Oh, I'm POSITIVE Ansie-Wansie's going to flip the shit at me; possible beard growth, days without bread and water, a nasty slap on the wrist -- I shouldn't expect I'd fucking be able to do it again.
What the fuck ever, he started in on ME. I was just minding my own FUCKING BUSINESS, laughing on the sidelines, and he had the fucking NERVE to start in on my intelligence.
I'd need the whole fucking liquor cabinet just to keep from slicing him.
Probably fucking crying to the librarians, I'd bet my fucking liver on it; pussies are so shitting predictable, never deal with anything by their fucking selves.
How the FUCK do you put up with his shit?
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I'd need the whole fucking liquor cabinet just to keep from slicing him.
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