Listen, I'm a guy that rolls with the punches. To wit: last week, my neighbor made a big stink about my rose bush sticking out onto his driveway, and I didn't smash his fucking head with a crowbar. Instead, I stuck a knife in all of his car tires and his cat. And the voodoo doll I made of him with burlap and a lock of his hair that I cut off his head while he was sleeping. And so maybe, yeah, he died or whatever, under what the authorities called "mysterious circumstances". BUT. I didn't smash his fucking head with a crowbar for giving me lip. And that is just one reason why I'm the President.
The More Things Change, the More the Voices in My Head Tell Me to Kill
by Lewis Charles
Rate this submission