Can't touch me!

So hey, get this - I read Toilet Boy's creative writing piece just the other day. And holy-fucking-schmoly, is he a piece of work! And his work is a piece of work too! Not in the literal sense. But come to think of it, yeah, it is. Literal and figuratively. Fuck, this is making my head spin. But whoa there - hang on to your fucking horses. I'll get to the point quick, y'all. Re-al fuckin' quick, y'all. So listen up, all you squat earred, attention span shortened postmodern retards. Like fuck this. Toilet Boy decides to fucking write a fucking observational piece on a fucking bus. Like whoa; hey there - a bus?! Like who the fuck writes on a bus? Don't you get headaches from the crazy fuckin' spinnin' around like it's the bloody fucking end of the world?

But hey get this - Toilet Boy writes like a loutish yobbo on his thirteenth VB. I'm for fuckin' real. He swears every fucking line, like it's the end of the fucking world. Clean out that potty mouth, yo! And Toilet Boy gives everyone unflattering nicknames, like Blue Lips Girl and PSP Boy and Crochety Old Lady and Asian Man. Like whoa there Toilet Boy - a little respect's due, innnit? Like come on man, refer to people by their proper names, the way God made 'em, Capische?

And worst of all - so abhorrently bad is this trait it makes me want to fucking punch some people and hang homeless people up by hooking their tongues through steel bars and stringing them along like a shower curtain - he is fucking violent in his language. Like whoa dude- you've got some real issues there. He talks about violently castrating a guy who refused to abide by his request. When the poor dude wasn't even able to hear him properly and all that, with earphones plugged in and all that. So man! That pisses me right off I think I'm going to sock a punch at old ladies and pregger ladies until they miscarry. That'll fucking show him.

Labels: Boys, Method Writing