I don’t celebrate 4th. I may be American but I still Russian at heart. And my name BILL. Like the one you forgot to pay, but I need not care.
I not ask to be born on planet so I misanthropist now and I have no freedom. Freedom… It can’t exist for everyone, it’s paradox of nature and I am human with an unpopular behavior. See that! I rime right? You kids like crappy poetry these days with your excessive bowel movements sagging your pants. What’s up with this?! You’ll get plenty of that when your older believe me.
Weirder still in my presence is fucked up town. I go to library to read on 4th. And yeah I know it’s closed. I’m a misanthrope remember! Well what the hell. Every year you crazy kids come crashing through windows in those grizzly defense suits, knocking bookshelf over, throwing the balloon ladies all over hall.
I finally have enough. This year I come for you in my own great grandfathers’ bear hunting suit. I pop balloon ladies, I destroy American pig.