For Hank

Hank, You disgust me.

When I think of you, I’m reminded of a stench, akin to rancid cat urine, sour, acrid, attacking the nostrils which remains in the fabric of my memory for days, months, years, a lifetime! I believe even dog shit to be above you. You are a ninny, a rat bastard and a fool, not worth tuppence to a soul. I’m frankly surprised you haven’t yet offed yourself and saved humanity from your evil, cantankerous, malignant, misinformed filth. I wouldn’t stop and give you the time of day if your life depended on it and I was made of clocks.

You fraud! Pretender! Would that I had magical abilities, I would transform you into something useful, perhaps a roll of toilet paper, as shit seems to be attracted to you. Excuse my vulgarity, but Hank, you seem to bring out the worst in people. I can barely look at you without become overcome with an unquenchable urge to find the nearest sharp object and de-octify myself! I doubt that would bring any reliefhowever, as no one can forget the pure vileness of your image. You look like someone tried to put out a forest fire on your face with a pickaxe, you humdrum kaleidoscopic human garbage disposal!

FIE! Fie on you! If there were no moral or legal consequence to my actions, I would not hesitate to strangle you in the most violent fashion and nail you to a stump in the town square, where people would come from miles away to shit and piss upon your wretched lifeless corpse. Restaurants would be invited to dump their used deep-fryer grease upon you, and you would be vomited on most riotously and finally set on fire, an outhouse built upon your ashes. May you contract syphilis and disappear, you worthless fleshbag.


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