[Clipart 007] Blowtop

[Clipart 007] Blowtop


Blowtop was angry as fuck. And you know what? He had every right to be. Because seriously, fuck everything. Fuck the schools, fuck the government, fuck his job, fuck his life. Nobody got a damn fucking thing done around here but him, and he barely did that himself.

Those cunts over there sitting on the bench drinking coffee? Fuck them for not working. What were they contributing by fucking drinking some fucking coffee? Helping corporate interests in coffee manufacturing industries exploiting workers in South America? Fuck that. Or maybe they were drinking some special snowflake organic imported non-GMO bullshit to make themselves feel all fucking good about themselves. You know what? That’s even worse.

Timmy got sent home today for fighting with some other kids. Teachers are a bunch of snot-nosed pricks too self-righteous to realize Blowtop’s kid was a fighter, just like him, and wasn’t going to take some fucking sons of bitches picking on him like a pussy. “Waah, waah, teacher, they’re beating my skull in!” No, Blowtop’s son went in there and pummelled them like the cocksuckers they were. And he was punished for it. Oh, you’ll listen all fucking day to Blowtop during their teacher-parent conferences about Timmy getting called a faggot all fucking day and talk about inclusivity policies and all that bullshit, but then when the kid stands up for himself, no. Of course not. Fuck that.

Fuck, Blowtop was so mad right now. The waitress couldn’t make a damn bagel to save her life. There wasn’t even any fucking bacon on it like he specifically asked for. He had half a mind to barge up there and start screaming until they got his fucking order right this time. But no, he just sat there, fucking simmering. No use in letting those assholes realize they were morons, too.

The newspaper was partisan trash. Every website Blowtop visited was partisan trash. Anywhere to go that wasn’t full of clickbait and bullshit? He hadn’t fucking found it yet. He slammed down his phone, which was a piece of shit that cost him five hundred dollars, and ate his shitty-ass bagel and drank his lukewarm fucking coffee. He was just as much a hypocrite as he was mad, drinking this damn coffee instead of fucking accomplishing anything. I mean seriously, fuck. When the hell was he going to get some work done himself? Whenever the fuck he wanted, that’s when.


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