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Bloodfart Appreciation thread


Cory Feldman

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I like that you called me bloodfag.

That made me laugh.

Even though I know it is not metal to laugh.

 

This is pretty cool though.

I like being appreciated.

 

I am looking through boxes of prison letters.

To me.

From me.

I think I sadly lost all the really awesome envelopes my (dead) BFF drew.

I will still look more.

 

After I get totally weeded to the max, dude.

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I always imagined bloodfart to be a suicide bomber.



 

 

 

 

But because she was drunk when she strapped herself up, she used road flares and a flavor flav clock.

 

 

Pointing a cordless phone (cordless because she ripped it off the wall) at everyone threatening to take out her half of texas with her "bomb". Yelling about how absurd Happy Feet was because penguins have no natural rythm like the blacks.

 

4 hours later the police arrive just after she passes out. No one called them because no one was scared they just happened to be passing by as she hit the floor.

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He hung himself off his balcony.

I had talked to him the morning before.

And we had planned a trip for me to come visit him.

For the longest while, I thought he was the love of my life.

From the age 17 until about 24.

We just were too alike to be together.

We always ended up in jail.

Trouble-makers.

 

I have had a few BFFs commit suicide.

I guess I am not that great of a friend.

 

Last year my other BFF, Star, hung herself in her closet.

She had always been suicidal, the 10 years or so we were friends.

When we lived together, she would pretend as if she was going to kill herself.

I wouldn't go the same route as everyone else.

They all flipped out and tried to talk her down off the ledge.

I always told her,

"Sure, let's do this. Don't fuk around."

In a show of compassion and love, I made a suicide pact with her one whiskey drunk night.

The thing was, I got to pick the method.

 

I told her we had to take the bottle of whiskey and lay in the road until we both got smashed over by a passing vehicle.

We laid in the road for hours.

And drank all the whiskey.

And ended up laughing the night away.

Finally, she realized we weren't going to get run over.

So we went inside and called it a night.

 

She never tried to kill herself again while we lived together.

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My stupid mom spent all morning harassing me.

And calling the courts and constables and them folks.

About me taking care of outstanding warrants.

She came up with a plan for me.

 

I have to go talk to them.

With a sad letter from her about hard times.

And money in my hand.

Tell them I can't work.

Because I don't have ID.

And they are keeping me from getting one.

Community service, please.

 

Some bullshit.

 

Either way.

I have been trying to find my last release papers.

Court file folders.

One of them is my juvenile shit.

It's pretty cute.

 

The rest of it made me laugh.

It's like,

Dudes, I am not even this person.

How can you be sueing me?

That isn't even my name, leave me alone already.

The state needs to get off my case and let me live.

 

None of it is recent enough.

So I have to keep looking.

For the most current file of petty crimes.

 

It's mad wack, son.

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