At the risk of my own neck, I am posting an excerpt from my Minnie Mouse diary of yesteryear in which I fantasize wildly about slaying my gym teacher.
May 21, 1995
Crap, shit, fuck, ass, bitch, bloody, hell, poop, brain infected, butt sniffing, bubble butt, fart factory, BLIP! I hate school! I wish Mr. ***** would spontaneously combust and get electrocuted by the devil! I wish he would go through the worst agony ever! I hope he was killed by the Unabomber! I'm not sorry at all. He hurt me, and now I want him to die in pain and go to hell, and take ***** with him! I wish he'd drop dead, and I hope he's having a heart attack! I want him to get beaten up and tortured till he dies! I hope I never see him again! I'd like him to retch the rest of his life! I wanna kill 'im! I hope right now, there is a dagger in his throat! I hope he dies right now! I hope he is burned up and the ashes are destroyed! I hope he has A-bombs exploding in his house now! I hope his family escapes but he is trapped! I hope no one gives him the least bit of mercy! I want him to be whipped and cut up and made into man stew by Friday and Robinson [Crusoe]! I hope his funeral is cancelled, and people make fun of his tombstone & he breaks every bone in his burning body! I hope he's dead already! I laugh at his death!!
I HATE HIM!
DROP DEAD, MISTER POOPHEAD!
Merry Christmas everyone!