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You Cunt! You dancing sphincter, honestly, REALLY!?

You might as well be punching kittens in the face. Which you probably do. You probably have a bag of kittens that you choke, punch in the face, and toss out the window so they land in a child's playground. And you time it to make sure you ruin Latino birthday parties.

It's easy to do what you do. You dishonest fuck. I'm a young girl without the embittered knowledge of a leathery whore- so I'm the perfect victim for your shitty mind-fucks.

I mean, here I am, all EARNEST, all a-glitter, like a catholic girl after her first communion,

And you just emotionally RAPED me. And you had fun with that. May Jesus strike you down with thunderbolts. Then rape you. The way only an angry Christ would, because he has my best interests at hand. And my best interest is your asshole getting tore up by a 7 foot man in white robes.

Listen: I hope to God the Taliban finds you and cuts your dick off

I hope you wake up in a bathtub with your dick floating on an ice cube

And I hope you come out of the emergency room with a shit bag.

Let's see how easy it is to Don Juan the bitches with a shit bag on your side.

This is the last time, Fucker, that I ever give you the benefit of the doubt.

I mean... I get it, you get kicks out of this thing, and if I had been trying

to marionette your nuts, then I would deserve it.


( random: wouldn't it be nice if there was an in between word for making love and fucking? not sex... making fucks? Fuck making? Love fucking? ) )

I was going to be so NICE.

But you! You grinch of all Cocks, you antichristic Cassanova FUCK, you filthy bag of assholery, you just made me furious, fumbling for the right insult.

No, I'm not touching myself with a lotion of my own tears, supplemented by Lifetime ( favorite time of all) not anymore. not THIS year.

I am sincerely hoping that Fate will wrassle up his fucking nuts and beat you over the head with a statutory rape bat.

You insignificant cock-munching, shit-stroking derelict. I hope you get syphilis then you get cured. Then you get the worst kinds of AIDs. Then you get rid of AIDs. Then you get dick cancer. Then you get cured. Than a Samurai kicks your door down and fillets your dick.

There's nothing quite like fury to get the old word-motor going, I'll give you that.


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'Hope, you don't have to use it on your wedding night.'

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'I'm just kidding, darling. Don't worry. He's a good man. You did well sweetheart. He's a good man. You'll be fine.'

Hope's paper-thin smile tried to grow as she stared at her grandmother's reflection in the mirror. The mother-of-pearl grip sparkled in her grandmother's hand, bathed by the Chapel's cheap buzzing lights.

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Hope had left the gun on the table.

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