Fuck
Fuck. (There’s nothing better than to start off a rant with this word. It sums it all up perfectly. It says, “World, I am pissed off. I am seriously steamed and I need to get some shit off my chest.” Now, why is that so? Is it because of the way the word sounds, which incidentally is a release of some sort? The eff at the beginning, the U which seemingly is the rage bottled up, then the CK sound which sounds like a fucking release? Shit, the word perfectly describes the act of fornication doesn’t it? Wheeew. End of long tangent.)
What do I do? What the fuck do I do? This chick is lying dormant on my bedroom floor, she’s dead I just know it, she’s fucking dead. Oh God, oh God. I shouldn’t have given her that pill, man. She was way too plastered to handle E, dude. Way too fucking plastered. And, wasn’t there remnants of coke on her nose? Shit, the bitch has coke? Where the fuck is the coke?
Whew. There that’s all better. Now I can think clearly. Relax, man. Just fucking relax. She’s a nobody. Look through her purse. See what the hell is in there, maybe she has some cash, or shit, maybe some more coke.
FUCK… This bitch is loaded and connected. Oh fuck fuck, she’s Guillermo’s cousin. And the bastard is calling her. Wasn’t he supposed to be here with my fucking coke an hour ago? Shit shit shit. I gotta call him, he can’t come here now. He’ll shoot me. I already owe him money.
Holy shit, that’s a lot of cash. A lot of cash. Oh fuck she works with Guillermo, too. I know I’ve seen her before- at his place? At the club? Where the FUCK have I seen her before? Who the hell is at my door?
Guillermo. What the fuck is it, man? What do you want now? Didn’t you get my text? (I never actually got around to sending him that, but fuck man, he doesn’t know that.) My coke? Hold on, hold on.
Oh.
Fuck.
