You’re such a pretty girl. You shouldn’t cry. Such a dear. Those tears
aren’t pretty, are they? Look at me, stupid. Now—
Are...Those...♥♥♥♥♥♥♥...Tears...Pretty?...♥♥♥♥?
Do you like making your mommy cry? Do you like that? Huh? The poor
♥♥♥♥♥♥♥ woman. You selfish little brat; you ♥♥♥♥. How do you think she
feels, huh? Huh, ♥♥♥♥? How terrible you are. How mean. How mean and
cruel to your mother you are. Don’t you feel horrible? Making her cry.
Making her hurt so badly. I think you’re absolutely terrible. A ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥ brat.
♥♥♥♥♥♥♥ horrible ♥♥♥♥. Shame on you.
Now there, there. Crying won’t help. You already made your mommy
cry. Nothing can help your mom now. She feels very, very bad, and you did
it. You can’t change that...♥♥♥♥. You’re a ♥♥♥♥, and momma’s gonna cry for♥♥♥♥♥♥♥-ever. Your momma’s gonna miss you something awful. She will
never get over you leaving her and never coming back. You’re killing her.
It’s all your fault.
Do you think mommy’s out looking for you? Do you think she’s worried
about you? Can’t you just see her?...Walking through your once-happy
home, her eyes swollen almost shut from the continuous stream of tears,
hands clamped to the sides of her head as she mumbles....She’s yattering
your name over and over and over. Can’t you just see her? Her blotchy
middle-aged face covered with scratches and her dress all mussed and
caked with the makeup and mascara that slipped and slid from her wrinkles
and crow’s ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥ feet. You’re driving your mother crazy. She’s losing her
mind from worry and fear. All because of you. She’s pulling her hair out.
She’s tugging at her cheeks. Poking at her eyes. ’Cause she misses you,
she’s afraid for you. She wants her little baby back. Her darling daughter.
She wants to hold you. She wants to press your head against her chest and
kiss your forehead. Do you like it when mommy hugs you? Do you feel
safe then? You love your momma, don’t you? Do you like to kiss her and
feel her warmth next to you? No one can hold you like momma, right?
Don’t you wish you were there right now? Mmm. You’ll never see her
again, you know. That’s right. You’ll never see your beautiful mother again.
Ever. Never, ever.
Nope. No more hugs from mommy. No more love. From anyone. No one
loves you anymore. No one cares if you live or die. Your mom cares, I
guess. So, I’m sorry—I made a mistake. No one but your mom cares. But
you’ll never see your mom again...so...l guess...no one ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥ cares for this
poor ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥ little ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥ ♥♥♥♥ who sits in front of me, crying like a big
♥♥♥♥♥♥♥ baby. Cry, cry. Crybaby. ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥ ♥♥♥♥ crybaby. ♥♥♥♥. ♥♥♥♥♥.
♥♥♥♥♥♥♥ pig. ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥ ♥♥♥♥♥.
You really are disgusting. You really are.
I want to hurt you so ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥ bad.
I’m really gonna make you cry. You’re going to cry so much more,
you’ll think your eyes are going to melt. Those crybaby tears are going to
burst open your eyes and rip deep red streaks straight through your face.
You are absolutely doomed, my sweet thing. I’m gonna hurt you so much.
I’m going to see you dead. I’m gonna look down at your pale, bruised,
and bloodied corpse and masturbate. I’m going to run my fingers through
your matted hair—I’m going to let my callused fingers get caught and
tangled in the blood and sweat and grease. I’m going to pry your wounds
further apart and peel off the dried blood and carve new holes in your
corpse so I can ♥♥♥♥ your entire ten-year-old being.
Dear, I will watch you die a horrible death. But then, that’s the last thing
you’ll know—death will be a relief. Because I’m going to hurt you so
much. ’Cause I love to hurt you. I want to hurt you and other little girls.
And you’ll be dead and gone, but I’ll still be around to hurt your friends.
I like to watch you cry. It gives me such a hard-on. Do you know what a
hard-on is? ♥♥♥♥? Have you ever heard of a boner? An erection? A bloodengorged penis? No? A hard-on is for you. That’s right. Just for you. It’s
what defines your entire existence. It’s what made you. It’s what drove your
stupid ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥ father to plug your disgusting pig-slut of a mother and
produce you. But it’s more than that. Because, really, your father’s
imbecility and your mother’s greed are hardly worth dwelling on here. An
erection, which is another name for a big ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥ hard-on, is what forces
men—lesser men—to lower themselves to even consider women. You
didn’t know that, did you? You see, men and women are very different, and
yours is a rather sorry lot.
OK. A quick sex lesson. A quick sex-education class for a pretty little
girl whose destiny hardly demands such an education, but whose innocence
and puffy, wide eyes tell me she deserves it. But be forewarned, my sweet
pupil—your concerned parent or guardian would want me to be sure I told
you this— certain graphic details may be offensive to more sensitive and,
um, vulnerable individuals.
Let me show you something. Let me show you...this. You wanna kiss it,
♥♥♥♥? Feel my balls? Wanna suck the head? You wanna lick it like a
lollipop? How ‘bout my piss, ♥♥♥♥...you wanna drink my piss, ♥♥♥♥? You
want to get down on your knees and pray to it? Get down on your knees!
Get down on your knees and thank your God that this ♥♥♥♥ will soon be
spewing ♥♥♥ all over your child’s body. Pray thanks to God for bringing
you here.
I like to rub my ♥♥♥♥ when you cry. I like to put my hand here—just at
the base of the shaft and massage up and down like this. Slowly. Slowly.
Just like this. I want you to cry now. Cry harder, before I slap your baby-fat
flesh off your ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥ face. And then I’m going to make you lick this ♥♥♥♥
that shoots out the end of this monster.
See that hole there? See it? Stick your tongue out. Stick it out further,
you brain-dead ♥♥♥♥. Little Miss Brain-Damaged. Stick it out and taste the
tip of my sweaty ♥♥♥♥. I’m going to ♥♥♥♥ you so hard and so bad. Oh, dear,
my little dear. My little sweetheart— you’re going to pray to die.
Mmm-hmm.
Oh, ♥♥♥♥ off—I am terribly sorry. I was about to give you an education.
Please do forgive me. You’ll see my little digression was understandable
under the circumstances. In fact, I think that you’ll find it an aid to better
understanding the following concepts: Men, you see, tend to give
themselves over to their erections, and, often, they think of nothing else but
satisfying the urge to ♥♥♥. Thoughtless, yes, I think we can agree.
Allow me to continue. Women, one of which you’ll be quite lucky not to
evolve into, thank you, are fairly worthless. Honestly, I can’t think of a
single thing they’re good for in this day and age. I’m in the minority with
this line of thinking, unfortunately, and my fellow man has allowed pigs
like your mothers and sisters a sad degree of attention, which, of course,
they wield as power. Men have surrendered this power because they lack
the personal strength to step in front of this—the thing most men view as
their sole reason for existing. Their instinctual responsibility, if you will.
That’s right—this red bastard, which is just the perfect size for your mouth,
♥♥♥♥, and butthole, is the be-all and end-all of most men’s lives. Just like
your father’s.
Pathetic, isn’t it?
Now, don’t get me wrong. I don’t want to sound bitter or deluded—I
mean, I’m sure that somewhere, somehow, there is a reason for animals
such as yourself, be it biological or otherwise. But just now— you know,
today, this year, this generation, I just can’t see it. And given that there’s no
such thing as Santa Claus, you girls really make no sense at all.
You don’t believe in Santa, do you?
You see, my dear, trusting student, this is reality. This is what makes
sense. Your situation right at this very moment. This is the way it is.