#brad.

Morty x brad propaganda has gotten me...

“what the fuck was that ??”  brad growled once they were off the phone.  he had stormed out of his office to confront them as soon as he heard the call end.  “i hung up the phone ten fucking minutes ago and told you to get her off the fucking line as soon as i was done.  so what the fuck are you doing speaking to her for that whole time ??"  anyone could tell he was livid.  not that he swore any less when he wasn’t.  “next time, i need you to do what you’re FUCKING TOLD.  or both our lives are going to get real fucking messy.  got it ??”  he went to storm off but turned on his heels and came right back.  he wasn’t done.  “and another thing. only a fucking idiot would stay on the line and chat to my fucking wife like you’re the fucking high school  [ ‘faggot’ for male muses ; ‘fat girl’ for female muses ]  trying to suck up to the popular cunt on campus hoping they’ll validate your existence.”  he checked his mobile to make sure his wife hadn’t sent him any messages or tried to call him with any suspicions.  “she’s got nothing better else to do all day out there in our fucking overpriced slice of suburban hell; t he fucking ‘queen of suburbia’, pta cunt mom she is.  she’s a real fucking nancy drew cunt when she wants to be, so don’t give her anything to suspect, alright ??”

day 44: brad.

the  blood  in  the  water  is  the  blood  of  my  brother,   we  both  learned  it  didn’t  mean  a  thing  in  the  end  if  one  was  thicker  than  the  other. and  i’ve  tried  having  faith,   but  i’ll  rot  like  a dog,   because  i’ve  always  been  scared  of  loving  someone  more  than  i  am  loved. losing  is  fine. everything  is  fine.