‘Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December;
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.’
– The Raven,
Edgar Allan Poe
Beg, Beg, Beg
The way I heard it, the nignogs just let themselves in.
Eric was sat there watching Songs of fucking Praise, back to the door, and head nigger walks up behind him, pulls his hair back, and slits him ear to ear. Then they make themselves a sandwich, take a shit, and wait for his wife to come home -
Just like that.