I HATE YOU PAGE 166

"Squinty" O' Malley uses his one good eye to focus on the carving knife that I was preparing to do a little freelance acne removal with. The poor kid's been using his teeth to ground up and recycle glass with for the past twelve years. Oh yeah, his parents spend all day smoking dope too, because they're fat and bald hippies. I stole their lamp back in the summer of 1983. It was a piece of shit that broke three days after I took it. I sent them a bill but those peckers never paid me. Fucking deadbeat hippies.

Goofy little Mikey Sinclaire was seeing stars. Soon I busted into his hellhole room and began bashing his squirmy ass with the dinette set I stole from his idiot parents. Then he started seeing a whole different kind of stars. This moron packed my groceries at the local Vons last Tuesday, and put the goddamn bread on the bottom of the bag. I returned the favor by bouncing a can of soup off the crotchmolester's skull.

"Hello, welcome to Fat Cretin's Loft of Repulsion, may I interest you in a flabby white trash shake?"

MC Urinal Squad busts a few moves from their recording studio. Those two cretins on the left are whiter than the toilet paper. The one on the right is darker than the toilet paper after I've eaten at that Mexican food joint down 18th Street, the one that has a surprising absence of stray cats in the area.

MARCHING BAND IS MANTASTIC!!!

Some stuck pig swimming in a pool of her own filth. I'm too fucking lazy to come up with a clever caption for this. Also I'm really drunk and the last thing I care about at this point is entertaining you Inter-net jackass geeks.