Oops. Sorry about that cutoff a few days ago. I had to get that out there before I answered the door. You understand, right? Of course you do.
Now, then.
Anyway, there was a knocking on the door right before I posted that. Not a rap rap rapping on my chamber door, an actual knock. Thankfully. So I got up and answered the door. The FBI. Great. Just my luck. They wanted to know about the fire at my apartment, and they had some questions. I asked to see their badges.
The names were familiar. Can't place them. Fuck.
I think they were agents. Not just for the FBI, but also for the Slender Man. Oh hell, of course they were. Isn't that how every blog goes? Of course it is... Anyway, they had some questions for me. I answered them. Don't worry, I was being careful with my answers. Had to be.
I wonder if they're just trying to fuck with me? It'd make sense. Bastards.
So now I'm here at some random location which I won't post, not that anyone couldn't find out if they didn't want to. I'm trying to keep up with the blogs, although it is hard. So much has happened lately. Zero, Robert... Trying to avoid these things, though. They do draw him to you, after all.
Still, though. I gotta get this out there.
As for my PhD: I've given up on that. I'll just read Hawking and watch Khan Academy videos from now on in my spare time and hope that while I'm doing that nobody sneaks up on me and rips off my limbs and removes my organs and blood and sticks my mutilated corpse into garbage bags just like what happened to my friends at Stanford...
I can't think about that, though. These things draw him to you, after all. So I'll stay here, and hopefully live. Sorry, Morningstar, not gonna lay down and die. If you really want me dead, you'll have to come here and kill me yourself. Until then, I'll live. For them.
Regards,
Dante
P.S. When the fuck did you get your PhD, Morningstar? Son of a bitch.
P.P.S. Yes, Maurice, I'm a girl. You didn't notice by my icon? It's Marie Curie, a badass female physicist from a time when women weren't physicists.
Now, then.
Anyway, there was a knocking on the door right before I posted that. Not a rap rap rapping on my chamber door, an actual knock. Thankfully. So I got up and answered the door. The FBI. Great. Just my luck. They wanted to know about the fire at my apartment, and they had some questions. I asked to see their badges.
The names were familiar. Can't place them. Fuck.
I think they were agents. Not just for the FBI, but also for the Slender Man. Oh hell, of course they were. Isn't that how every blog goes? Of course it is... Anyway, they had some questions for me. I answered them. Don't worry, I was being careful with my answers. Had to be.
I wonder if they're just trying to fuck with me? It'd make sense. Bastards.
So now I'm here at some random location which I won't post, not that anyone couldn't find out if they didn't want to. I'm trying to keep up with the blogs, although it is hard. So much has happened lately. Zero, Robert... Trying to avoid these things, though. They do draw him to you, after all.
Still, though. I gotta get this out there.
As for my PhD: I've given up on that. I'll just read Hawking and watch Khan Academy videos from now on in my spare time and hope that while I'm doing that nobody sneaks up on me and rips off my limbs and removes my organs and blood and sticks my mutilated corpse into garbage bags just like what happened to my friends at Stanford...
I can't think about that, though. These things draw him to you, after all. So I'll stay here, and hopefully live. Sorry, Morningstar, not gonna lay down and die. If you really want me dead, you'll have to come here and kill me yourself. Until then, I'll live. For them.
Regards,
Dante
P.S. When the fuck did you get your PhD, Morningstar? Son of a bitch.
P.P.S. Yes, Maurice, I'm a girl. You didn't notice by my icon? It's Marie Curie, a badass female physicist from a time when women weren't physicists.
When I stole if from some moron's house and used White out on any names that were not mine. As for coming up there to make you. You are not on my list. That means either you WILL be on my list sooner or later, or you are on someone ELSE's list. Keep that in mind.
ReplyDeleteI will, Lucifer.
ReplyDeleteYou will watch your little sister bleed.
ReplyDelete-Ferus