Excerpt from"Horizons"
If I EVER write a piece as god-awful, vanilla, and ham-fisted as this'un, may the lord see fit to send an eight foot tall Indian (indigenous American) to smother me with a fucking pillow.
I pray Peter Louis Van Dijk wake every morning to the crushing reality of his pathetic failure, and stand, twice hourly, in front of the bathroom mirror shouting expletives at his reflection while wiping himself down with his own defecate.
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