I HATE YOU PAGE 206

Bloated Ernie "rocks out" with his guitar. I hate rock and roll music, it gives me gas and then I start farting all over the goddamn place and before I know it, I'm having those farts with gravy lumps and I have to change my underwear after a few days because every time I sit down it's like I'm sitting on top of a goddamn wet beachtowel and I don't think I need to remind you all how much I fucking hate the beach and all those idiot kids with pails.

Every time I wake up in the morning, I like to move a few logs. Most of them end up looking like this cretin, Bart Henderson, who's moving a few logs of his own. I used that big one on top to replace his spine after the unfortunate accident where I removed his spine on purpose.

Oh no, the Dick Witch is here to shove her log into your eye. Jesus fucking Christ, what's the deal with all the mutants and wood today? I hate wood, I once fell asleep in the forest and I woke up in a jail! How the hell does that work, I fall asleep for five fucking hours and they somehow manage to build an entire jail around me, what kind of fucking shit is that? It's some Russian communist Cuban thing I tell you, and also I hate witches so that's that and if you can't deal with it then you can go back to Canada and your little commie pinko health care system.

M M M My god what a bulbheaded shitbarge.

The Alverson family. They've got drawings all over their putrid corpses so they might disguise themselves as real humans. No luck, chuckwagons, I've been using their heads to clean my chimney for the past month.

How the hell could somebody throw out a perfectly good chair like that? Oh wait, upon closer inspection, there appears to be a gigantic humanoid-shaped shit stain on it. Nevermind.