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![]() | Laura | ![]() |
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Record |
Achievments |
People Used |
People Mentioned |
RP # |
0-0-0 | Won gold medals in Sydney Olympics | Laura |
Just Read! |
One/1 |
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Laura: DAMMIT! That just won't.....work! That stupid sonofab*tch Hatred. He needs to die. He needs to die a bloody, gory death....and I need to be the one to kill him. (Laura lets out another curse, then looks towards the camera. Our view changes to behind her as she turns around in her desk chair to now face us in this view.) Oh, look, cameras! Oh, a joy of joys! (she sarcastically puts her hands together and brings them up to her chin in a feign gesture of glee. After a couple seconds, she drops her hands to the chair's armrests as she tilts back in her chair.) I hope that Hatred enjoyed his stupid little attack on me. Nothing like coming up from behind to make a point. Hey, I don't blame him---if that's the only way you can get something done, do it that way. I applaud that part, but what he did---so uncool. He went one step too far with the wrong person, me, Laura. Mashing in someone's head with a chair---do that to say, Stephanie Blade, and she'd strip for you, do that to Dustin Masterson and he'd probably get horned up, but Hatred chose ME! I'm not the same person I was over a year ago. I look for death now. I want to kill. People do so many dumb things that the gene pool needs to have these dumb people reduced. I am having MY spotlight and MY TV time stolen by a little cockf*ck who can't drink a glass of water by himself. If he was looking to do this to me in order to have some fun with me, or for a date, or for some other sick, disgusting pleasure then he's just as retarded as his name. "Hatred." I, Laura, have hatred too, but I don't find it necessary to call myself that. I don't need to draw attention to that aspect of myself right away, people will see that in time. I hate everyONE, I hate everyTHING! That's all that needs to be said, no reason to go around with that sort of name just to get a 1st-grader's attention. Laura: People probably think what I am going to do to Hatred on the next StrikeZone will be "fun." What I want to do will NOT be "fun." "Fun" is doing something that brings joy and pleasure to yourself. I won't feel any of that crap as I pound the daylights out of this insidious, awful, dreadful display of humanization. I will only feel relief knowing that another schmuck, trying to ride in on my wave of greatness and cheaply slingshot his way ahead of me, will be put to rest. If I wanted to have "fun," I would go back to the early 1990's and play with Pogs. If I wanted to have "fun," I would go back to the 1980's when I was six and eat a stack of Giggles sandwich cookies. What I'm going to do this weekend-----is business. I have a reputation at stake, I have my own aura around here that I can not lose to a wind-breaking, Britney Spears sing-along-with, SpongeBob SquarePants wannabe. If things go as they should, Hatred won't only be in a hospital, lingering, gasping, praying he stays alive another week--the man will be in another universe altogether. A universe where "Gigli" is an Academy-award winning, well-written movie, a place where J-Lo actually can do something besides walk and cover her butt, literally, for 300 million bucks, a site where Marshmallow Alpha-Bits actually seems like a good idea. That sort of a backwards universe is right where Hatred belongs and right where about half of these other lowly mongrels belong. Oh, if only there were a way for me to get in tune with you more, Hatred. I just don't think you're getting me. (she reaches into one of her shorts pockets and pulls out----oh no----that switchblade of hers! She pops the blade out and runs a finger around it's edge as we close in on the blade, with Laura's face a blur in the background now.) THIS is what gets people to listen. Violence is a step that sometimes has to be taken. That's why people kill, because no one listens to them or takes them seriously when they have an actual point to be making. That's why my friend here is ready to go to work. (She stops feeling around the blade but continues to hold the utensil up as the camera backs up and refocuses on her face, still beautiful, yet now somewhat evil-looking) You probably think you know what I'm thinking, right Hatred? Well, that's not true. YOU aren't me. I am me. I know my own thoughts and feelings, you don't. That is why I can safely and assuredly say that I will let out a scream of delight after I get to JAM (She makes a stabbing motion with the switchblade now) this right into your aorta. I want to see blood being coughed up by you, Hatred. I'm sure you'd enjoy all this, because that seems like the kind of person you are. Just because some nuns beat up on you----you poor, pathetic excuse of DNA. I went to Catholic school all my life until college, with some of the b*tchiest nuns ever known to man, yet you see me walking around, looking for pain? I got whapped right over my knuckles with an old, splintering ruler every time I did something wrong, but do you see me have any problems that can point back to those days in grammer school as a point of origin? I think not! Get over your stupid mental retardation and join us here in a level-headed society. I know of numerous places that would be glad to take you in for rehabbing. I just hope that if you don't go for treatment, at the very least then, please realize how goofy you seem with your personality as it is right now. You LOOK for ways to get hurt? How daft is that, child? Maybe you can't actually FEEL the pain on your skin or in your head, but let me tell you this, your BODY KNOWS> it's there. Laura: If you stick your hand in a fire, you may not feel the heat or feel your fingers being burned, but leaving your hand there just so you can hope the added time brings a hurting sensation to you----your body will do something you won't like. You'll look at your hand and it'll be black, the flesh torn away. Your body will no longer view the hand as part of you and stop sending blood it's way. Your body isn't stupid. If you're getting hurt, you're still doing it damage, whether you have a sensation of pain or not. You're not God. If you break a bone, you may not feel an "owie" but the bone is still broken! I have a feeling that when you talk, I'll be going through this sort of thing myself. You'll be talking, and my body, will KNOW you're saying stuff, but I won't respond or care because I won't have the sensation. My case is somewhat different, as my ears will have been previously numbed from past, boring speeches that completely go against everything I said in my interview, so if I don't respond right away to your tripe, it's not personal. It's just a habit of initially blocking out unnecessary inputs. You, Hatred, may not sense or feel what I will do to you on StrikeZone, but your body will, and it will be crying for help. It will be calling for you to please, please stop beating it up so bad by throwing yourself continously towards me, Laura, in a failing attempt to win a match. You can be smart and back off, you can be a retard and continue, or you can just |
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