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[THERE ARE NO FUCKING TIMES OF THE DAY WHEN THE FUCKER ISN'T SHRARKING!]
[I've never wished ill will on an animal, as we all know I like animals more than I do people, but I am thisclose to making an exception and wishing the finest, most fantastic ill I can muster. My ears, they are raw and bloody. The part of my brain responsible for hate and rage is about to throbbing, hot, about to overheat. My hair is frizzy, my eyes are wild and staring, transfixed and unfocused on something in the distance. A bit of spittle has gathered in the corner of my dry, chapped mouth. Oops, there's a knock on my door. They're here with my jacket.]
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*”Shrarking”: Shrieking and Barking. I can think of no word in any human language that can possibly capture this ear-hating sound.
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