It's been one helluva week. I feel like I've been bitch slapped, cold cocked and whooped good and proper by life. I couldn't get any hits in. Not even a weak slap upside the head. I'm itching to whomp on some poor bastard's ass. I'm spoiling for a fight but no one's obliging me. I'm walking around with a perpetual scowl on my face accompanied by the occasional bad-tempered hiss. Not a pretty sight. Not that I was ever pretty. Pfft.
Shit, who am I kidding? I like being this snarly. I'm back baby and I got the frown lines to prove it. I could do without the bitch slapping though. That hurts like a mother.
I'm snarly, surly and downright nasty. I'm cooking up the mother of all paybacks and I swear to you it's going to hurt. They'll be whining for their mommies once I'm through with their asses. They'll be wandering the streets with dazed faces going, "what the fuck, huh wha?"
Jesus Christ, there's a whole 'nother paragraph that should come before the one above this that should explain the need for vendetta. But I can't be arsed. Just not worth it. Let them NOT see me coming. I'm gonna leave them nutless, jobless and blackballed all across the board. Just watch me.
In other news... I'm on the prowl. In stealth mode. Can't make too many noises seeing as I'm still not sure about a lot of stuff. Soon as I am... I'm open for business. Ya-frickin-hoo.
Ok. I gotta go earn my keep. Toodles. Ciao. Baflang and all that jazz.
I'm ok for a minor fight, but I prefer tickle fights. I love tickle fights. and cuddles. not much else.
ReplyDeletebitch-slapped, I believe.
I'd love to hear more about what you mean with this cloak and dagger stuff...