I don’t think I’ll ever write again…
What he said exactly, Bic blue pen wedged rather carelessly between these crusty ol’ fingernails
Snail-pace would have to do just fine
Go right ahead, neck your age-old Pinot Grigio wine
Sure weren’t we all waiting with bated breath
Mother f—–, see, as things turned out his oh so precise words were a crazy threat to all ‘n’ sundry
The so-called ‘fun-runs’ all too seriously carried aloft time again by a worrying underlying element of rip-roaring pretence
Six of one, a half dozen of the other
Either way, we were absolutely screwed, shrewd didn’t so much as even begin to describe his terrifically lewd conduct when it came his particular time to take to that page
Gonna have to mark it down to some kind of rage
Guess he always did promise us right from the elementary onset he’d wage a most wonderful war with font
Wanton destruction

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