Don’t name your dog anything you can’t yell without losing any and all dignity you may have had. My neighbors named their dog Scooby Doo, and I don’t know if you’ve ever heard anyone repeatedly and angrily scream the words “scooby doo” unless you spend enough time walking around late-night bus stops in Chicago, but it’s not flattering, to say the least.
I hate the feeling of dread. I hate dread with or without the conjoined feeling. Dread is absolutely never a positive thing. Fear can save your life. Dread never will. Dread is a bit of a dick like that. Then there’s irrational dread. Just rational enough to stick around in the bottom of the pot. Especially since that cunt never cleans them. Were I a betting man, I’d bet that dread never occurs for her. Forks can almost always be used in place of knives and if they can’t then it’s probably not worth eating whatever that is — unless you’re absolutely starving. Hey. You’re not clairvoyant. Why’re you so Goddamn convinced of it.
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