"As the hours slipped into days and the days to weeks and the weeks to months, their friendship blossomed then bloomed, and..."
Jon could not help himself: the puke arose unbidden, erupting in a vile yellow-green spray that reiterated last night's meal upon the keyboard.
Fuck his writing sucked! It sucked so baaad...
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Unemployed pantheist, provocative iconoclast, abusive solipsist, failed psychopath.
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Ha ha! Sometimes I've thought my writing was total shit and other times I've thought it was so bad that I COULD blow chunks, but fortunately I never actually have!
One night at work however it became apparent that I had food poisoning. I lay with a 102 degree fever on the short couch, somewhat delirious and wishing I would just die. There are times when I've said my job makes me sick--that night it was literally! Well, actually whatever nasty microbe I consumed inadvertently made me sick, but I was at work at the time.
Hi Faycin, there's no bad writing only bad writers?
or something!
At least he's a good critic.
Thanks for your comment Hobbes, but I'm having second thoughts about this entire post, and may very well delete it or backdate it...
COMMENTS? Come on... gimme your best shot!