Yeah! New rules, new title, new story! It's not anymore about me, Walrus Eggman! It's about my author.
My author is a son of a bitch who was raised by whores in San Francisco. Even as a child he began to reveal his dangerous, psychopathic personality, which led him into a series of fictional characters massacres back in the 90s. Rehabilitated after a long...
But wait... If I talk about no one else but Him, I'm not denying his existence. OK, I'll write nothing more about my author. He has never existed. I'm my own author.
And I'm tired of these stories... The old scheme - comments on news - is way better for the development of my ability to write in English, the sole purpose of this blasted blog.
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2 comments:
You are a sick, sick man. Get some help...
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