Let’s say you decided to start a trendy and chic meth habit. And let’s say that you had just spent the better part of three days working on that habit. And furthermore, let’s say that you were bored and decided you needed something to do. What would you do? Would you watch TV? Crank some tunes and dance around a lot? Vacuum the carpet obsessively for the next ten hours? If you said that you’d jump in a white minivan, do donuts by the side of a busy road outside my subdivision, pull out a four foot long fucking sword and swing it menacingly at me as I drove by, then haul ass down the street dragging the sword out the window while leaving behind a trail of sparks and a neighborhood full of scared kids, then congratulations! You’re the shitbag, asshole, waste of sperm tweaker I called the cops on last Saturday. Fuck you. Continue reading
