These legs have fangs
It seems I'll never escape the drafts. I don't want to fight that cold feeling that creeps to me while I do my business in the morning, and I tend to plot revenge in such horrid conditions.
On whom do you plot revenge?
You take me literally? I bet you haven't even figured out what "drafts" alludes to: a tortured soul left to rot in the savannah. No, drama aside, it's all about canker sores.
Are you sure it isn't really about your cankles and how they are cold in the morning?
Question me all you want, you'll never receive a correct response. In fact, abide by that Ancient Greek, you-know-who: "Question everything. Learn someth—
...something. Answer nothing." Oh yes, I remember you quoting me that last week. "Euripides pants, Eupaiaferdes pants," my response every time. Oh! we are creatures of habit!
I have to shit, Mr. Immaculate Bastard. And I hate you as much as this drafty apartment. Kindly grow mute while I do my business. Let me refer you to this baseball bat, held tightly in my grip, and my uppercut swing.
pause
You don't own a baseball bat, and you cry at any sight of blood.
....
I despise every mitochondria of every cell in your body.
Not every cell in my body contains mitochondria
FART
