Put down your stupid fucking mocha-whipped-light-sugar what the fuck ever cup of shit coffee. Turn off your goddamn cellphone, you don't need to be using two devices at once. Hell, turn your shit music off. You stupid fuckers don't even know what good music is, it's all just auto-correct or auto-fill or something.
Pervy little shits.
Are you fucking listening to me now? I ain't repeating this shit twice. I fucked up. I updelivered the wrong note for you guys, and Marie had to come in and help me fix it, and it's not my goddamn fault. I'm never touching a fucking computer again. This is the real note though, she made sure of it.
The regular author Morgan—gives me the fucking creeps the way she keeps staring at Marie and me—is out sick this week. It's real fucking gross too. She's been coughing and snotting all over the damn place, and I ain't letting Marie go near her. So you fuckers will just have to wait another week before we can get on with the "story," my fucking life by the way. Therapeutic, my ass. I don't know who the fuck talked me into this talking about my feelings and life story bullshit. And why'd she have to put it all over the goddamn webbernet?!
Fucking humans. And that air-headed little creep. She says I have to tell you...she'll post the next chapter next Monday and she'll just tack it onto the end of my note so the chapter count stays down. You won't get a notification email about a new chapter, but it will be there, so deal with it. And she really appreciates your blah blah blah thanks for whatever and emotional chick stuff.
Wait—shit, I gotta go. Cubs are crying again. Fuck, you guys aren't that far ahead are you? Should not have said that. Shit. Shit. Shi-aldnx-ppp-how do you backtab?! Fuck it. I'm done.