"Why are you just sitting there?"
"Get the fuck up and and move!"
"Your to slow! Move your fucking ass!'
"Don't give me that look! I'll wipe it off your smug little face!"
...
Pain, the crashing of hard knuckles driven by a machinists forearms. Blood. The screaming of your mother, wishing she would just shut the fuck up and let it happen
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and get your ass on aim if this is the kind of thing on your mind lately.
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