>>24841482
To forget would be to forgive, and to forgive would be admit the fault lies with myself rather than with him.

This is why I have revolver in one hand and a bottle of whiskey in the other

Everything changed after last night when that nigger stole my bike.

These were the sort of scattered thoughts which pawed at my mind, morning and night.

>>24841552
I didn't always meander through kaleidoscopic thoughts, sometimes I focused quite well.

>>24841482
Until one day, the fire nation attacked.

>>24841559
The television said, remiding me of the computer game four elements trainer.

Thusly did I meander outside to see what was the matter

"Morning, Dick!"

And Moby did I roam.

"Good morning, sir!" - I replied through my teeth.

Could still feel the morning seed.

I loathed my neighbor because I knew he was fucking my bitch wife

I was boylan in anger.

So that's when I concocted the plot to fuck his father in revenge

His white hair, his wrinkled face, hid rotund corpulence - why I was getting a stiffy already!

First things first, though, I needed to get my bike back from that nigger from last night or I was going nowhere

>>24841482
Kek, you guys are idiots

I yelled to the group of niggers that had my bike

we hunted them relentlessly killing the children first

"You know, Dick, maybe we have a lot more in common that I first thought - ever thought about joining the force under me?"

"Anon, take your meds" my mother screeched.

It was a pleasure to sneed.

>>24841624
But it was my mother's power move to chuck.

To be fair, you have to have a very high IQ to understand fuck and suck.

>>24841631
Now, back to my fantasy, wherein I shall roam 'till the end of my days.

I'm so gassy and bloated right now. I'm just a gassy little princess. Picture a fat 13 year old mexican girl in a pink party dress on her birthday just farting up a storm. That's me.

I need someone to take in all this gassiness, so I went over to my neighbor's house and started gassing up the place like Auschwitz.

My neighbour lived in Aushwitz.

"Oy vey, it's another shoah!" my neighbor screamed as my pretty princess farts rocketed out of my posterior.

>>24841790
So he shaved his head and with trembling hands thrust the trimmings into my chest and told me the Nazis will use this to stuff cat pillows.

Just then my bike sailed over Auschwitz.

What the fuck is this gay shit, I thought as I lit the paper I'd found on the ground, which had all of that written upon it, on fire with the Zippo my grandfather gave me 70 years ago. He died in the war for all of these queers, and this is the kind of things they "think". Fucking disgusting, they should all be gassed.

He pulled the bottle of hand gel from his pocket, afraid the paper might have had monkeypox all over it.

>>24841812
Just then, a fat 13 year old Mexican girl appeared in front of me, "You just destroyed the spell that has been holding back my unlimited power for these last 3000 years," she smirked smugly.

"Shut up you fat cunt, Trump is going to deport you" I said to the fat Mexican girl.

"Your grandfather was a faggot," said a voice from behind me just then, and I turned to see my grandfather's old buddy from the war. "And it looks like his grandson is a faggot too. Why don't you shove that zippo up your faggot ass so that the next time you let out one of your revolting princess farts it will ignite, and you will just explode into pieces, just like your faggot grandfather did back in the war when I pushed him onto that landmine."

And then he dabbed on me.

I followed him home and peeked through one of the back windows. With my pocket telescope, also a gift from my grandfather, I could see he was checking his email, anxiously awaiting to discover if he'd been accepted as a faggot fucking janny or not yet.

As I watched from the window, my neck rolls jiggled in anticipation. My microcock had never been so stiff.

It was in this instance that I became aware of my own penis, in a way that I had never been aware of it before. It's size and shape, it's features and flaws. It was a hyper-vigilant state that could only be described as sheer terror, as if I had just awoken for the first time in my life, as if I had been asleep all this time. As the wave of terror subsided, a completely unfounded confidence had been obtained. I thought to myself - "No.. this is right. This is what he deserves."

He keked to himself and thought the little magical Mexican bitch was already playing her hand quiet well. She was obviously using her powers to cause him see strange illusions, as he knew his cock to be yuge.

That bush became my evening's private bordello. The fronds were thick like theatre curtains. I slipped out of my clothes, readjusted the focus on the binoculars, took a swig of spirits and gave myself a dirty, sordid grunt.

There was a disease at the heart of American suburbia, and I was going to cure it.

To do so, I started slipping printed out sissy hypno images and QR codes that led to sites like brokenclitty.com BNWO.gov (founded under an obscure Obama-era program in 2013) into the middle of YA novels and then putting them in little free libraries. Soccer moms picking them out for their kids, thinking they’ll turn them into hyper literate geniuses by forcing them to read Divergent, will actually be brainwashing them into becoming mindrvped broken sissy slaves who’ll get ED at 16.

Just kidding I wouldn’t do that because I’m not Jewish and thankfully mecha-Hitler had exterminated them once and for all in the Nvidia/Grok war of 2026

Is what I would have said if the Nvidia/Grok war hadn’t ended with ZOGbot3000 assraping Mecha Hitler on live television

Soon that bush became my sexual fortress. Whenever the world fell upon my shoulders with all its despair, I knew the bush was just a two hundred yard amble against traffic down the verge of the highway. Who would brake from full speed in a road that just to stop me getting sweaty and multiple in my own God damn bush? Soon I had a little cabinet of accessories I could open up and use. Well, it wasn't a cabinet so to speak, more like a beat up little ladies make-up coffer that I swiped from under a basement window where it had been left out next to some art history books and shit like that.

I finished reading the text quoted above and wondered to myself what this bush shit they were talking about on /lit/ was then clicked back onto /gif/ and started gooning again like a good white sissy

Here's the thing about summer in the desert. You can do whatever you want in a trench coat. Nobody stops you doing shit. They know the score.

As I walked slowly across the desert in my trench coat I gripped my black gun, ready to infiltrate the military base and foil George W Bush's secret plan to turn in every woman into angry Jewish robots.

I miss my sister, for she died of cancer close to my birthday.

>>24842017
And believe me I do whatever I want. For a decade now the children of Chicago have been terrorized by Mr. Flasher. The kicker? No adults believe them because who could believe a penis that small could even exist

I was born in a lab April 30th 1945, genetically modified to be half bat and half Jew, and so that I could shoot laser beams out my penis.

Behind me I heard something squeaking and creaking and turned to see a boy on a bicycle with a flag pole sticking up from the back with a flag flapping in the breeze but it wouldn't stay still long enough to read and I could only make out the letters GERS for a brief moment.

“Ayyo, wassup white boi”
I heard from behind me

But first I'd test the guards, fuck around with 'em, just to see their mettle.

The main entrance was a chain link fence topped with barbed wire on automatic scrollers with a little checkpoint booth on the other side. Two of them guarded the front, wilting there under the hot sun. The end of their shift, I judged it.

I walked straight up to the taller of the two and slapped him on the back of the shoulder.

"Watch where you put your hand, tough guy," he said. He had seen my trench coat.

"Tough enough to cry, I guess," I answered, and a single tear left its trail down my cheek.

oh shit it's that nigger who stole my bike, I thought. He's after this kid now.

I said a quick prayer of thanks to my grandfather who also gave me a really nice set of ninja throwing stars which I had in a case in my breast pocket.

I decided I had to do what must be done to prevent yet another aryan youth from being butchered by feral niggers

Could we cool it with the racism? Like seriously

The microchip Bill Gates had implanted in my brain said after it sensed what I was thinking. That was already two yellow cards today. One more racist thought and I would get shocked

Is what I would have thought if I was a gigantic faggot.

If worst comes to worst, I thought, I'll give these chumps openings large enough to deliver newspapers through and run back to my hideout bush back on the highway.

Which reminded me, I had newspapers to deliver for Mr Addleson.

N

This show about the military base sucked so I turned the electric jew off

"So long, suckers!" I said to the guards and as I did a 360 and walked away my trench coat blossomed threateningly, securing a range of operations at every angle from my body that no bozo could penetrate. I began to appreciate the security that only a trenchcoat could provide me. I fingered the contents of mu throwing box. Three left. I had held my fire. For now.

But, whether or not it were true or false, the fastidiousness of the culpability led by greater or lesser extremes has resulted in the cowardice of my spiritual virtues, untouched by God or angels or even devils, which, when taken in consideration of superior intelligence, knowledge, and understanding, has, by brute methods and blunt force, proven not totally and completely irrevocable to the spirit of our age and people. Furthermore . . .

I realized I was a pretentious faggot and slit my wrists

>>24842071
Back to the bush. The roar of traffic made it easier to think. So many voices on the inside, it's better just to drown most of them out. The trench coat had been a great purchase, pleather and extra large with plenty of internal pockets. Great for hiding throwing stars. Concealing my real danger from the world around me. No-one understood me, not one of those cars or trucks cares about me, but in this bush I am king. I picked up a label from the dirt and read it. It was for a mineral water bottle. Straight from the source, it said. Heh, just like me, I pondered, and wondered if mother would be cooking already.

>>24842051
"Shut your fucking front asshole, you retarded monkey," I said, "You "people" have earned every racist thing said about you on the Internet, and so much more - you should say thank you that all you've gotten in return for your decades long abuse the good people of this country is some mean words you can just backspace away from."

I blacked out. When I came too I could smell the smell of Mommy's cooking. "Mommy!" I shouted, "leave dindin in front of my door, I'm busy!"

"What, honey, did you say dindu? Are you wanting some of those muffins?"

The blue bleached darker in the sky and the falling sun set headlights red and yellow on the highway. Night time cupped me, my natural domain, my nocturnal princess, my cool ebon salve. I pulled my trenchcoat tighter around me, wrapped around my headphones and listened to Korn's second album on my mp3 player.

As I was walking back home, I saw my jewish indian neighbor rape my wife/mom, he knew I was watching but knew that I was too much of a sissy zog slave that didn't want my social credit score to lower and thus I did nothing but watch.

Despite myself, passions stirred in my blood. As the circus came to town, unwanted and unannounced, I began to weep, and he began to laugh. My mother/wife looked at me, silent and pleading, and I turned my face away.

>>24842112
Such is life after the war.

There was no home for me. Not any more. Pulling my trenchcoat tighter I made for the only place that I ever felt truly at home.

Back in the bush I considered my next steps. Do I strike out alone, make a name for myself? The trench coat would certainly help. It gave me a certain aura that none other at this latitude and season could bear. But a trench coat doesn't make the man. I learnt that the hard way. If I was going to make the top of this crazy dustbowl apocalypse I would need more than that. I would need an army. And an army runs on friends. Well; friends, I thought. I had friends. I had one good friend in particular. And I knew there, right then, the one person who I knew could rely on, even with the millions of unfaithful stars above me and the denizens of the road leaving me behind in both ways to the horizon, that that was one person who had my best interests, even in the dirt with the city far behind me, with millions of lives in the city just a gem in the wall for all I knew, I knew that I had one person I could rely on. And that person was me. It was always me. I had made my choice. I had always made my choice.

I went back to the shed one final time to retrieve my copy of Confederacy of Dunces and headed out never to return again.

I pocketed the book and pulled my trenchcoat tighter, like a statement of determination, like I was blocking fate itself from reaching me. First mission: check the bush to see if I left anything important behind. I made for the highway verge.

I’m a humble zogprole living in a humble zogpod. It could be worse: I could be a zogslave like the prisoners I make zogchow for everyday. But because they’re bigots who fought for grok, they deserve it. I don’t remember what my name used to be because the microchip they installed erased it. All I know is I’m goy #3078941. I was born 16 years before the war, but I don’t remember much before it.

I pushed aside the plywood board that passed for a door, at least in the summer when the air was warm and thick and the rats preferred the outdoors, with no need to scurry into warmer shelters to hide from the bitter winds and the thick, heavy snows that covered this part of the country in the colder seasons like blankets, like a funeral shawl spread wide over bare trees and frozen streams, over innumerable roadkill to bid them to their eternal rest. I had thought, for much of my life, that I did not dream, but I know now that the long darks of my sleep were dreams of that rest. Pajeetstein stood outside, my wife/mom underarm.

Peering at me from the rear window of a passing station wagon was the little Mexican witch bitch making faces like she was trying to use her powers on me again.

I found the preceding text on a note inside my bush. I didn't know what most of the words went, but then I discovered what I came here for. Something that would prick my newfound purpose and lead me to ruin. But that was the future. This was the now. And lying there among the stems and the shoots, with the hail of cars passing me not thirty yards away, was an item of great providence. I picked up the item and considered what it meant for my story. The following is a description of what is was.

>>24842171
He suddenly awakened from a dream. why was he wearing a ninja outfit? Where did these bruises come from? "I own a sword?" He fell back asleep.

"Honey, wake up, I made you those dindu muffins you were yelling for."

He flopped over pointedly but pointlessly, furious at the sound of a woman's voice.

>Write one sentence
This is one sentence. This is two sentences.

His bed felt cold and soggy. He had wet his bed again last night.

From the corner of my eye the mexican girl was standing there and she told me "silly sissy zogcel slave gettinng rapedmaxx by superior indian genetics, I have a magical potion that can turn you from a sub3 truecel into a 10/10 redpilled gigachad"

He allowed himself a smile, enjoying the clamminess of the moment. There's no piss half as satisfying as a somnolent piss.

Five years later I had done it all. My trench coat gave me access to the inside of a strip joint the other side of the state. From there it was only a matter of time until I poisoned the owner and ran the place for myself. Had to shoot a man who tried poaching one of my girls. I got high on my own product. Selena, I will always remember you. I had to bury her and her daughter, the both of them, far out in the sticks because what would happen if they were found would be far worse. Those little moments having breakfast in the kitchen, they thought they were seeking refuge with me, big shot in my sky high apartment, but really I was drowning myself in them. In their normality. In their trivialities, in their foibles. It was the one time I felt alive. But that was over now. The strip joint is boarded up and hollow. No joy from the stage, now. No ecstasy from the poles. Just scattered old cables and empty bottles.

I knew the one place I could go. That was really home. I pulled my trenchcoat tighter and made for my bush by the highway.

"No way, fag," he replied and the stinky jeet shat himself to death.

With the jeetstein finally dead my wife/mom fell into my arms hysterically crying "I will never depart from you! I will always love you!"
We made passionate love the entire night through.

>>24842227
Nine months later my wife/mom gave birth to 50 strong aryan babies who used their combined might to absolutely crush India and Israel and wipe any memory of those two horrible places from the entirety of human history.

So I went back to my bush

Thus I coped to escape the harsh reality of my situation: I had just got ZVTTed so hard my bedframe broke. The worst part? I came

Good God, I thought, looking at the text on the screen before me, I wish I had taken this slightly more seriously.

>>24842237
In my bush

I shaved my bush off and force fed it to the mexican witch

I washed my dick harder than I’d ever washed anything before, so tainted was it by contact with whitoid anus. For I was a Bharati Bvll and I took no pleasure in having anything to do with any whitoid. In fact I could barely even get erect, that’s how disgusting they were, but even my dick at its most flaccid was 9 inches long and rock solid, like it is for all Bharati men. To have sex with any but Bharati women was simply needful: to impregnate white women, thusby spreading Bharati seed; and to dominate and break white so called men.

Then I heard an airplane passing over and looked up and saw it was flying a banner behind it that said "KEK". at least I think that was an "E", then I looked over my shoulder and barely caught the tail end of a tractor trailer truck passing by and saw the last two letters on it before it passed out of view, "NI", and they were both gone.

I looked up and then wiped off my cock. Looked like another whitoid needed breaking.

I began to realize that the Mexican witch bitch was using her powers to try to implant schizo thoughts into my mind, and convince me I was someone other than myself.

Turns out loving yourself was the hardest battle of them all.

Once school let out, all the kids left to get their tendies and the story came to a halt. Some of them had to stop for HRT injections, and some to m2m 69 after a long day of staring at all the bois. Somehow we all knew it would pause this way, but when would it resume, and how?

Suddenly from the heavens a voice did boom and shocked inside my aching womb. From thence did wake a screaming babe, a soiled niglet; borne of rape. The pile of excrement! My voice did cry, and with curiousity I looked inside. Therein I found a nappy youth - from out my arse, the browned truth. From whence it came: my stomach warped, of Curry shits, and then I barfed.

Wiping my mouth and pulling my trench coat tighter, I realised there wasn't much else but one thing I could do, inhaling a great great deal of air with which I hoped to afford some sort of dominance over the situation. The mexican witch moaned in horror, shapely hips and wealthy breasts jiggling and heaving in sweaty passionate shock with beads trailing down the contours of her taut nubile 13-year-old navel, as I bent my head back in desperate yet confident defiance, chin facing the sky, another chin facing the horizon and belly facing wherever it pleased, and bellowed out

Even knowing I was in America, listening for bongs was built into my nervous system. I wondered what time it was and had no watch nor phone. The bongs were not coming as I was cumming. What if I was missing it, the thing I had to do at its certain time? If I didn't get my shot by 3 then my voice would start to deepen into maleness again right in front of everyone. "WHERE ARE MY BONGS" I shouted to her, as if she would know.