A week ago I told the Superficial Slut-Baby to shut the fuck up, and ended the call stark as a machete with bumblebees suspended in its amber handles.
I wish I had told her what a horrible person she was. An email declaring how I didn’t want to hear her voice ever again might not have been carrying enough cataclysmic pathogens to turn her toxic life inside out, make her think for herself, but I think that eventually she’ll call. Like in three weeks or so, whenever Christmas really is. I don’t expect to makeout with her clit, though, sadly. She’s probably of the small percentage of females who hate that practice, anyway; wouldn’t surprise me in the least. I thought I was the fucking enigma around here.

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