He had a stack of dimes for a d*** that he kept hidden from his young tormentors. She c***ped her pants and when it started to stink they laughed her up a railing high above the river. A g****** beige curse. She couldn't imagine worse. She once was known for her art. Not anymore. His mom caught him jerking when she got home from work and it drove him to stick needles in his arm. She gave one b****** in the back of a van and the clap quickly spread across her lips. Oh f***! There's a f****** curse! She couldn't imagine worse. They thought she was such a nice kid. Not anymore. A b**py road for thimbledicks and p***-less dweebs. You with the natural perm! The brown-toothed the bald-spotted bottle-glassed puds (f****** Halfhead). b****acked spazzed with limp handshakes, zit cream ordered by mail. No-b***ed girls, man-b***ed boys. His mom picks his clothes and SHE smells like pee. These are the mean streets. Don't kill yourself. Adulthood's worse. Don't kill yourself at all. Yet.