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Meet Keith

07 Mar

That’s right, I’m a motherfuckin’ snail.

If ya’ve got a problem with that, ya can fuck right off and complain to ma fuckin’ lawyer. Oh, I forgot: I don’t have one, because I’m a fuckin’ snail, so let’s keep things simple enough for ya fuckin’ amoeba brain to comprehend: mind ya own fuckin’ business. Humans. Arseholes, the lot of yas.

Don’t think that I can’t hear ya commentin’ on ma speed. Ya’re louder than Davina in a fuckin’ blender. What’s the point in rushin’? I’m not on a fuckin’ busy-ass highway, am I? Fuckers all up in ma space, followin’ ma snail trail – yes, it fuckin’ glistens in the motherfuckin’ sunlight. No shit, Sherlock. I’m only tryin’ to cross this empty fuckin’ space – wasn’t askin’ for a crowd of gawping motherfuckers! Absolute fuckin’ joke. Was only goin’ to eat ya shitty lawn anyway. Ya smother ya fuckin’ cripple plants in so much fuckin’ chemicals that I’d melt if I touched ‘em. Ya’re always complainin’ about keep ya fuckin’ lawn short anyway, because mowin’ is too much fuckin’ effort for yas. Boo-fuckin’-hoo; I’m cryin’ ma motherfuckin’ snail eyes out. I mow grass just to fuckin’ survive, ya ungrateful twatbags.

Yeah, that’s right! Sprinkle that fuckin’ salty shit all over me. Fuckin’ Walker’s crisps? Ya dumb piece of shit. Snail bitches love fried potato, motherfucker. Look at me! Off ma fuckin’ tits on salt! If ya had half a fuckin’ brain ya’d have more brains than ya parents fuckin’ put together. Fuckin’ idiot human pixie-dick wanker.

I’m only lookin’ around for a measly fuckin’ bite to eat. I’m fuckin’ starvin’; ma belt keeps fallin’ down ma skinny fuckin’ Kate Moss waist. If I had a waist, that is. Ha! Fuckin’ joker snail, right here. Pipe the fuck down.

Oh, look at this joker. Some sort of young, pink, frilly bitch; talks like a deaf person drowning. Oh I suppose she- bitch is pickin’ me up! Fuckin’ hangin’ in the air, holdin’ me by ma fuckin’ shell. I’d rip her cutesie fuckin’ ponytails out of her scalp if I had arms, the little shit. And look at the rest of ‘em! Fuckin’ eggin’ her on. Eggin’… fuckin’ eggshells… scatters ‘em all over the bloody place that woman does. Would she appreciate me casually scatterin’ fuckin’ razor-blades around her kitchen? I think fuckin’ not! Stupid bitch can- Ah! Fuck! Poked ma fuckin’ eye! Yes, it retracts back into ma fuckin’ angry-ass snail face. Fascinatin’! Yeah, go on, poke the other one, ya dribbling piece of fuck. I’ll gnaw your fuckin’ nose off if y- Fuck’s sake! Oh ha motherfuckin’ ha, I’ve retracted both? Giggle ya fuckin’ heart out, love, I’m fuckin’ blind now.

Oh, so now you wanna fuckin’ feed me, right? You worthless goat-rapist. I’m sure that most individuals wouldn’t be in the best mood to have a fuckin’ meal after being blinded by an breast-feedin’ clinical psychopath. No, I don’t feel like being force-fed fuckin’ grass. Piss off, or I’ll fuckin’ tear out ya throat with ma snail fangs. Would kill ya in seconds, the dangerous motherfuckers would. Kill ya dead, and I’d laugh, ya fucking pig-tailed gape-arse paedo-treat fuck.

Hide in ma motherfuckin’ shell, I will. Yeah, that’s right! Ya deadbeat fucker. Hidin’! From ya! Can’t fuckin’ run ‘cause I’ve got not fuckin’ legs – even if I did ya’d probably rip ‘em out off ma fuckin’ body, ya sadistic little Friday-night cum stain. Aww, don’t cry. Ya fuckin’ pu- What the?! Hey! I’m not a fuckin’ retard! I may be fuckin’ blind  but I can still feel ya fuckin’ shakin’ me like a Michael Jackson kid. Oh, and ya’ve thrown me. Fan-fuckin’-tastic. Yeah, ya’d better cry for ya shitarse Snorlax of a mother; I’d fuckin’ poke ya eyes inside ya fuckin’ skull if ma shell weren’t fuckin’ shattered all over ya dog shit smeared patio. Ya know that arsehole of a feelin’ when ya can feel a crumb in the bottom of ya sleepin’-bag but ya can’t see it or stop it pissing you off? Imagine that except that the bag is ya shell and the crumb is YA FUCKING INNARDS EXPOSED TO MOTHER FUCKIN’ NATURE. Think about that, ya gene-deficient miscarriage of humanity!

Oh, and look at this prick of a dog. I’m in fucking agony, but ya wouldn’t care would ya? Ya pantin’ more than a paedophile in Mothercare, ya fuckin’ freak. Yeah, I’m bleeding. Can’t even see to recon the motherfuckin’ damage, ‘cause I’m still blinded from the little kindergarten whore over there. I’ll slap yas both ‘cross the face with ma massive snail cock, you fuckin’ coons. Lookin’ for a quick snack are we, Dog? I see. You won’t forget this one. Come on then, ya cunt.

COME AT ME BRO.

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Posted by on March 7, 2012 in Creative Writing, Short stories

 

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