Tuesday, October 29, 2013

If I don't live through the night....

It's a rarity that I post more than once a day, but you're in for a treat, because something traumatic happened, and I have too much to say for just a Facebook status update. So, I was downtown in a coffee shop writing and when I left there I stopped by a store to buy some stuff, one of the items was a bottle of pop. I got home and cracked it open, took a sip and just as I swollowed I realized the pop was flat and that when I twisted the cap it was loose, god fucking damnit, it was already open. Now for anyone who lives in the city that I do, you know the people who hang around downtown, so I can only imagine the type of person tampering with my pop. So, these are my worries. Someone skeeted in the pop, now I'm pregnant, because the sperm made it all the way through my digestive system into my uterus. Science would try to tell me otherwise on that theory but fuck you science it could happen. Someone could've put AIDS infected blood in the pop, and that'll really piss me off, if I didn't get AIDS from the sketchy tattoo place I got my first tattoo at when I was 16 but I got it from drinking coca cola Ima be angry. I just picture some hobo with no teeth, wearing a ratty old Metallica tshirt and black tear away pants that have poop stains on the ass, licking the inside of the pop bottle I just drank out of. What if I just got drugged? I'm going to be alone in my house tripping bawls all high off some mystery drug, I will wake up from my daze with a half shaved head, a burning anus from trying to do a DIY anus bleaching kit, missing 3 out of 10 toe nails, and have a collection of midgets locked up in my basement all because I took a sip of a pop that was tampered with! Whyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy?! If I don't make it through the night, make sure someone deletes my internet history before my parents see it, please just take my underwear drawer and throw it out, don't look in there, there are too many things in there I don't want my loved ones pondering about for the rest of their lives. And make sure I get buried without pants on. I hate pants.

No comments:

Post a Comment