Maybe it's the biscotti you ate, but you're feeling brave. The laptop is everything- your work, your portfolio, your creepy collection of pictures you've saved off facebook. You take two steps forward until you're pressed up against the thug. You look up, you say "no."
When you wake up, the first thing you see is small puddle of blood and urine. They're both yours. You reach for the gash across your stomach, but someone tells you not to move.
"You're lucky," they say. "Your high-pitched screams scared that guy away. He left this."
It's your laptop, your baby. Well, just a laptop. You don't really know the first thing about loving a newborn or life in general, so you just invest all your caring and passion into inanimate storage devices.
"Great," you say, the words barely audible with all the blood in your mouth.
"Please don't move or say anything. The ambulance is on the way."
Even as you hold your spleen, feeling your blood spill through your fingers, your mind is focused on one thing: ambulances are expensive. Why'd you go and cancel health insurance? You should have risked it with your Russian landlord. You try to stand up, but stumble under your limp legs, falling back into your blood puddle.
"Please, mister, don't move," the stranger begs. "And do you have any undisclosed blood born pathogens? I won't freak out unless I should freak out."
Liberals want to mess with the rooms where we poo and pee. Unacceptable. We must protect our poo and pee.
More fake science from the mainstream scientists: Dr. Schrodinger claims cat is dead, but cat is alive and a dog.
These all just look like normal cats to me.
From what I understand, this genre is about getting eaten by crocodiles. I excel at this.
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