wanted: zombie with good appetite

Dear Mr. Grey,

What the fuck is your problem?
Seriously.

I don't jab sharp objects in my ears. I don't drown you in noxious chemicals. I don't beat your casing on walls or desks. So you get a little stressed out once and awhile...who's fault is THAT, hmmm?

One day of happiness is not enough. This quivering pile of un-confident goo that you're making me is disgusting you. So the fist and I have decided that you best get it together or we're going to kick your ass after school. Do you even have an ass? You kind of look like an ass. A really wrinkly, gelatinous ass.

I mean, christ, if you need more caffeine, just fucking say so, ya twitching mass of bitch. But you KNOW that's just a quick fix, and that's not just my fingers talking.

And NO, we CAN'T go home and take a nap.

Sincerely,
Your host.

**

[space for rent]

Woo.
I feel slightly better.
I don't know if it was the writing or the caffeine...either way, I'm a bit of a junky.
JunkyLite, really.



....I just found a stash of Pixy Stix in my desk.
Ah, yes...this will help me sleep.

@_@


p.s. Anyone wanna drive halfway across the country with me come February? Oh yeah...excellent time to ask that. "SURE! You're mental! Let's go!"