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Published March 06, 2008

the vermin are closing in. i can hear their howling, stomping, shuffling chaos right outside my door. mere feet from were i sit cowering in the cold dark. huddled in front of this laptop like every other demented pederast looking for something younger and softer to ease the pain. i could easily grab the nearest pair of industrial scissors run out into that unholy hoard outside screaming, red faced, with the veins tearing from beneath the skin of my neck, "THE BEARS ARE LOOSE AGAIN! EVERYONE MUST GO UNDERGROUND!" while stabbing poor helpless commuters, to self-involved to appreciate they've just been done in by new york's very own Don Quixote. they would scatter before me as if to say, 'yes, we are the giant rats and roaches that plague your mind, chase us, kill us...' fucking barbarians! blindly following downward like a swine following it's own stench back to it's sty, except we're not being lead to anyplace so comfortable as a pig sty, no, we're heading off on a swimming tour of the rivers in china. this trip will be bizarre indeed. put one toe in those waters and you won't know if the mega fish gnawing on your ankle is the real deal or just industrial waste seeping into your bloodstream. oh, we've picked a doozy of a field trip this time, and it won't be done with us until we've all paid in full.

piss off

twonicus veridius maximus

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