Chapter 17

chapter next one…17
i was supposed to say something potent and enlightening to start this chapter.  But i forgot.  My problem with smoking marijuana is that after each time i smoke it, i hide the pipe in a different spot.  And often with its lighter.  Or lighter all the time.  Every time.  All of when time can be.  i lose it.  its gone.  All i want is this medicinal effect perfect and I'm happy and I won't call people pussies. 
oh yeah, finding my pipe.
Oh, so he's here and and can't smoke to hide behind his sneaky farts.
A)so bad.  it hurts because I want it.  I am a learned addict.  I drink now.  During the government closure I ordered cocain tea from Peru just to try and antagonize worlds again.  Its good shit.  Does exactly what i needed. Insomniatic battles throughout my entire time working here and needing to work the next day.  B)fuck you and I'm tired and drunk, and don't need to be starting a new chapter.
Wow, good old beer drunk gave me the spins.  Ok, slept that one off.  Its early.  I'll work today.  I still have to arrange a meeting with housing about calling the pussy a pussy because he heckled me from behind a window.  And what will be discussed with them will be that I'll go talk to a counselor here that work can provide.  To the counselor I will just have read this story.  Maybe.  I should probably be delicate as the rape case did still happen and legitimately made me more ill in the head then I've ever been, especially for those first few months.
The cat fish wants to prove she's not a cat fish.  She's freaking out right now.  Apparently a russian super model nurse wants to visit me in the far off miserable majestic wilderness.  I can imagine that "James" will want to be a part of it.  The people will heckle from coward afars of what he did to her.  And he will try to drive past me with her in the car and his dick in her mouth.  Ten years he can't approach me after this entertainment mongol sutured a baunch string as a leash to him to buy out anyone that gets near me.
the critic says "James is up!"
I say "i win" in response.  you don't just get to be the narrator in a story of your choosing is the moral of this story.  When that pussy.  Not the pussy from yesterday that I have a meeting with housing because he tattle tales that I call him a pussy.  The other pussy. The faggots pussy, rather the pussy's faggot,  "James".  You can back him all day.  I don't need to spend time with the guy and I'll walk away from him forever.  I win.  He can't purchase me.
The critic says "James likes her."
The critic say they are sorry.