Nothing stays the same

Chapter ten

Seeing Her at the door, one would think of slamming onto herself and hoping she would accidentally fall down the stairs and utterly kill herself with the clumsy nature of wind, slippery stairs, and horrible footwear, pity—the door isn't sturdy enough for such attempted feet.
"I don't see you, vile spawn." Zheng Peng remarked, "Kiss my arse, and go suck some other cock, I don't fuck women, let alone fucking before my seven am coffee break."
"You can't say that, I'm your sister, aren't you happy to see me?" She inquired.
Happy to see a spoiled girl from a young treating him worse than the dogs, barely fed scraps, and whipping oneself if they didn't obey her wanton orders? That's like trying to allow a woman to go back to her abused husband knowing he's going to rip her apart, stupid but not that footing of stupidity as well.
"No." Zheng Peng replied, "I would've preferred if you had been buried alive, pouring three gallons of gasoline and they lighted you on fire—screaming severely in agony. What an interesting excuse to drink vodkas with hard pleasant ice inside, in a rather large shot glass as well."
One could say a dim view of life, could lead to a shorter life, pity not stupid enough to believe bullshit tangling around the wickers then.
"Peng Peng, who's at the door?" Ling Sung Jiao inquired, "Is the pizza man here? It would've been nice if he didn't almost break his neck, don't you think?"
"Yes, pity it isn't Charlie though, it's a vile spawn woman, who happens to have the same eye color as myself." Zheng Peng muttered, "Wooden stakes are never there when I need one."
"My name is Zheng Ping." Zheng Ping replied, "Peng is my younger brother, my youngest brother anyways."
How crooked, she finally used one's name, and it wasn't in vain, vile behavior nor to spite the ass within itself, safe to say she hasn't blocked a pigs cock from shoving her vile, arrogant self with the shameful display of plastic where her boobs should've resided.
"Oh." Ling Sung Jiao smiled, "I wasn't aware there were any left, I assumed they all died, rightfully so, in the deep six-foot ground."
The subtext is a wonderful thing, but why spoilt that lovely translation, when one could lead it the self imaginary and imagine the vile plans riddled underneath that clean, squeaky clean hands, currently holding a lovely box of who knows what inside.
"I hope to meet you again, I'm moving in across the hall." Zheng Ping replied, "I'm sure we're going to be good friends."
The landlady Mrs.H, clearly didn't tell this idiotic sheep in wolves' hide that the last owner of that apartment ended up more butchered than fine-cut steak served in a sub. It is pity, the horrors within have been cleaned to speckled hides, of course, there is that rumor about a flesh-eating ghost living in the shadows of the apartment, but likely a silly rumor.