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Blood Snorts

Blood on the page“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!!!”

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