Engauged

Mother of god! I dropped this zesty salsa all over my freshly starched white shirt. My brain faltered. My head let me down. I need a shnazzy cleaning product to remove this blemish. It's outside of the tie-buffer. It's outside of the boundary of tie bufferdom. In the distance I saw a red circle. That was my target. I have been a pilot for almost 8 years. I've seen my fair share of tough landings, but in terms of suicide missions, this was my first.

Tah-boooo. I will stalk you until the day you die...she said. She said, a hundred times. It's a Texas mow-down. Vvvvrrrrr...motion sickness. To many mistresses down to speak of to dream of a little vice, a small vice me and you. Little afternoons, tiny indulgences. Steppin' and driftin' in the fiery aftermath, of my destruction, which was taboo to mention. Even in this terrifying new medium. Freaky squeak the E. I know that money is the big funny.

Hey quick question, actually no, actually my question doesn't make much sense anymore. In that short time...my question no longer made sense. Twas irrelevant. Sick [sic]. In the big money. Wet dreams. Muddy transactions. What the fuck is that noise? Listen, think twice about what I'm going to say right now: I can't figure you out. What a tell. What a sick and twisted lie. Slime. Slime. Fallout. Begin, to end. Tell me what I want to hear.

Imperative, you say? I'll try interrogative. Who was there on the night of the alleged rape? What do you mean your dad will beat this? What do you mean you hate [racial epithet]? How can you be so insensitive? What's a rake? Isn't that for leaves? Why dost thou celebrate bygones? I found proof, aren't you scared? Why aren't you scared? Why do you talk about your dad so much? What about your mom? Do you have a mom? I don't, Chris.