fuck. i forgot... it's not quite noon, anywhere and she caught me with my hand n the cookie jar so i go to reach for my quenching, corona and I'm starting at duck food... yes... i pulled that shitty, footlong, with the ecoli infested, lettuce because the deli, had no toilet paper, or soap which suds and she rubs my nose in the lack of alcohol and falling sky and says
-salt rubber
you... should just put that on a bagel, but i wouldn't eat that rancid, lettuce, if i were you.
why... because it's not THE Corona [godly choir, singing, "ahhhh", infinity, like diesel's videos to make me lose my mind] and I'll feel something fall? i have the shits, anyway, what... the... fuck... we are already drinking water that HAS... TOUCHED... POO... what is the fucking difference. yes, people, things were already bad. and if y'all think imma eat my g's, last bagel in existence... y'all dunno me, very well.
i need to sneak back into the break room and i just know that yappy mutt, will rat...me..out. bytch has had it in from me, since she put that silent mask on, with the moony eyes on it, the day MY DOG, died. that fucking little kickmebytch! this... is... my life!
i should never have givin my man/pot fridge, away! i knew it would come back to haunt me... should've listened to my lovely, salt rubber!
