I HATE YOU PAGE 146

MC Aluminum Siding thought he was hot shit because he got a picture of himself taken outside my toolshed (a work in progress). I shoved that camera so far up his goddamn ass that it'll be taking pictures of his trachea for the next three weeks. Jesus Christ, is it THAT hard to understand "KEEP AWAY" signs? Get the hell away from my toolshed, you pathetic bags of wasted sperm.

The Hunchback of Crotchbulge Lane. Yet another unemployed shitfucking gnome that lives in the basement of his parents' house. This clown used to be a cashier at the Walgreen's drug store until they caught him jacking off to the "WORLD'S FATTEST MAN MARRIES DOGBOY" tabloid one day.

Oh hoo-fucking-ray, Captain Horse's Ass is here to save the day and whatever leftovers you have in your refrigerator. The lardass has love handles the size of my Chrysler.

One of the South Appleton mutants entering the "awkward" stage. Nobody in this goddamn town ever seems to grow out of that stage, oddly enough.

The Goth Club meets to decide which mall they want to hang out in and talk about Marilyn Mason, their hero. They were given their own private meeting room in the old janitor's closet, because they used to get their asses kicked by the chess club and most of the kids from the grade school. I hate goths. I hate them even more than ravers. I want to jam drinking straws under their eyelids and pour Drano into their skulls.

George Stevens enjoys one of his favorite after-dinner treats, "Bucket o' Pig Fat." The guy's like one gigantic bloated zit that I want to pop. If congress would've passed that law making murder legal for me, I would be able to. But NOOOOOOOO. Nobody listens to a fucking veteran anymore. I served my country for years and come back to this shit. Having to put up with greasy-faced trolls and human rejects every waking hour of the goddamn day. This town is a hellhole.