Blood on the Blackboard
I'm not sure what it is about that scene that seems to require gratuitous profanity. Maybe it's just me.
Tuesday, March 13, 2007
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Why must the Monkey subject poor Timmy to the horrors of his variegated fluids? The gods themselves, they do not know.
8 comments:
It's not you, it's the way the girl in the plaid skirt is tilting her head so callously towards the girl at the door. A bitch is mandatory.
It's not you.
"Alright, I'm ready...wait, 2 rackets this time? What gives?"
"That's right, whore. You're going to love 2 rackets and when we're done, you'll be begging for a third."
"I know your game, and you won't get away with it. That girl is NOT an amputee, she's just tucked her legs underneath."
"Get with the plan bitch. I'm just about to jump on her spleen. We WILL be in the Paralympics Tennis squad and there's jack shit you can do about it."
Girl in a surgical gown?
Check.
Hastily-covered operating table?
Check.
Chest-stretcher implements?
The twins had those.
All Hetty needed was the technical drawings; then she alone could prove Year 9's secret plan to create the world's biggest breast implants. But where, oh where, would she find the final proof?
"So Carrie -- has the bleeding stopped yet?"
It's not widely known that the night before the graduation when all Hell broke loose, sweet little Carrie's best friends had her pull a train.
Soon after opening the door Sally was savagely torn limb from limb and eaten by the savage girls of Sixth form. That'll show her whose boss of this school...
"What the- who the hell are you?"
"Shut up, Dyke. Hetty, this is not the sort of tennis club you think. I'd think twice before you go through the initiation ceremony."
And a hush came over the crowd as she rode the red wave all the way into the room...
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