Monday, October 31, 2011

Pooooopies!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!1!!!!!!!!!!!!1!

Hey, guys. It's Willie the Aspie here, and I've got some crazy news about Poppy. Apparently she's gotten bitten by something or other, and I'm not talking about genital crabs or anything like that. I don't think she's caught my Ass Burgers, as she'd say. Well, maybe she has. She sure likes to get in there a lot. I don't rightly know what's gotten into that crazy girl, but she's been even more shit obsessed than she usually is. The whole thing started a couple of days ago. Since I help her with posting her tard stories, it hasn't really been obvious that she's been out sick. She thinks I have some kinda special connection to retarded people for some reason. But whatever.

She came home on Friday with a bite mark on her hand. I've never known Poppy to be much of a fighter, 'cause she's not violent if it doesn't involve defending her corn or fisting a shit hole. I helped her bandage her wound and put some honey on it for disinfection purposes. Normally I wouldn't have gone all out like that, but with her shit fetish there's a lot of infections she can get. The funny thing is, the bite was starting to get all rotty and nasty, even though she insisted it was pretty fresh. I asked her whose ass didn't agree with her, and Poppy told me it was a mouth, as sure as we were breathing.

The next day the poor girl came downstairs looking like hell and not feeling much better. I asked her if she wanted anything to eat, expecting her usual retort of screaming "Poopies!" Oddly enough, she was so sick she actually ate regular people food, like cereal and stuff. Of course, by that point keeping down anything was a miracle for her. I suggested she call in, and she went back to bed. I was visiting because I had to take care of dad. He's come down with something, too.

I got over to the house on Sunday, and all I can say is "holyshitohmygodpleasesaveme." That ain't too eloquent, but I was never a poet. I've got Poppy's laptop right now, and I'm sitting out on the roof outside her window. She's beatin' on the glass like she wants to break it, and she and dad are all moaning like a pair of pornstars. They just keep moaning "Poopiiiiiiiieeeeeees," and I ain't going back in that house until she takes her fist elsewhere. She's never been that insistent, and she's succeeded in scaring the shit out of me. But no matter how much I throw in the window, she just wants more. I'm empty, people. There are a lot of people gathering around the house putting up the same chant. I hope I can survive this night of the poopy dead.

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