Fuck you whore. I can't believe you. You sit me down and give me broken useless fucking information, and expect me to glue it together listening to some nigger who can't teach you how to take a shit? Nobody else but me could do it only because everyone else gave up midway through because of the nonsensical nigger babble that came out of the screen. Why didn't I make my move on you when we were all alone together? Why didn't I pick up that ridiculous 2 liter flask in the corner and shatter It on the table and stab you with it until I didn't have to deal with your bullshit anymore? I had a 4-inch knife, a folding scalpel, and pepper spray in my jacket. Why didn't I instantly set on you when everyone else was gone? I could have sprayed you down onto the floor, slit your fucking whore throat, skinned you, and fed chunks of your whore flesh to the shrimp in the tank you kept on the desk. I would have put the rest of you in the incubator and grew mold all over your golem fucking expressionless body. But I didn't because why? I should have, and I fucking hope I do. When you let me go back to get my supplies, I could have come back with a gun. I could have hidden a gun in my room and used it to fucking shoot you. I could have fucking shot you and the two useless people you made me work next to. The disgusting pitiful jeet and the foul mongoloid girl that looks like she got hit in the face with a pan. I could have kept a pistol hidden under my mattress, It would have been so easy. I could have stolen my dad's .22 or better yet the display revolver in his study. It would feel so liberating to kill you three vermin. I can tell the jeet and the gook I hate them (and I will), but you deflect it so strangely. You have no emotion, no soul in those two retarded golem eyes of yours. I want to see them actually react when I point the gun at you...