Monday, December 26, 2016

Fathers' Day

Sam here. Mood: Pensive. Back story: 100 percent cock-a-doodie untruths.

Every year on Fathers' days, I think about my father who I murderedWho ran away.  Who died a tradegety and about my son who I genenetically manufactured into a womb of a Lisa who is also deaded.  

To my dad who wasn't the greatest guy at all but did try to learn me rite from rong but he worked all the live long day:  I hate you.  You left me with Mamma Dell.  She is crazy.  I am sorry Father for art witch I sinned.  By setting squirells on fire.  I am sorry I put you soooo out of your way by picking me up at lake of which I drowned the cats.  I am sorry I poked holes in your condominiums for which made my brother happen.  I am sorry I put baby in hot water hot water burn baby HOT WATER BURN BABY.  You taught me to stick by family so cops won't find me.  Yet you will not stick to family.  Because you are in ground hole in Big Back Yard. By House Shed. Of were I live.

To my genetically manufactured son, spawn of 7 seamens.  Turkey baster not included.  Purchased seperately at store. : you are deaded.  I hardly knew ya.  Except for the intense bonding where I talked to your mom's belly sac witch was easy because she was gagged and bound.  I MISS EWE.

So I am going to PARIS next week.  Like I tole you readers about in a blog post.  Before this blog post.  I will block out all social media so that trolls cant hurt me.  Again. With truth and stuff.

DON'T FORGET YA'LL, I GOTSA HICK ACCENT AND I AIN'T AFRAID TO USE IT.  I AM ALWAYS WATCHING EWE.


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