I got this idea from another thread-Everybody is always moaning about things on here. I know life is hard now and again but the levels of depression shown on here make me despair. Life isn't all that bad. it can even be quite good sometimes. Anyway, this thread is a chance to pretend that you've really got it bad, so bad that starving children in Africa want to organise a concert and send you one of their old tracksuits. The idea is to try and out do the post before with your fake tale of woe. I'll go first;
My parents hate me so much. So very much and I don't know why. Oh, and I've also got the AID's. The two issues are related actually. My mum gave me the AID's. Not from birth or from kissing a cut better or any other conventional method of transferring the disease. No, she actually gave it to me. In my lunchbox to take to school one morning. So whilst all the other kids were chowing down on sandwiches full of ham and dairylea goodness, all I had poked between two bits of stale bread was the AID's virus. And I had to eat it too! I had no choice! The dinner ladies at my primary were very strict and you weren't allowed out to play until you had finished everything in your mother had lovingly prepared. So I had to eat after last crumb of AID's before I could go out and play kiss chase. Only no one wanted to play kiss chase with me after that because my mum told everyone i had AID's. Well she didn't so much as tell them, but she had "PAULS GOT AIDs" etched on my 5th birthday cake, so they all saw it when I blew out my candles at my party. For that same birthday I asked for a scaletrix set. I never thought I'd get it but, to my suprise, when I came down the stairs to accept my daily fatherly beating it was sitting there on the living room floor with my smiling parents huddled around it, with a controller in hand. "Things are looking up!" I thought. Right up until they sellotaped my tiny genitals to the track and rammed scaled down Formula 1 cars into my pre-pubescent cock for the whole, whilst laughing and spitting cherry stones at me. And I'd love a trip to Africa! I never get to go anywhere nice on holiday. One rainy summers day, I was stood by the patio window looking out at the rain when my father came up and quietly said to me; "Paulie, would you like to go somewhere hot for a couple of weeks?"
"Would I!" I gleefully replied.
"OK then" he said, before locking me up in the airing cupboard for a fortnight.
But I love em. They make me or i get a whipping.