It is a generally accepted fact that I am better than you. Arguing won't get you anywhere. It's true. Can't fight the truth. Anyway, I am not Horrid. Horrid is Horrid. I am not.
Anywheat, I like to knit picnic hampers. That is not all. But I might choose to leave it at that.
Did I fool you? Because I'm not actally going to finish here. I'm a liar. You must think of me as awfully mean. And rightly so, too, for I am actually the human beetroot in disguise; yes, that one vegetable that shouts insulting phrases at the elderly. I lied again. I'm not a purple root vegetable.
I should probably end this here. But I won't. Mainly because I like to torture innocents with my awful, raspy voice. But I'm not even speaking, so you aren't being tortured. Except that my awful oveuse of certain words may be enough for some people.
Poor word choice is always a strength. Even for english teachers. They may not think so, heavens, you might not even think so. But it happens to be true. Keep that in mind.
Also, my particular choice in font is most impressive. I daresay the injury caused may surpass that of the torture itself.
On a final note, Horrid.
No comments:
Post a Comment