with my fucking mother. And no, not unless you've got a thing for little boys you haven't told me about.
My ass it does, doing a fucking public service; cat depopulation, recycling presents, I'm a regular fucking Jackie O with the social services I've been doing.
You will stop, now, Rose Bud Bloom, or I will have charges up against you and your ass in severe amounts of therapy for a lengthy amount of time, and be calling into consideration that debt of ours.
You do not get to make bargains, Rose. You have exhibited a scant regard for other people. However arguments turn out, they have a right to existence. As do you.
I do not want to see another fucking mention of any carnage, metaphorical or otherwise, caused by you on these things for a very. long. time. Am I understood?
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This is
Psychopathic, Rose.
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I've pulled worse.
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Yes, you have. That this crime is smaller doesn't mitigate it.
Stop it. Now.
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Stop him existing and I'll think about it.
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You do not get to make bargains, Rose. You have exhibited a scant regard for other people. However arguments turn out, they have a right to existence. As do you.
I do not want to see another fucking mention of any carnage, metaphorical or otherwise, caused by you on these things for a very. long. time. Am I understood?
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Well, your MOM.
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Are we done here?
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