The day your guardian angel says fuck it


That day everything goes wrong. That day you invent such exemplary curse phrases and combinations you feel like you’re hosting the golden globes.

The dirt you swept under the carpet reveals itself to your mum.

The coffee table renews its hatred for you big toe.

Your phone literally jerks itself from your palms and hits the ground, screen cracks, it continues to skip away, defying all the physical laws and finally finds a toilet to splash into.

A rabid dog attacks your bag and eats your homework.

A cat pees on the homework the dog didn’t eat and shits, cause why not; it’s a cat.

It rains on your way to school and the bus left you, so you walk immigrant miles.

You fall into a puddle of mud (which you figure out is definitely not mud from its crystalline and hue changes as it dries. Its shit) right at the entrance to your school and everyone is there to snapchat it.

You curse like an irish republican as you walk back home with roaring laughter and flash photography behind your ass.

You decide you ain’t wiping that shit off.

You get home and realize you lost your key. Mom’s at work.

The shitville police spot a crazy-eyed ,black ,teenage male trying to climb through a window.




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