Saturday, 30 July 2011




Fucking what.

Walter Bishop Reeves, are you out of your fucking mind?!

Did all of that philosophical bullshit finally drive you insane? Are you some kind of idiot? Joining //them// solves nothing. They'll use you like a tool and then kill you when they're bored of you.

Just like the rest of us.

Zach was their toy. Lyle is their toy. I'm their toy. You're their toy and once they're finished with Walter Reeves we're going to find him in a garbage bag, cut up into snack-sized cubes served with a fragrant sauce of blood and other bodily fluids.

And that's if they're feeling merciful.

If you're not back in camp by midnight tonight I swear to God I will hunt you down myself and make //he// does seem like a fucking picnic.

Am I understood, motherfucker?

1 comment:

  1. So you noticed my post on here. Good to know you're all keeping current despite the unfortunate circumstances you find yourselves in.
    I only wish I could show you what I've seen, Susan.
    But alas.
    Choices are made and promises are broken. I've seen the (metaphorical) light, and I urge you to do the same.

    No hard feelings, I hope?