I have nothing to write but garbage, everything you read here is a piece of total and absolute chicken shit, that shouldn't reach the dirtiest of eyes. If you continue reading, however, you might find some piece of a tiny glitter of gold. This comes with a warning from the depths of Tartarus, don't continue reading.
You've reached the second paragraph, you must be suffering from lonely mountain disease. Again a warning, "this is crap". Having said that a few times, I've lost all moral sea water to bother with washing up on your shore again. This is my story, the ravings of a madman or a wise man. A giant rat once spoke to me, surprised?. I can't say I cared much for rat talk, but curiosity being one of my vices I listened. "You will go and open the fridge and give me some tuna" what did you expect a rat to say, in a squeaky voice. I got up and went to the fridge, luckily there was some tuna in a half-eaten can about 45 grams worth. I bent down and placed it on the kitchen floor and went with a joyful skip to the chair beside the table. If you thought I skip joyfully, then you're as stupid as a slow-moving slug.
I watched that rat stuff its self with the tuna and then run-off. That was my life, ordered about by vermin. I sat in place for what felt like a few moments of my slow growing life. Nothing moved in the kitchen, I had removed the darn clock months ago. It's ticking, grinding my ears like nails to a blackboard. I hate time, all it does is move. All I knew, it was Monday, the day that people hate the most, probably force of habit or peer pressure because I see nothing different about Monday that makes it any worse than any other day.
To be continued...
