Man i really miss the good old days in school. every day, right after the pledge of allegiance and before the morning announcements, the teacher would have us line up single-file clockwise around the room so we each get a fair chance to threaten to murder her with our guns. If you forgot your handgun at home that day, or your mom forgot to pack it for you, you didn’t get to threaten teacher’s life and instead had to clean out the chalkboard erasers while watching your friends and peers shove weapons in your teacher’s face. That was the worst, when mom would forget to pack my gun, because I hated cleaning those erasers. They always irritated my sinuses.

the early morning Vietnam is the sun is a sight to behold me and my 6-year-old Hispanic kid named alfredo named after my favourite food would know, soon after his mother died of malignant Percocet expired juice lukiama cancer, i had adopted him we soon moved to Vietnam to serve under Mao Zedong for his prosperous socialist and farming country soon after the africans raided the coast of the banquque village of the providence of Kotaku the africans sold us for slave trade, soon after my 6 year old son turned to the dark side painting himself black and beliveing in gay trans rights, i hated my self for letting it happen, after the war ended we soon move to detroit

Please respond, I am the mother of a 9 year old that you played Minesweeper with. After your [One "vs" One] match with him he came home with a sore back, not too long after that he got diagnosed with autism out of the sudden, my child has always been very loquacious and talktive, it all started changing after your match please tell me what happened in your private lobby, i tried joining the lobby but it asked for my credit card information for some reason so i didn't trust that, Please don't take offense in this but the internet is a wild place nowadays you can't trust anything anymore. more importantly tho, i await your reply, please contact me at "My_Kid_Has_Autisim@Hotmail.com" if you happen to read this.

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I used to roll half a bottle of laxative pills into a Crunch wrap supreme and then leave cow pies on peoples door mats. People in my town installed porch cameras to catch the "Phantom S hitter" they said it couldn't possibly be one man, the hits were too frequent and too large. It had to be a whole gang of city punks coordinating and making planned precision strikes. I felt like a god among lesser beings in my town. Every time i was at the local diner and i overheard someone screaming about the black slop they found on their porch i felt powerful and unstoppable. I became too arrogant, started striking during the day. That's when they caught me and strung me up in the streets and hit me with rocks. I barely escaped with my life and i had to leave town. Now after all these years, I'm in a new town and I behave well enough. But I've got this nagging feeling, the urge is back, and I'm starting to think that my new town is about to experience a storm