Here's a short excerpt:
Open the bag, filter through a bunch of crap only fat people carry around, grab the canister.
It’s Sonic Boots, a self protection device falling under the clichéd category of things in Ziomii’s bag. It’s a battery-powered, air-driven ass-kicking in a bottle, and it displaces enough atmosphere to put a hundred-kilo assailant through a brick wall.
The locker door pushes in, crimps together at the corners, and disintegrates. It’s there, and then it isn’t Emelie swipes her stuff, dumps it all in her own bag, and sprints back through the WORKING GIRLS ONLY door, making a straight path through the mutinous crowd and the parking lot.
I wrote the book in American because it makes it easier for people to understand. It's too difficult for Americans to understand European English, and yet it seems fine the other way around. Just one more reason why I hate living here in this god-awful country of fat fucks and uneducated heathens. In fact, America is just about the last place I would choose to live, short of Vietnam, anywhere in Asia, or Siberia. Actually, take that back: Siberia would be just fine with me. I hate summer and I love winter and the cold and the snow and the ice and snuggling under some heavy blankets naked. Yeah: fuck winter. Fuck it fuck it
fuck it
WHATEVER.
I still want to kill myself, but at least now I'm going to at least wait until I've put this book in a state ready for reading.
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