The Pulling of the Groin
Things have been volatile lately. I recently learned that Michael Andrew Horneffer was having a fourteen-month affair with a furry in California. His "official trips" for the State Department involved getting his turds pushed in by a furry's front-tail. I only learned this by going through his phone, having been overcome by intuitive trepidation. The worst part is, this furry, named Tristan Roberts (who now works with crypto, he calls himself Aetheric and many other names) , stole my fucking identity.**
That fucker stole my identity. I came up with the name Snow Leopard as my alias back in high school. It was because of the mystique around cocaine that I called myself Snow; snow leopards also have blue eyes, as I do. (That's what happens when you skip class to hang out with the kids who smoke cigarettes in front of the McDonald's, you begin to think cocaine is glamorous, not that you've ever seen or tried any yourself. You'll later be sold a torn piece of shopping bag wrapped around grass (from the ground) as "weed," and baking soda as "cocaine.")
Michael Andrew Horneffer, the HIV-ridden sodomite who lies and cheats, told Tristan all about me and my "Snow Leopard" alter ego. For me it was not some perverted furry shit, it was just a fun nickname established over many years. Tristan totally ruined it, started calling himself "SL" (short for Snow Leopard) and basically attempted to become me. Super Fucking Creepy.
Consequently, I dumped Michael Andrew Horneffer and quickly met a new faggot named Brent Michael Girard, who is a cheating scoundrel and a serial liar, never to be trusted.*** (Then again, that's true of all male homosexuals, unless they truly and sorrowfully repent by the power of the Holy Spirit of Jesus Christ, the eternal Son of God.)
Things were quite rosy with Brent at first. At first he tried to demand that I penetrate him, but his stinky anus was too disgusting. Brent had previously dated Gerry Brewster, the arrested-development Peter Pan Syndrome 50-something son of a former senator from Maryland. I overheard Shannon Sheetz (a dude, despite the name) saying that Gerry had dumped Brent because Brent's anus was always dirty. The rumor was credible because Shannon was supposedly Brent's best friend and had moved into Gerry's place as soon as Brent moved out. As a result of the break-up, Gerry was no longer funding Brent's education and rent payments. Brent needed a new target for his parasitism, so he latched onto me. I categorically refused to penetrate his foul, stinky anus, so he became a "top" and did exactly as I told him. That's what I got out of this sick relationship, I exerted attention-seeking sexualized mind-control over Brent Girard, the way a woman would do to a very stupid man.
Although he was good at fucking me, that was the only masculine thing about Brent. Otherwise he was effeminate and annoying. On day in June 2011, having only dated for about a month, the two of us were out for a run together. I got sick of his voice saying "baby," so I began sprinting very quickly. I left him in the dust and ignored him for many hours. Unfortunately, I pulled my groin during this run and suffered disabling pain for months afterward. My groin flared up during boxing class today, reminding me of old wounds and ancient aches.
It would be almost exactly 7 years later that I told Brent, "I am leaving you to date women." He said, "You would give up on love just to have biological children?" I said, "What love? You've penetrated hundreds of anuses, not contented with mine. You have given me every bacterial venereal disease known to man, and probably some viral ones too. You have mooched off me for luxury meals and subsidized rent." That night, he tried to emotionally manipulate me by playing "My Immortal." This was quite laughable because I had outgrown Evanescence in my teens. In order to inflict suffering, I met up with the barista at the corner coffee shop, Dooby's, with whom Brent often played Pokemon Go. I ordered the barista to penetrate my anus, which he did gleefully. Then I told Brent about it, so that he would no longer have a friend to enjoy catching Pokemon with.