Thirty
You know that fuck-awful feeling you get when you've just made yourself a sandwich from the shit in your lunch meat drawer, and then you take a bite out of it, only to realize that there was some mold on the bottom side of the bread that you didn't see before.
Oh fuck that's absolutely vile. A friend of mine used to just pick it off and eat the goddamn shit anyway. Then again, the guy had mold growing on him.
But I'm rambling. I've got rotten food because I'm low on money. I'm low on money because I'm without a story. I can't go waltzing to the office looking for a paycheck when I've done jack-shit but heroin and merely stared at the fucking typewriter.
Oh my last post was a good one. What did you want to read? I got dipshit who's busy playing with his wii right now telling me to answer fucking letters. That was it.
Really. City, you're fucking killing me. I'm a goddamn doctor of journalism. A warrior of truth. A fucking geek with a cause. And because the same shit happens every day in this fuckhole I've got nothing to write about.
...Nothing. Get me out of here.
Oh fuck that's absolutely vile. A friend of mine used to just pick it off and eat the goddamn shit anyway. Then again, the guy had mold growing on him.
But I'm rambling. I've got rotten food because I'm low on money. I'm low on money because I'm without a story. I can't go waltzing to the office looking for a paycheck when I've done jack-shit but heroin and merely stared at the fucking typewriter.
Oh my last post was a good one. What did you want to read? I got dipshit who's busy playing with his wii right now telling me to answer fucking letters. That was it.
Really. City, you're fucking killing me. I'm a goddamn doctor of journalism. A warrior of truth. A fucking geek with a cause. And because the same shit happens every day in this fuckhole I've got nothing to write about.
...Nothing. Get me out of here.