I Hate You Page 178

The Booze Avenger's hand-crafted "Armour of Trash +5" failed to protect him from the hockey stick I slammed into his sagging gut before heaving his useless carcass through the highest window in the building. I'm just thankful that his grease-encrusted face was hidden by the cardboard box jammed over his head. Come to think of it, maybe his parents did it deliberately.

Tony Cottrell has been legally barred from approaching within 100 yards of anyone who is even slightly good-looking in case the deep-sea horror he calls his face acts as an "intense ugly vortex". I don't know what the fuck he's doing in this picture. I think he's trying to cook a bicycle.

Appleton City's own new boy band sensation, "Dork Squad", shortly before I swung a fire extinguisher at their fat heads and they ran away screaming like the fucking pussies they are. The misshapen meat-bulk in the centre is Jerry Lawson, the grandson of that draft-dodging creep Henry Lawson who is so fucking pathetic that even his dog refuses to be seen with him in public. One time I stole $100 from Henry when he was outside and left his front door unlocked, which makes it legal for me to go in and take whatever the hell I want. Also I can legally throw his haggard old wife down a flight of stairs too.

Scientific tests have proved that Melvin Harman is genetically closer to a gulper eel than a human. Needless to say, that isn't the only reason he ought to be dropped in the middle of the Pacific Ocean. I think I might have already made fun of this jackass's picture. If I did, tough shit for him I guess.

I don't know what in the blazing fuck this thing is. I think it might be a space witch. One time I went down to the bakery and asked if they had any upside-down pastries and the staff goon said "yes, we sure do" so I said "WELL YOU SHOULD HAVE BEEN MORE CAREFUL THEN!!" Fucking funniest shit ever. Then I stole a pie. The pie tasted like shit. Don't ever shop there. I forget what the bakery's name was, but if you see it, DON'T SHOP THERE.

Appleton City's only full-time psychiatrist, Mad Doc Gunterman. He's developed and perfected many world-famous techniques, most of which involve sitting on the patient's head or holding a running chainsaw half an inch in front of their face for 48 hours. Last week I saw some shitfag limping out of the clinic with a pickaxe handle tied to his skull. Whatever it was, it probably served him right.