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Jesus Christ fucking stop it
You do not sound like the Flea Bag, Gill. You sound like a disturbed child. You sound like you aren't allowed to use the sandpit since The Incident
"She's been behaving strangely since that business with her mum"
As they frogmarch you to the boats & planes, to lands you've not been to in 60 years or more, there to die far from your loved ones, alone, they play a tape of Flora saying how she puts things up her bumhole and owns some furry handcuffs
Like a haunted ventriloquists doll but instead of saying gottle of gear then stabbing you it pops up when you least expect it with an anecdote about how its boyfriend once sucked his own sperm out of the wooden doll anus, then it's head spins round
You are dying in the land of your fathers, the cancer went untreated when you got "sent back". You lie sweating in your bed. There's a scratching at the window, little wooden hands. You see the haunted doll again
"my bf once got his whole forearm up there" it says
"my bf once got his whole forearm up there" it says
Your coffin is lowered into the ground. There are no mourners, you don't know anyone in this country. Just a figure in a cowl. It lowers its hood and an evil familiar wooden face is revealed
"last night I was riding so hard I literally shat the bed" it screams
"last night I was riding so hard I literally shat the bed" it screams
