catstaffo
"I fucking hate everyone," the neckbeard whispered, his own words harsh and moist on the screen. He dug his left hand in the chip bag and with his left hand typed "sage." The condensation of his hatred dripped down the monitor, unnoticed even by him.
Every birthday I get a card from my dead great-grandmother. They are in Polish scrawl and need to be translated by the Slavic kids down here at the university. Fuckers overcharge me. I won't get them done this year.