Friday, November 9, 2007

Enough With the Burps in my Face

I’m all done with your burps in my face. Do you know what a burp is? It’s a bullet from a fucking gun, fucker. Why do you think it’s ok to do that? Shit stinks. Fuck that. Shit stinks. No more burping and holding your mouth open like Marla Singer exhaling a cigarette. No more burping and huffing into my face like someone huffing to make condensation on the car window so they can draw a dick on their friends’ car. No more burping and fucking blowing it like the fat guy in Baron Von Munchausen. None of it at all I’m fucking sick of it and your going to make me cry if you keep it up. You asshole. If you could fart and blow it in my face I bet you would do that too. It’s the same thing, what you’re doing. I breathe, and I like to breathe air that’s never been in your fat fucking gut. You know what? No burps on any part of me. No burps on my lap, no burps on my hair, my belt, no burps up my ass. But especially no burps in my face.
Guess what? Fuck you, cut it out with your burps.