I got two of those massive boxes of christmas chocolate with like 90 bars in them, + a box of Turtles caramel peanut chocolate bites, as well as my mum giving mer her 90 bar box since she can't eat chocolate.
What the fuck did you just fucking say about me, you little bitch? I’ll have you know I graduated top of my class in the Diabetic Seals, and I’ve been involved in numerous secret raids on my own pancreas, and I have over 300 confirmed comas. I am trained in glucose warfare and I’m the top tester in the entire US Diabetic forces. You are nothing to me but just another hypo. I will wipe you the fuck out with precision the likes of which has never been seen before on this Earth, mark my fucking words. You think you can get away with saying that shit to me over the Internet? Think again, fucker. As we speak I am contacting my secret network of insulin pumps across the UK and your pump is being traced right now so you better prepare for the storm, maggot. The storm that wipes out the pathetic little thing you call your ketones. You’re fucking dead, kid. I can be anywhere, anytime, and I can kill you in over seven hundred ways, and that’s just with my bare insulin pen. Not only am I extensively trained in innoculatory combat, but I have access to the entire arsenal of the United States Ketone Corps and I will use it to its full extent to wipe your miserable ass off the face of the continent, you little shit. If only you could have known what unholy retribution your little “clever” comment was about to bring down upon you, maybe you would have held your fucking tongue. But you couldn’t, you didn’t, and now you’re paying the price, you goddamn idiot. I will shit fury all over you and you will drown in it. You’re fucking dead, kiddo.
