(no subject)
FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK-- SNAILS, THEY'RE EVERYWHERE, THE LITTLE FUCKING SLIME RAGS OF DISGUST, THEY'RE SURROUNDING THE HOUSE AND I CAN'T GET OUT WITHOUT SEEING AT LEAST 5-- CAN MY GUARDIAN ANGEL SAVE ME? CAN SUPERMAN MIRACULOUSLY EMERGE FROM THE DEPTHS TO ELIMINATE THEE CRETINS OF MISERY FROM MY FRONT YARD....
please? I'll even settle for some streaking pervert, if only they were to crush them all.
There are about 4 snails blocking the exit out of the house, and I have to leave to go to work soon and am in a flurry about getting past them. Fucking snails, why can't they go haunt somewhere else? I think I stepped on one on my way out to the mailbox before-- and there was one little slimey bastard there, waiting to scare the hell out of me-- but don't want to look on the bottom of my shoes as I actually like these shoes and if there's bits of snail on the soles, then I'll never want to touch them again.
Snails of all shapes and sizes, I declare my utmost fear of you, and ask you nicely-- leave me alone?
Breathe, breathe, keep breathing.
I don't have a flamethrower, I don't have time to dispense the salt, I don't have any comrades with me to guard the perimeters and try to safeguard my departure, I don't have any WMD's, I don't have any desire to take them with me in holy bomb-fucking death in attempt to rid the world of ye slimey infidels-- so shall settle for my mighty weapon of attack-- running really quickly out the door and through the yard, refusing to look where I step and resisting the urge to squeal like a pathetic little girl whose afraid of snails.
Wish me luck, maverick renegades.
please? I'll even settle for some streaking pervert, if only they were to crush them all.
There are about 4 snails blocking the exit out of the house, and I have to leave to go to work soon and am in a flurry about getting past them. Fucking snails, why can't they go haunt somewhere else? I think I stepped on one on my way out to the mailbox before-- and there was one little slimey bastard there, waiting to scare the hell out of me-- but don't want to look on the bottom of my shoes as I actually like these shoes and if there's bits of snail on the soles, then I'll never want to touch them again.
Snails of all shapes and sizes, I declare my utmost fear of you, and ask you nicely-- leave me alone?
Breathe, breathe, keep breathing.
I don't have a flamethrower, I don't have time to dispense the salt, I don't have any comrades with me to guard the perimeters and try to safeguard my departure, I don't have any WMD's, I don't have any desire to take them with me in holy bomb-fucking death in attempt to rid the world of ye slimey infidels-- so shall settle for my mighty weapon of attack-- running really quickly out the door and through the yard, refusing to look where I step and resisting the urge to squeal like a pathetic little girl whose afraid of snails.
Wish me luck, maverick renegades.