We were terminal at the terminal.
How could something so wonderful, so right come crashing down so quickly? We could have been
It's too late now. Too fucking late.
There was a moment, not too long ago, when a certain screaming piece of literature nearly drove me to my metaphorical knees. For that brief shining moment, I hid myself behind the curtains of my bed, distraught, with no one to turn to. Everyone doubted me. Even --shock of all shocks-- the man I consider my best mate. I'm sure you all remember.
But that part of my life is behind me now. I am quite done feeling sorry for myself. Now is the time to get back to my feet and clear my name. Now is the time to get violent.
The next person who uses the words 'fag', 'queer', 'cocksucker', 'ass muncher', 'pansy', 'fairy' and other creative synonims will experience what a fist driving into your arse would feel like. Yes, it would give me immense pleasure to do so. I will in fact cast engorgio on my arm first before doing this thing to you. Do not think detention will be a deterrent. Detention will be sweet compared to what you will feel.
Wilkes. My friend. How could you think that of me? Have I not been honest with you? Have we not spent summers in Knockturn, throwing galleons at the feet of big breasted women gyrating around poles? And you think I'd be gay? For CARROW? For shame.
EDIT
*unsigned, containing large jar of murlap solution*
This should help.