I HATE YOU PAGE 104

Marvin used the computer to attend a computer rave party! What a wacky little fellah!

Here's a fashion tip you pukeworthy little shitbrick: stop dressing like a 12 year old epileptic Japanese girl unless you want to see how bright and colorful your internal organs are when they're strung around your scrawny neck and I'm above you, laughing and spitting on your PLUR-infested maggot shoulders.

My archenemy, Pits McCarthy. That balding old bastard once threw a metal football through my damn livingroom window at 3:00 am on Thursday. I went over to his house and was going to punt his family jewels up into his skull cavity, but that Sasquatch of a wife called the cops and had me put away before I could even gouge an eye out. One of these days I'm going to hunt that weakling simp down and smother him to death with an oil rag.

Pits McCarthy acts all tough and shit to some pansy Jarhead moron. I could take them both on and still have a free hand to press RECORD on the video camera taping me beating them to a pulp.

Pits McCarthy again, hanging out with his homeless drifter friends who live on rotting meat and cardboard. Notice the fungus growing from his groin. He hasn't touched a woman in the last two centuries. Pathetic old bastard. I'd throw his fat ass through a glass window, but he'd get stuck in there and they'd have to cut away the house from around him like last time.

Oh give it up, My Pretty Princess Unicorn Raverboy. Nobody really believes you're attracted to women, not even ones that look like masculine guys.

As long as your eyes don't drift above the bellybutton, you'll be okay. If you look any higher, sorry chump, but you're troll bait.