Written by Balls
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Wake up. It’s 10am. Don’t go to the gym – sleep in a bit more. Jack off. Can’t get it up. Pull out the sock from 2019. Rosa Luxembourg cutout over the front. Nice. Instantly get hard. Fuck it. Cum in fifteen seconds. Don’t pull out. Let it sit for a bit – you wanna keep moving, but not so fast you forget to look around you. Fuck it again, this time soft. Now you’re ready for the day.
Check your laptop. Discord app dings – that’s adventure. One notification from Iskra. But you can’t see it. A prompt fills the screen asking for your government issued ID. You live in the UK. Fuck. New privacy law. That sucks. You put in your license details. Then you notice something. User, “ordo” rejoined. Needs to verify just like you. But they clicked the wrong button. Image of their ID gets put in the general chat. Click the photo. Zoom in. Horror. It’s Keir Starmer.
Blind rage – that’s good, go with the flow. Cabinet. Take out a beer. Drink it. Drink another. Drink Three. It’s not enough to get most people even tipsy. But you’re a pussy. It fucks you up. Go to the living room. Roommate on the couch. The roommate is fat. The couch is damp. Doesn’t matter. Push them both aside. Find the weak spot in the floorboard. Pry it open. Metal box just below. Hell yeah – that’s your stash. Ignore the discord nitro Xbox live promo codes. Push aside the dvrt usb archives. Reach in. Go deep. Go 3.4 inches, hard. Your fingers find a handle. Then a blade. Still sharp, hidden to avoid the Blade Licensing Act of 2026. There it is.
It’s clear now. The opportunity – two birds, one stone. One chance. Look at the ID again. Get the address. Put it in your GPS. Hop in your car. Drink again. Put the keys in the ignition.
Travel isn’t always pretty. The journey changes you. But the destination is suddenly clear. Grip the knife. Grip the wheel.
Enjoy the ride.
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