pardon my French?

Here we are, the coldest day of the year. The forecast said that it’d go down to -22°C this evening.

Before the news broke out last night, I knew something was wrong. He hardly said anything and directly went to the Winter-garden for a smoke. More than half an hour later, I realized that a certain someone had caused the irreparable damage, that before the year’s end, we had to go to bed at 9pm before the ire drags the blood and spirit out of us.

Oh that fucking piece of CUNT!

It is not my war, I know; but why is that good people have to suffer? Why those illegal actions bring her judge’s agreements? I would truly like to check the Judge’s prick for her DNA; there is no logical explanation, and there will never be.

As a woman, I don’t like to use the “c-word”, but other than that, what else is she?

We were at the office moving furniture around and surprisingly, the C*** opened the door, got in the kitchen to pick up some shit and went out again. As if nothing were wrong. THIS is the new horizon of shamelessness.

As she walked passed me, how I imagined her foot stepping on a slippery spot; then she falls and cracks her head right open. How I imagine her being fatally bitten by a poisonous creature and suffers endless before dying. How I imagined a monster would come out of her skin and tear her apart as if she had gone through a shredder. How I imagined her binging on copper (II) sulfate and swimming in sulfuric acid, before got dumped in an icy and snowy dumpster. (Snow is important, considering the vivid reactions with sulfuric acid). How I imagined so many colorful things. I am usually not a violent person.

But nothing happened. She came in and out of the office with hippopotamus skin -- right, what the fuck do you have to lose? You already blushed down all your personal integrity and basic honor down the toilette.