Why I don't like to read the news
Maybe I’m making a mountain out of a molehill, maybe I’m being dramatic. In Nova Scotia, a group of teenagers beat a kitten to death with a golf club. In front of the kitten’s eleven-year-old owner and two of her cousins. She ran for help, but it was too late; the kitten was bleeding from its mouth when the mother arrived, and these fucking wastes of space just walked off, laughing and throwing the club away.
You know what? I don’t think it’d be unfair if, when these dumbfucks are found, they were beaten to death with a club.
A cat may not be as ‘important’ as a human being, but, really - pick on someone your own fucking size for once. If that had been a child, they’d have the entire province howling for these bastards’ blood. Pathetic excuses for humanity.
And I’m not going to read the Mayflower book today, I guess. If I read stuff about people killing each other on top of what I’ve read just now, you might just hear about a mass murderer running around the streets of Montreal. I guess I’ll go study some math now. Or write a story about some fluffy bunnies playing in the grass and then chewing some human thug - never mind.