“Yes, I’m a writer. Cross me at your peril. I don’t understand the reason for your childish display of mirth, or the signs of low intelligence and poor vocabulary. You should be careful my friend… My words are my rapier. I can dip my pen into a pot of creative vitriol at will. I can destroy you with a line of eloquence. I stand above your brutish insignificance and I laugh inwardly. I am able to analyse and dissect your character with a flourish of style and detachment. Figuratively put you on your knees. Expose your inadequacies with a flurry of adjectival chutzpah. Pummel your pathetic concept of Neanderthal-rooted masculinity into the dust. Squeeze the very essence of your existence. Command your soul with a…
“OW!!! YOU JUST PUNCHED ME IN THE NOSE! WHAT THE F**K DID YOU DO THAT FOR YOU PROTEIN-PUMPED PRICK!
“AAAAH, I’M BLEEDIN….
“IT’S DRIPPIN’ ALL OVER MY F**CKIN’ BOOK!
“LOOK WHAT YOU’VE DONE YOU OVERGROWN ARSEHOLE…
“YOU TWAT… IT REALLY HURTS!!!”