Fuck, he thought, then shit. Also he thought the word cunt. Because he could think whatever he wanted, and what he wanted to think about was swears.
He woke up ambiguously. “Hmm,” he seemed to say as he looked warily around him. Time for another day of swords or drugs or making business, whatever his job was.
He lit seventeen cigarettes, because who the fuck cared. “I’m a man,” he announced to the room. “I’m a goddamn man and sometimes I have to make the tough decisions that no one asked me to make and my jaw looks like a shovel and I have an important job, so fuck you,” just in case someone was listening.
ah… we must’ve taken creative writing together. yep, i’m sure we did.