Plagued Soyjak.Party / The Sharty - The altchan born from the ashes of /qa/; also a containment thread

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I am a small publisher so you might have not seen the book I published for @Creasman
Untitled.webp
 
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selfish little pissbaby.gif
>>PEDOPHILIA IS FOUR CHAN KULCHUR IF YOU DON'T LIKE IT GO BACK TO REDDIT
><PEDOPHILIA IS WOJACK PARTY KULCHUR IF YOU DON'T LIKE IT GO BACK TO XITTER
>too lazy to attach the appropriate images
 
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pilesthebeaver said:
I am a small publisher so you might have not seen the book I published for @Creasman
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>Page 1
>Hello. My name is Meursault. I also go by Creasman. I love to play gay gatcha games and have sex with women who look like men such as TerryCrews and my lovely e-wife Kuzburger. This is my story.
>I was born in Uttar Pradesh, India to a lesbian couple. I actually didn't know they were lesbian because one of my moms was so fucking hairy I thought she was a man. I am obsessed with nigger penis, and this comes from an event in my life that I still remember to this day. I remember being in school and one of the dark Dalits from my class slammed me against a locker and dragged me into the bathroom where he had sex with the goat I shared with my family to have sex with.
 
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Creasman said:
snca
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I'm a first year medical student, and I work part time at a local supermarket. Besides me there 7 other employees. I mainly unload cargo and take note of inventory but I also sometimes work the register when the need arises. Every Tuesday at 6pm I have to be the one who closes up shop. Since we are a small local store there are no cameras and I'm the only one who stays behind until 6pm that day. In the last few weeks, I have taken the liberty of taking home with me one devilish orange from the produce bin containing "Italian Oranges". It started off normal. My original idea was to draw the face of @nigger froot on it and record a video of me practicing my surgical suturing skills. I would post it on the sharty, and it would net me a lot of (you)'s. As my scalpel exposed the flowing nectar of the sweet fruit something stirred deep inside me. My hand was shaking as the suture needle punctured the bumpy skin of that dreadful little ball. It was not disgust, no, it was fear. Fear, because I knew that for the rest of my life I would be chasing this feeling. The exact same sense of doom felt by the future opioid addict as he smokes his first line of heroin off a foil. Slicing chunks of flesh and molding an orange to my desire felt as good as oxycodone, like a warm blanket over you washing away worries. I could not post the video, my heavy breathing and shaking rendered it creepy. I couldn't stomach watching it anyways, I dry heaved into my trashcan. I wondered what was wrong with me. I guess it's no use to linger over it now. As I type this carcasses of oranges litter my trashcan, and an orange fruit with froot's face on it sits dissected like a frog in a metal tray on my desk. People keep asking me why I smell so citrusy, and I barely compose myself as I tell them I bought a new perfume. This is my life now. Please never repeat my mistake.
 
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