Baby goats made from dead green stuff.

So screw the dreams. I thought I was having some weird ones. But compared to the junk Michael used to dream mine are nothing more than self-obsessed ramblings. I'll only bother telling you any future ones if they have a happy ending or some such junk.

So this week let's talk about that vicious murdering fucked-up shiteating hateful cocksucking evil tyrant bitch of a whore from hell, who, for the sake of my school-life, I'll call the Whorehopper. So it's Tuesday and I'm in a Maths lesson. Then Mr C. tells me the Whorehopper wants to talk to me. So I go and talk to her and it's about the freaks webshite. And she's saying it's really bad and junk 'cos of all the swearing and playing with cats (Colin) and crap. And she's asking me to justify it and I really can't be arsed 'cos I'm tired and then she and the Gimp move on to talking about my (comics) website. And they're saying how I spend hours on it every day. Which is total bollocks 'cos all I do is check the hit counter and that's about it. So then they're saying how I can't hand in my website as my final computing project (which I was totally counting on) and how I have to use Access. And I'm pretty bummed 'cos I hate Access and love HTML. And then Whorehopper says how I have to concentrate on my studies much more than others because of, and I quote(ish), "my condition". In reference to me going blind. Which is all nice and tactless. Y'see, I'd pretty much forgotten about that and that was my way of dealing with it. I don't think about it and it doesn't bother me. So, 'cos I totally haven't dealed, this, like, official confirmation of impending lack of seeing really shakes me up. And my jaw is totally out of my control and I can't control my face so I make like I'm scratching my nose. And then she says i don't mean to upset you and that's it and i ask if i can go and i walk - nearly run - to the door and try to open it and push instead of pull or pull instead of push and try to get out of that fuck-off huge office without breaking down in front of all those worker people and I make it out of the doors and then I'm walking and it's sunny and i'm crying and sobs are screwing with my chest and i can't breathe right and i'm wiping tears from my eyes and i pass people i know and try to walk normal and it's too hot and it's sunny and i run upstairs and i break down and cry for like 20 minutes. Bitch.

What's that? I should deal? Screw you. Denial rewls ^_^

So anyway... I'm feeling better now. My tummy's still rumbling but I no longer have to be wary of every fart.

Um... oh yeah! I said I was gonna reveal the real reason I was sending these e-mails. So that can be 'cos I want to. Profound I know.

Shit! So I just had my dinner and then Colin phoned me. And he's been expelled! Yet more evidence of the evil that is the Whorehopper. What'd he even do? Bring a knife into school? So what?! So we're planning a retaliatory strike or some such junk. Colin for his expulsion. Me for the forced reality-facing. E-mail me any punishments you think the Whorehopper deserves and I'll probably stick together a site about it. For security's sake she shall be called the Whorehopper. And kinky dude can be the Gimp. This way, if the powers that be ever try to tell me off for making a website about them, I can say it's all about some fictional characters.

Actually, I've made a decision. The website's address is www.whorehopper.fsnet.co.uk. It's gonna be about the exploits of Whorehopper and the Gimp. You know who I mean (if you don't, ask me and I'll tell you). Send me all the sick and depraved stories / situations / punishments your fucked up little minds can create and I'll stick 'em on there.

We'll make the bitch wish she'd never been born.

Later,
Caleb

PS - Damn! Only one mass e-mail from me this week? That's 'cos I'm busy. Expect much more next week, with the official launch of Whorehopper and the Gimp. There's a preview page of sorts up at www.whorehopper.fsnet.co.uk if you can be arsed to go there.