021 - malcolm is a maudlin drunk.

[fuckitybye]

[Audio. Malcolm's Glaswegian accent has thickened considerably.]

What's the fucking point, yeah? Bein' a useless cunt out here in the fucking ... arse-end of the fucking universe, not a fucking friend in sight and your family gone and fucking ... superheroes and things'll rip your fucking throat out and ... this is supposed to help?

Fuck this cack-brained shit in the ear with a fucking screwdriver.

[Click. Audio off. He'll respond to anyone who feels like hassling him via journal, but some time later, anyone wandering up on deck will find Malcolm standing at the railing staring morosely off into the distance. In his left hand he clutches his useless Blackberry and this photograph. Feel free to come spam Malcolm and, if you dare, ask him about the photograph. Also, sorry for spamming with Malc posts this morning. Done now.]

Comments

I don't know where some of this comes from, tbh.

[fuckitybye]

Oh yeah? Then I'm sucking on your mummy's TIT, Simon In the Land of Chalk Drawings. Since I reckon you never fucking STOPPED.

Christ almighty, you are a fucking AMATEUR.

It's glorious. I love it :c

[my-freeze-ray.livejournal.com]

Dude, way too much information about your private life right there. Oedipal Complex much?

[fuckitybye]

[Triumphant cackle of short-lived glee.]

And that's why you're a fucking AMATEUR, Bod. You got to be willing to GO THERE. It's the only way to shut the other cunt up.