Hataru, my nose is a finely crafted tool of stench-detecting
nostril-picking booger-flinging mind-erasing person-clobbering
excellence. It is a deadly tool, and I'll be damned if I can't smell
that smell. Such a smelly smell. Eww, that smell. The smell of it
surrounds you.


Oenone: Normally, I'd let my retort make itself and leave you to stew in
the muck of your own shame. But I see that just won't be enough this
time. You've left me no choice but to start raggin' on your momma*.

What do you call a thrust, a grunt, and an hour of crying? Sex with
oenone's mom. Your mother's so ugly that she had to wear a bag to get
you conceived. Actually, she had to wear two bags. She's so fat that she
fell in love and broke it.

Also, check your messages. You'll find one that says it's on.

-Kuntar Semshan


*(Any resemblances to Anoshia are purely fictional and used only for the
sake of raggin' on momma.)

Penned by my hand on the 24th of Glacian, in the year 432 AF.