KÆK‹·gjooziggergjoo is... {BAN/eel}—TEATCHED.
(You're not funny and I need medical attention. Now, I know what you're thinking... “then go get some medical attention!”
.EWE
.FIRST
.īVīLåB
.LåDĒ/-LāD{ê}.
Options:
1#) Go to Richard's condo, discover he doesn't live there anymore, cry in parking lot. Wind up in psych ward.
2#) Go directly to psych ward, become involuntary commitant. Have miserable time. Never acquire necessary intel, cry in psych ward parking lot, not re-admitted because I was just there and nothing psychologically wrong was found. Expiry due to excess nihilism.
3#) Go directly to nihilism; drive to any one of an assorted list of addresses, cause a scene (usually a parent insisting their offspring are being stalked by me would be enough, even if there's no chance the child lives there), wait for police to arrive; see above, either 2 or 3 repeated.
4#) Danger: same as above, but I get to build a fire and toast marshmallows before the oinkers come, because I'm pretty sure 911 isn't gonna be sending out a flotilla of units when some juicer starts in again on “Michael Kuczi is a stalker.” (spoiler: you're not getting stalked. You're getting suspended. You're getting prosecuted. You're going to burn in fucking Hell, Åsshole. I dunt nœed any shit from you people; the last bag I was given wouldn't kill me if I slammed the entire bag, plastic included.
With the inclusion of a common element, available in nearly every American kitchen, I could turn it into a hot bag and die. This would be preferable to listening to you idiot moron twerps lecture me about “it can damage your brain.” Cari\/Kati|ClandesruneKathlentine (“Khatty Cåth-ĒĀTïR—parque”) Frogdive Spergspiel, I'm sure there is a lot of stuff that can “cause brain damage.” Talking to you as if you know what you're talking about is pretty high up on the food chain pyramid. I like the subtle indication that you have no idea who you're talking to either. Yeah, I got here just on sheer luck. Right. I'm beginning to see why the closet was such a favored notion amongst certain circles.
5#) I'm going to Esther‘s. I'm gonna ask her if she wants to gobble hallucinogens (lawful!) and diagnose the annelids currently living in my feet. (It's not comfortable. It's not pleasant. It's nothing like blisters on my fingers. It's like all four Beatles ±Ringo are about to land at Heathrow—and my feet are covered in AUNTS FROM MISSISSIPPI.
#6). Go directly to Harborview. Do not pass GO. Do not visit jail.
#7) Go to Buckley, knock politely, wave while opening and eating a can of bamboo shoots, do that until at least one of them has a heart attack. Exit: stage leaves. In a pile near a storm drain to suggest that I turned into shapeshifting goo, and just slipped away.
#8) Same as above, except have sex with №t Grapefruit again and then never see Grapefruit again.
#9) Needles. (PROT-jo) probably wants footage on video, and then I can successfully confound perceptions by getting on record as having survived, then I'll hold my breath until I turn blue and expire. That's gonna shoot down your little brain damage theory. Seems like a lot of turtle but if anything can be done about this stupid KÆK bitchwitch (HOW.ARE.YOU.STILL.EMPLOYED?) it is definitely time to do so. I would prefer not to deal with the hassle of an R.O. They are way worse than the problem they allegedly seek to solve.
10#) Find GrapefrüīT and leave the state. (Go fuck yourself, Smokey.) I'm fucking sick to death of this shit. Not only are most of you a bunch of assholes, but the rest of you have one as well. Also: there's no guarantee that Grapefruit has any interest in even talking to me at all; and unless DICKSTAR STOPS CUSSING AND BLOWING COCKSLAVE DOPE IN HER FACE, she won't even be the same person anymore. I didn't feel like committing a murder/suicide today, and I didn't feel like committing one tomorrow morning either, so... hard, city-leveling broadside blast to port tall Pass.
11#) one week to C(1)rt. I hate everyone. I hate (You), stupid Bellgab User. You're not smart; you're not nice; you're twice as fattening as table sugar and you're not even a rat pretending to work for I.C.E.
You're an actual louse, working for actual Immigration & Customs Enforcement. (Scum.) I suppose that soulless and greedy, grasping automatons need to have jobs available, and I am comforted to know, next week their services won't be required. Their assignments completed, they will be let go. Released back into the labor pool. Free to do something productive with their lives.
I don't have the phone number I would need to call in order to do anything else. I couldn't believe it when I saw that they took the bait... he hacked my phone to delete the phone number of THE ONLY PERSON IN THE LAST TWO AND A ½ YEARS TO OFFER TO LET ME TAKE A SHOWER AT THEIR PLACE.
I PUT HER NUMBER IN MY PHONE.
I CALLED HER NUMBER... I THINK.
I THOUGHT I CALLED HER NUMBER SO IT WAS IN CALL RECORD AND I WOULDN'T LOSE IT.
THERE'S NO NUMBER. EITHER IN CONTACT LIST OR IN CALL RECORD. I DEFINITELY REMEMBER SHE GAVE ME HER NUMBER. HOW COULD I FORGET? THE ONLY PERSON IN TWO ½ YEARS TO ADMIT THEY HAD A BATHTUB I COULD USE.
AND... THE NUMBER IS GONE.
ALSO GONE: SASCHA’S EARBUDS. I DON'T THINK SHE LEFT THEM BY ACCIDENT. THEY WERE KICKING AROUND FOR MONTHS. NO ONE CARED. I DIDN'T USE THEM AT ALL. AND THEN ONE DAY I REALIZED THAT I COULD USE THEM TO TALK TO HER.
THE NEXT DAY: THEY WERE GONE. NOT LIKE THE WIND.
GONE.HOME.LIKE.THE.TREES..
I'm not going to be very good C©mpany tonight, Ballgrab. I'm not going to hospice or hospital, I have neither haven nor home.
But, I do have some weed. Have you heard of weed? Because it sucks.
KNOW: īŪī.
Authentic: you're fired.
Take your loanshark whore with you. It's dangerous to leave me with one (+1) alone.
I have decided I'm going to kill (PRORIT). She's immortal and she'll potentially take me seriously if I wave flags in semaphore that read “take me to your leader” while singing the Grapefruit song.
(You're going to die, Lucian Knight. Not every whiney bitch-baby thugwhorev—like you—dies by the sword, but A Man lives by his words.
Mine slay you by slash. I guess you must really like having sex in prison. Because, you have to go back; and you don't have to fuck Justice yourself when you get there.
.THERE.IS.NO.PEN..JUST
.US.👁️
