"The book Into the Wild was a lovely story and turned into a wonderful film. Unfortunately it is not exactly fact-based. You see, Christopher McCandless was not escaping society, but taking a survival vacation with his lover, me. After months alone in the wilderness, we became starved because dumb old Chris couldn't gut a goddamn deer before the flies would get to it. He was completely useless out there. So I did what any survivalist would do. I killed him and ate him with a lovely white wine fermented from my piss, some snow, and dung found near our camp. He was delicious! I actually spend a second winter up there making sure I got to savor every last morsel of Chris. Then I scrubbed everything down, removed all of his bullshit whining about me being a selfish lover from his diary, and carefully placed his belongings in an abandoned bus. Occasionally, when the winter wind carries the brisk scent of a far away campfire, I still recall those last nights we spent together, me eating his braised hamstring while cackling about giving his frozen wang a handy. I will always love you buddy." -Brought
I fucking hate you, work. I fucking hate your cunty guts. Fucking die. -Gap
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