A P P E A R A N C E: typically blond, styled ala finger-in-lightsocket. that nose has been broken before, you bitch. thin as a rail. tough as nails. lipring, earrings. bony hands. grin of a superior predator, because he plays with his food. quick as fucking lightning. what's it to you, motherfucker? sometimes seen with the fashion accessory of a four year old child -- careful, it bites. ( so does the bitch it came out of; she takes after proud parents.) |
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H I S T O R Y :  I was born on April Fool's Day 29 years ago and the joke was on my bitchwhore mother because she shit out five others like me by one prick or another before she got blown up or shot or hit by a fuckin' train, I don't really remember.
I'm the fastest of the fuckin' lot, too, and the sharpest, and the quickest to wreck your goddamn shit; I'm derailing trains and unbuttoning shirts at 15, making sure everyone leaves alive at 18, best friends with that asshole lie who likes to think he can tell everyone around here what the fuck to do. One day, five years ago, we're going about our goddamn business (which is to fuck up you and yours) blowing up a goddamn train, at which point the perfectly respectable thing for the passengers to do is lay down and die, but no, this crazy blue-eyed bitch slutbag whore jumps out of the wreckage and nearly takes lie's goddamn head off. Well. Being a crazy bitch slutbag whore has never really prevented me from sleeping with anyone. You might say I have low standards, but let me assure you; one broken nose, nailtrack scars, and three broken ribs later, they aren't. At that point, the respectable thing for any cunt like that to do is to not fuckin' bother me again but sometimes bitches just aren't so bright. But no. She stays around the camp, and lie, once he gets out of his homicidal-maniac-mode is like, "actually, we're in need of crazy bitch slutbag whores who are talented at taking people's heads off, she stays." In retrospect I almost feel bad about punching him then but then I realize it's not my fault lie can't blow up a train well enough to completely kill off its passengers, and after we've sufficiently kicked eachother's asses enough the bitch still stays. Whatever. So I procede about my business, which is looking after my bros, setting shit on fire, and sleeping with hot chicks (and in that order) because sometimes things you ignore go away. I think it worked for like. A week. And then she got all mouthy with some other prick in our camp and I hauled that crazy bitch back to my flat because, apparently, there were consequences. At some point she broke my nose again and I didn't really figure out why for a while until she started getting fat and yelling at me all the motherfuckin' time. And a while after that there's this little miniature version bitch-in-training with her mother's blue eyes. Yeah. Shit's got consequences. I get why lie fuckin' hates everything, because the whole goddamn game changes when you've got something to protect. |
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