May Whatever, 2000 Who Gives a Shit?
Dear Diary, I hate you as much as all the others.
Another worm looked at me on the bus. I feel cold bitter hatred for the bus. It is a tin can full of rotten maggots. I can't wait to make them pay for everything they have done. Their screams will be a symphony for me. Especially the bus driver. He makes me pay in exact change. I hope he accepts 45 calibers of bullet.
Was a minute late to the tomb called my office. I can't wait to repaint it with their pitiful blood. My supervisor offered me a raise today. Pitiful. It was less than I expected. I wanted to vomit in his sickening face. No more mercy. It is time to quit this job the only way I know how: through hell.
When I start killing, I am going to make them all beg for their worthless lives. The more they beg, the slower I'll kill them, until the pathetic begging they are doing is begging to die. In screams. I am disgusted by them and my veins are frozen with the scorching ice of my hatred. But they will know what they have done when I take their lives.
The human turds living all around me are sickening me with their stink. I can't wait to turn them into dead meat. Dead turd meat. They are a virus and I am the cure of vengeance. I cure all these disgusting turds. Flush them away to a frozen hell.
Sandwich Expert asked me if I wanted a toasted bun. His buns will be toasted when I start killing and I'm not stopping until they're all on the ground and dead. The human shields can't stop me. Just more meat for the meat mill. More blood for the blood sewer.
She should have dated me. I was a nice guy. But the pitiful worms called girls just want real men with real cool trench coats to be friends. Well, I'm not your friend, Marcia, I'm your worst fucking nightmare. I am carnage manifested in a cool single guy you should have dated. Instead you dated another sheep and I'm here with the shears.
A full genocide crusade is my only dream now. The destruction of all of these putrid lives waiting to be ended. I'm going to end them too. I will slaughter them all where they stand. Their suffering will be a hamburger and their cries of pain the steak sauce. Do I want fries with that? Yeah, fried sheep, dipped in blood.
The first one I kill is going to be mom. Because, guess what, you disgusting mound of bones: I wanted Mario Party 10 for the WiiU, not 9 which is for the Wii. I already had that. But I guess you're just another worm waiting to be stepped on by the heel of cold truth. It's coming, mom. And you'll wish you had fucking listened to me instead of the guy at Gamestop.
The killing starts tomorrow. Tonight I prepare for the slaughter. I need my strength and my chicken tendies. The worthless carcass called my mom better not have overcooked them.
The guns are gone. Now what happens to all those paper targets? Don't tell me you forgot about the paper targets. The ones hanging from little clips on fancy clotheslines at shooting ranges. With no guns to destroy these legions of paper bastards, they go unchecked.
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