The critic doesn't get to rush a chapter. The critic is a greedy reader that isn't going to get their wants satisfied when they want. The critic needs to shut the fuck up. I have work to do and a gentle psyche that is tormented relentlessly by this shity critic. I suggest that the critic goes as far away from me and stays as quiet as they can and they might get another chapter, or I'll throw this shitty book away right now.
Yeah…next chapter is a fiction story because I can't deal with you people right now.
I am moving. I did work a full day and the tease of the arduous summer is giving a taste of the pain in the back it literally will be. I come home and whats left of my room smells like shit, pop corn and, bathroom perfume. I immediately decide not to be sober tonight. And I retreat to the shower with a bottle of whiskey which is immediately invaded by a shitter who has no sense of the curtsy flush. We get free water, flush the toilet after your dangled dingle drops. I now finish my retreat with shit in steam form coating my naked body and lungs with shit. I just saw my roommates feet and I can attribute him to this.
Today offered the pitiful same. And i don't need to tell the people what you did today. And if the pitiful same is going to rear its shity head then I'll play my same card that I'm in my future for me not for what you can take advantage of me. Have fun doing the same to me, I'll get more and more used to dealing with you and letting you know you can't be a part of my life if your going to drag the negative of my life back in it. Dare approach me. I'll tell you in calm voice your not allowed me. I think I'm done here. the end. I don't even want to write you a fiction story. Go away. The end. Fuck the rap that was supposed to be after the Costa Rica story. Go away. The end.