Let's get something straight, my life is so important that you should be grateful I'm even doing this. Seriously, do you know another motherfucker like me? Me neither. So let's get down to brass, in the last book I told you that I was going to off myself after completing my life story. That still holds true. My trusty handgun is still loaded next to my Remington Rand typewriter that Hemingway pissed on, and you know the fucking bartender isn't going to cut me off, so I'm going to sit here and keep writing my memoirs until I finish. To answer your question, no, I haven't gotten up for bathroom breaks. I just piss on the floor.
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