I managed to catch a reflection on the back windshield of a parked car. The tears on my shirt were credible, though the leash held no sign of a struggle. Placing it flat on the concrete road, I dragged the leash across the gravel before holding it up to the streetlights for inspection. Mrs. Opel was sitting at her 814 stoop and she witnessed the
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Keep your bullshit to yourself.
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OOO YOU FLAMED SOME RANDOM PERSON FOR LIKING A STORY. Pull your fist out of your bloody assholed lover and give him a high five, because he's the only one who's impressed.
I hope a large black man named Bubba rapes you anally in an alley and cuts out your fucking intestines. I hope you die in a fucking hotel fire. And most of all, I hope it hurts.
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Did this come from a kindergarten schoolyard, overheard from a few select kids who had guts enough to use bad words when the teacher wasn't around?
Holy shit, this is truly a tasteless post, Radiofriendly. You should really look into eating my shit or something. "And most of all, I hope it hurts."
Ohh, that stings. You're great writer. Now stay the fuck of David's journal.
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