My chronic illnesses are making me ill, chronically, once more. Everybody focus their psychic beams at that rat bastard god and together we’ll make that pompous sleazebag regret giving us free will. And psychic beams.
The pain meds kicked in. I could solve any cold case in America. Perhaps a few Canadian ones as well. And everyone wants to bake me a beautiful loaf of sourdough bread. Because I am so healthy and cute.
Sick again. 1-800-KILL-GOD.
(via chimichanghoe)










