I got myself fired

Lately my life was disrupted and basically, everything I was doing was set to the wrong course.
As a result of my own dissatisfaction, I got myself fired.
I was fed up with the catcalling, bleak nicknames, the necessity to spice everything with a cute smile, others being rewarded based on my blueprints, taking a pressure over my personal relationships and similar stresses. That crap just had to come to the end.

Refusing to be a doorstep

What is this all about? Well, here it is. I worked very hard for a very long time, but for the wrong people and for a very low income. Even with my skills, it just didn't make it for me. It was not enough for me to be an average doorstep.
And I had enough with not being better, not being presentable, not being agreeable or not willing to voice my effort on my back. I would rather use my talent and a brain, but strolling my ass down that loser lane.
So, the last day I picked my papers and pencils and had a heated conversation with my now ex-boss. I couldn't care less. That junk of a job kept me away from the better opportunities for too long. I was glad to be out of it.

I JUST need to be ME - I don't need new shoes or a kiss

I tried to leave a few times ago, but Dillinger ( I call him like that because he is a bank robber, lol) was always around to smooth it up so I didn't leave. But, he is a little, spoiled diva with a wrong point of the view.
Not all of us need just love, just attention, just a new phone, or a fancy pair of shoes to be genuinely happy.
I already have 'rented indefinitely' bumper sticker on the back of my jeans and my car, and I couldn't care less what people may call it or not. It is my damn life. I need more than just an average shit of a job and to be considered 'lovable'.

Dillinger

The first thing that blew up in my face after I gloriously get myself fired was not my angry ex-boss or, luckily, my bank manager. It was Dillinger.
'How dare you do such a terrible act of treason!! Now tell me all about it!! Was he angry? What did he say? What did you say? What were you wearing? Did others hear it? What did they say?' -
'It is 4 in the morning'- I answered feeling literary trashed in pieces - 'Why the hell you call me at 4 AM. I sent you a message, bug off!'

Of course, I had to get up because he was no-do and I had to explain all the necessary details.

'Yes, it was a hot debate, he was wearing his worst version of himself, I walked away wearing my pride and his skin, no, the building was not hit by the meteorite after I left, no nobody performing black magic on me, you may take away garlic and a silver cross, I am safe, what else do you need to know....' -

Needless to say how Dillinger was, as an independent contractor, completely excited to hear I am going freestyle because he is all about it.

Till now I was a part of the 'enslaved masses' and now I am 'finally free'. Man, take a chill pill and sit down, you don't need to be so excited.

So, that morning, I took my allergy pills, headache pills, and literary every pill that was in the box - because that long exhausting conversation with Dillinger, really requires a handful of tranquilizers.

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First thing I had to answer numerous questions, about basic unimportant things and then he said he will come up with a basic stuff for me, let me just wait for a day. In his world, a day is a week.

Lyn's phone gets hacked

Next thing that morning I promised to talk to Lyn about my recent resignation, after all, she is my friend and she is extremely worried about what happened to me. That went well, but during the conversation, Lyn mentioned something about her phone acting out really weird.
Apparently, a phone called a few people on its own without her knowledge.

Wait a second, I thought, that thing should be working flawless, taking into consideration I have a shit-phone that worth absolutely nothing but works smooth and her phone is million times better.

I suggested that she should factory reset it, but she wasn't even paying attention. Apparently her music collection and a few ( hundred) images of kittens and puppies worth a fortune...
Girl, you have a keylogger somewhere inside, fry the damn thing and move on. You can always put the music back!
Aw, no, not an option.

Cleaning Lyn's phone

Anyways, Lyn needed 3 next seconds to get me annoyed so when I came home I simply logged into our account and fried all her devices with the factory reset.
Next day... Aw, girl, all my apps are gone, my phone reset on its own!!
No shit....
Of course, she instantly thought I hate her and that my recent 'menstrual attack' has nothing with the fact that she might have her phone spied on. No way.

Well, that's sorted out, all her devices are now connected to all kind of safety brouhahas, so from that part she is safe.

I don't know for what-fuck-reason I had to safeguard puppy piccies. Who-the-hell spies on such a thing? Obviously, somebody whose brain is dead...

I mentioned this to Dillinger, he was like - Aw, somebody is spying on your friend now? Tee-hee-he. Did he took any underwear this time, ha ha ha...

What a jerk...

Yes, it is Bob, again

Ok, so yesterday I finally started to redesign some of my online stuff and I was writing my ass off, really awesome low-quality stuff - entertainment, fantasy, and horoscopes - all the goodies everybody likes.
So, because I was that super productive, of course, Lyn just had to stop all that.
Because she had to ask what I am cooking for lunch...

Chili, but I ran out or onions, still, by some magic it still tasted awesome.
So back, so forth, and she says that her Facebook account just commented on something and it was not her who wrote it.

I was like... wait a second.... It is Bob again.

Who is Bob?

Bob is a moron who goes through other people underwear desperately hoping to find something filthy, even when there is not a damn thing there.

The last time he was tapping a cold line to some hotel room and now an eager owner wants to strangulate him. And that crazy arsonist is on fire.

Why is he doing that?

Well, of course, it is all about a girl. Helga. Of course. What else to expect from the primitive narrow-minded orangutang like Bob.

So, this is a situation in short.

Helga had this beef with Dillinger. He had the high expectations, she didn't meet them, the second shoe dropped- she is not very bright, he left her, she got crazy, went to Bob, sold him a story Dillinger is a Bambi slayer, dear Gods of Egypt, my bottom landed somewhere in the middle, Bob and Helga started making idiots of themselves, failed in every attempt, then they just routinely sucked with despise for a while and hated on anything that smelled like a French toast. Eventually, Helga chilled, saw Bob is not very much 'there' and walked away from the circus, so now Bob has no better thing to do but to kill himself working and wishing my mother burns in hell.

So, this is all Him ( of course)

In Bob's limited perspective, I am doing all that bull, because Dillinger tells me to do it - not because I just might ( maybe) writing a very steamed up poetry and trying to be artistic, which by the way, has nothing to do with Bob, neither is any of my writing.

Taking shit on my friends

For some damn reason Bob learned he can't take his shit on me, so now he is picking on my friends. And this is not the first time he done it because he blindly believes Dillinger is somewhere here, very near, in my friend list, just waiting to be discovered.

Get a life, paranoiac!

A person with my name gets toasted

Only a few months ago a person with the similar name, drop shipping address and a similar writing flare like me was bomb-shitted and launched out of an internet. His private posts and snaps seeded across the Universe in all their grisly rawness, and the whole situation imploded, exploded and covered all the walls from top to bottom.

A damn rapture!

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I guess it was a hell of a surprise when an asshole found out that it was actually not me.

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Cleaned the garbage

I told to Lyn what it is about and safeguarded her Facebook account. It seems that her Facebook was connected to an unknown smartphone, numerous applications, who knows what else... all this because some pathetic loser wants to score something and he has no bloody idea what to do, how to do it, nevertheless - a bare knowledge how much Dillinger laughs on all this.

Let's hope this is the last low, of all the lows that Bob already reached, because the only thing he can hope to see us talking about, is how stupid he is, attention seeking, desperate and obsessed.

Dillinger is nowhere near my friend list, shit list or any list, and Bob is literary breaking into the hen pen with nothing and nobody but the smoke and mirrors in it. The best thing is, it is not me who is going to clam down a bear trap on him. He is going to do it all by himself.