Fuck

Censorship Books teach us about life, morals, and the values we need to have to live a good life. Censors have been trying to ban books since 387 BC. Books are typically banned for use of inappropriate language and content. Many libraries and schools have banned this book from being placed in the libraries and for students to read this book. Many people had felt that Catcher in the Rye was “dangerous” because it had violence, sexual content, and vulgarity. A lot of books have good life lessons…

lighter and some old pictures of us, taken almost two decades before. I flicked through the wad of other photos wet from the ground that captured us grow old. I gasped for air through thick tears as I held some of our first camping trip and our wedding. Fuck, we looked so happy. She looked so happy. I drink so much whiskey I puke. Only after I’d burnt all the photos, the love letters from our teenage courting, even the will leaving her everything that was mine, was I able to stop grinding my…

You gotta get out, I told her. What? Leave. Get out. Fuck you, she said. Spit came out of her mouth and landed on her chin. She leaned in before she opened the door. You’re just like him. You’re shit. You’re both shit. Something moved inside my stomach as I watched Meg walk back into the bar. It felt like a slimy worm was trying to make a home right there above my bladder. I put my clothes back on, except for my jeans, and drove home trying to forget about what Meg had said and that ugly…

as I pursue the beast deeper into the woods, the dark creature only paces away from me. I scramble for my gun, shouting for my sister Jane to back me up as he dashes deeper into the trees. "Jane, hurry the fuck up!" I hiss, skidding to a halt to aim my gun at the creature, "I'm taking the—fuck!" With a loud gasp, I'm thrown into the bushes by a large beast. It growls, spitting slobber on my face. Its red eyes glow with anger, mad that I would dare try to hunt one of its own pack members.…

shrugged. “Stop when you see the dog,” he stated as logically as he had just solved a complex calculus problem in pen. I slammed on the brakes, let go of the wheel, and turned so I was looking straight at him. “The dog.” He nodded. “The dog is way the fuck back there!!” I screamed like a spoiled child, one hand pointing towards the back of the car for…

the shadows behind them. “I honestly didn’t believe it, Sara. When you partner insisted you were dirty, I still couldn’t see it.” Glancing behind her, she saw her sector chief from the FBI with a pistol trained on them. Standing at his side was her fuck up of an ex-partner grinning like a mad fool. Sara didn’t bother to lift her hands but she did speak. “It’s not what you’re thinking it is.” “That’s what all criminals say.” Miss Maddie tapped her cigarette lighter on the table top twice and…

Thoughts about the Prom. Thoughts about school. Thoughts about the future. Thoughts about Sylvester and his unrelenting crush on Theodore. Too many thoughts that clung to his mind, and all Lewis wanted to do was rip his hair out. "You with me, Lewis?" Lewis tried out a few blinks before realizing Sylvester was staring at him with concern. With his eyes closed and a lazy smile on his face, Lewis gave a soft hum and nod. Double reassurance never failed. Whether Sylvester believed him or not, Lewis…

Murder”. I clicked the link and his old mug shot appeared on the screen. It was him alright - a picture from a previous arrest for a D.U.I., his face swollen - the eyes bloodshot. A shit eating grin that said ‘I’ve been here before and I’ll do it again. Fuck you, these walls won’t hold me.’ He’d bailed out receiving a fine and substance abuse classes. This time was different. Attempted murder put you in a new class of criminal. He was on the run and I knew where he was headed. I called around…

social media are challenging conventional ideas about news. Intro: What are the conventional ideas? Who believes in these ideas? Is there someone who disagrees with the good effects of social media in relation of news spreading? Yes, and they are wrong. Fuck you, John Symes, you could have at least given me some sources of your wrong ideas. In this essay I’m going to talk about why I hate you: The shift in the relationship between journalists and their audience is the most clear indication of a…

foot stuck up their arse twenty-four seven.’ I said in rage. ‘They are better than your family who are bunch of sadist and chauvinistic pigs! Always drunk and on the dole. You better be careful Ben because in five years you’ll be just like those lazy fucks. Hell, you’re showing signs of it now: coming to work hungover, sleeping on the job, not doing any work and lack of interest in anything regarding work. But oh wait, who has to pick up all the pieces? ME! You complain about how I don’t pay you…