As I crawled up to the old, safe iPad, memories flooded back...
Memories of spending hours writing wonderful stories... contemplating Vladimir Putin fucking the Archbishop of Canterbury...
Memories of listening to Yugoslavian Yodeling...
Memories of going on the dark web to find only the finest of assassins...
Memories of talking shit about Ann...
Memories of talking shit about prog...
Memories of talking to you, my truest friends.
God, how it's been so long... I can hardly believe that once innocent, young Quail was me. So much has changed...
I've ventured out, man. I've seen the world. I've found love, and I've lost it.
I've seen the harder sides of life, man, and I've lived through it. I've been homeless for some time (okay that was my own choice but that doesn't matter)
The point is, I've seen things. I'm not the same Quinton I once was.
I'm a better Quinton....stronger.
Besides, Ann is still the same bitch so I hate her more than ever.
Now she just has a new, dumbass haircut.
Ah, I do love mocking her for that....
Anyways, I'm back, you guys. Hope you missed me💜
YOU ARE READING
At the Strand of Nightmares
RandomMy fourth blog book. It's not all blogging, I write other crap in here, too. Please check this out and join in the fun!
