Fuck This House

  • A/N: Very politically-incorrect, racist against Chinese

    Peter didn't get so much as a breath in before I said, "No! What's up with you?!" as I walked in the door.

    He blinked at me before he answered, "Nothing."

    "Nothing?!" I asked him. "You're so boring. When you ask me, I have two essays worth of stories to tell you. But when I ask you, it's nothing. You're so boring. You're the most boring person I've ever met! Ugh!"

    "Oh all right, fine!!!! I spoke to Kendrick this morning before she went to work and talked about alcohol, drugs, and anything remotely against the system. Then I listened to Rage Against the Machine for a couple of hours while drinking my very-much spiked coffee. Oh, and I decided to *not* publish Artie Wonderbloom and the Red Dragons because fuck every publishing agency being taken over the Chinese. Now who's boring?" Peter asked.

    "... Not me. The parking lot fucking disappeared on Tuesday, and my car went to another dimension. Joebear and I had to find our vehicles so that we could drive to exist. Mr. Thor returned to Athens, GA from New York and scheduled an emergency meeting tomorrow that everyone who even has any goat DNA has to attend. He said it was super beyond important," I said.

    Mr. Thor had a top-secret meeting to attend that only members that were rank 20 or higher attended. Murphee and Gabby were both rank 20 and higher. (In other news, Gabby is rank 21.)

    "Oh fuck not again. The last time we went, my dog was inducted, and a few weeks later, THE CHINESE SHADOW GOVERNMENT FUCKING POISONED HIM!!!!" Peter was now screaming at the top of his lungs.

    "PETER!!!" Jamie screamed through the door of his side of the house.

    "PETER! YOUR FATHER NEEDS YOU!!!!" Godiva also screamed.

    "Yes, DAD! I'M COMING!!!" Peter said as he jumped up out of his seat and began his string of muttered swear words. Ever since Tug passed away, Peter has hated everything even more than usual.

    I followed Peter to his parents' side of the house because I had nothing else better to do.

    "Xara, can you vacuum the living room and our bedroom? We have company coming over," Godiva said.

    "Yes. You always have company," I said.

    Godiva went to fold the towels on her kitchen table. Jamie and Peter went to prepare for the guests to show up.

    I went to vacuum. Everything was going peacefully until I heard a loud "FUCKKKK!!!" from Peter over the loud sound of the vacuum cleaner. I turned off the vacuum cleaner and chuckled.

    "WHAT KIND OF IGNORANT BULLSHIT IS THIS TODAY!!!!" Peter yelled.

    I went to laugh before my phone alerted me of a text from Mr. Thor.

    "Has Peter been alerted of the important meeting tomorrow?" Mr. Thor's text message said.

    I texted back, "Yes. And he is pissed."

    I turned on the vacuum cleaner to finish up all while hearing Peter scream at the top of his lungs.

    "EVERY TIME I HAVE A FUCKING DAY OFF SOMETHING GOES WRONG IN THIS FUCKING HOUSE!!!!" Peter screamed.

    I about doubled over the vacuum cleaner and laughed my ass off.

    "HOW THE FUCK AM I SUPPOSED TO FIGHT THE SYSTEM WHEN I'M CONSTANTLY TRYING TO SAVE THIS HOUSE FROM BLOWING UP??!!! I DON'T GIVE A-" Peter continued his rant tantrum.

    When I finished vacuuming, I rolled on the floor and laughed before my phone alerted me again.

    "He's pissed?! I'm the one who has to lead an organization that the Chinese is taking over! Tell him to grow a pair and show up!!!!!11111" Mr. Thor texted.

    I texted back, "What the fuck is going on?!!!!"

    "FUCK THIS HOUSE!!! FUCK THE CHINESE!!! FUCK- OH HI JAMES! HOW ARE YOU?!" Peter screamed.

    I went to continue cleaning up after the Parkers. A plump man with white short hair entered the house and was speaking with Jamie. "How are you holding up?"

    Jamie had a giant smile on his face. "Oh man. I'm sick, but it's interesting. Peter makes me laugh. Every day he has a tantrum about something," he said as he was laughing wholeheartedly.

    "That's why Dad decided on this place... so that he could watch me suffer even more with house repairs. The last house was bad enough and now this bullshit," Peter said as he went to his side of the house.

    I chuckled at that remark and made myself present.

    "Oh hey little lady. You should clean my house," James said with a chuckle.

    "Sure. Where do you live?" I asked. I always was in need of more business.

    "Texas," he answered with a guffaw.

    "Sorry. I can't travel THAT far," I said as I continued to clean.

    Mr. Thor texted me again, "I'm not a liberty to discuss over a non-secure line. You'll find out at the meeting."

    I sighed. It was serious business if Mr. Thor couldn't text it. That man would text about everything and anything that was important in his life.

    I finally made it over to Peter's side of the house and saw him trying to upload trolly memes of Donald Trump being anally raped by Kim Jong Yun and Vladimir Putin to 4-chan, SuperCopingMan.com, PeterAwkward8Wixsite.com, and to his E-mail.

    "Peter, have you joined the side of the Truthists?" I asked.

    Peter cleared his throat. "Yes. I'm an converted conspiracy theorist who wants revenge on the Chinese for poisoning my dog. He meant the world to me! The Chinese destroyed everything I was, am, and would have been. Fuck the Chinese... I hate everyone."

    "I am proud and sorry for your pain at the same time. My writing sucks without Tug," I said.

    "YES!!! Your stories are more bat shit AWFUL than usual. Jesus. When I read your stories now, it makes me WANT TO THROW UP!!!" Peter said as he E-mailed memes of hatred toward Republicans, memes describing white supremacy, and his own scat porn to all literary agents on his database.

    "Fuck you, Peter. You're an airhead," I said as I kicked his shin before cleaning up his office.

    "Fuck you, Xara. You insult any form of storytelling and communication with your.... BULLSHIT WRITING!!!!" Peter yelled.

    "The English language is bullshit, Peter. And all of your literary agencies are being taken over by China," I said.

    Peter slammed his fist in the indentation in his desk. "Don't remind me! Those yellow-skinned, slanted-eye pug-nosed fuckers are taking over everything. Fuck you, I'm not publishing my fourth novel. They can suck my ass, kiss my ass, and stick big bulky anal beads in my fuckin' hairy ass!!!" he yelled.

    I cracked up and did abdomen exercises at the same time. I was almost crying. "I told you authoring was bullshit. You'd be feeding the system," I said.

    Peter sneered and mocked me with a childish voice. "Hehehehe you're right! I'm wrong. I was brainwashed by the fundamentalist Christians and the Republicans and the American dream SLASH NIGHTMARE!!! How dare I feed a system that is self-serving and doesn't give a FUCK ABOUT ME!!!" He stood up and gave his computer monitor the double bird. Then, he stared at the webcam at the top of his monitor before sneering at it. "Fuck you! I know you're watching me. You can hear everything I'm fuckin' saying. You killed my dog, you fuckers. I know you're in there!!!"

    I patted Peter on the shoulder while cracking an amused smile. I felt his pain. I also missed Tug.

    I heard Jamie and James talk about the intracacies of drywalling and the Republican party. They even talked about pagan Christianity.

    Peter grimaced at the door leading to his parents' side of the house. "And the pagan Christianity... definitely has brainwashed me to the point of no return. It's the biggest lie ever told. Dad and my cousin, James talk about it as though it were true... They're so deluded, stuck in their old ways... I'm offended that they are here. They talk about drywall as though it weren't the one thing I detest even more than the Chinese... drywall has ruined my life," he said as he stared darkly at that damn door. I could have sworn he would have burned a hole in it with his green eyes that had puffy red circles around them.

    "Be honest, Peter. Do you always want everyone to go away?" I asked as I patted his other shoulder.

    "YES!!! Except Kendrick. She can stay when she's here," Peter answered.

    "Even me, right?" I asked with a chuckle.

    "On occasion. Especially when you mock my existence," he said with a snarl.

    "That's usually what I do. Can't help it. You're better at everything than I am," I said.

    "Untrue. You are better at discernment, being female, AND BEING EXTREMELY ANNOYING TO THE POINT WHERE ANY SANE MAN WOULD BE DRIVEN TO THE BRINK OF ABSOLUTE INSANITY," Peter said as he threw his hands in the air and sat at his computer desk.

    "I'm even a better troll than you are," I said.

    "Yes, but that will not be true for long. 4chan will be destroyed by the time I'm done. I'll even upload my fourth novel to a Chinese server. Stupid black-haired straw-headed pieces of shit. They have no regard for life," Peter said with a deviant grin as he uploaded his fourth novel to a bunch of foreign servers. "Be mentally scarred and die, Internet citizens!!!!" Peter threw in an evil laugh.

    "Peter Parker! Can you show me the issue with your gutter?!" James called.

    "Goddammit," Peter muttered before he rose and spoke in his normal loud voice, "YES!!!" Then he left.

    I then took it upon myself to rearrange his office yet again because fuck him. I admire his passion for rage, but that curly-haired bastard will never be a better troll than I am... even if he does upload to foreign servers instead of giving his work to literary agencies that are ultimately owned by the Chinese.

    What the elite doesn't want you to know is that China has already taken over some of the United States. It owns the Great Lakes, Alabama, and Mississippi. It owns our debt and bought us out. It has our real estate that we can't afford. It even owns our copyrights and patents now. That's why Peter vows to never publish another work again. And I stand behind that decision. Let this country and the expression of the American English language fall on its fucking knees!!!

    "WHAT?! The gutter is BENT! HOW?!!! Did the Chinese put a bomb in it Jesus Christ!!!!" Peter yelled outside.

    I looked up to see Peter using dramatic hand gestures toward the gutters.

    "OH MY GOD THE FUCKING ROOF IS ROTTED!!!! COULDN'T WE FUCKING PAY SOMEONE...." Peter continued. ".... WHERE THE FUCK AM I GOING TO FIND A DRYWALL BUCKET?!!! THEY DON'T FUCKING-" Peter was jumping up and down.

    I was rolling on the floor again. Peter stomped away and entered the house. He went straight for an end table and kicked the leg of it as hard as he could. As a result, he kicked over the table and broke a lamp in the process. I was crying laughing.

    "Fuck this house! Fuck this house! I hated this goddamn place the fucking second I moved here!" Peter said before throwing the ceiling fan that was already on the floor across the room. "James is unreal! He wants me to fix the gutter. I don't know about gutters. I don't CARE about gutters. I'm a drywall guy AND I HATE THAT. I just want to mentally scar children and the Chinese. Why the fuck do I have to all these house repairs?"

    I was doubled over and couldn't breathe.

    Peter stared into space before he muttered, "Goddammit. I don't want to do this shit. No, James, I can't find a drywall bucket. We don't fucking use buckets anymore. Now we use goddamn boxes. We use boxes. Apparently, James doesn't understand that. Why can't I use a normal bucket?! WHY DOES IT HAVE TO BE A DRYWALL BUCKET?!" Peter was starting to foam at the mouth.

    "Am I the only person you tell how you feel?" I asked as I looked at him.

    "Since Tug died, yes. My parents no longer give a damn about how I feel. James and Paul are clueless. They, like the Chinese, conspire against me at all times," Peter answered.

    "Peter! Have you called Paul to ask about those buckets yet?" Jamie called.

    "No. Not yet. Dad, we use boxes now. Did the concept escape James?" Peter yelled through the door.

    "Well, Paul may have some. You never know," Jamie said. "Give him my regards! Call him now!!!"

    Peter kicked the lamp that was on the floor and broke it into tiny pieces. "All right, Dad!" He went to get his cell phone to call Paul. For the sheer purpose of our entertainment, he put the phone on speaker.

    "Hello, Peter. How are you?" Paul asked in a cheerful voice.

    Peter made a growling noise. "Do you happen to have any drywall buckets on you?" he asked.

    "No. Dude, are you retarded? We use boxes now. We've used boxes for like two years. What the fuck?" Paul asked.

    "No, Paul. *I'm* not retarded. My IQ is 115. Fuck you. I was asking because my dad and JAMES wanted to know. I fucking told them we use boxes," Peter said as he glared at his phone. "My Dad says hello."

    "Well, sorry. Why the hell would you need a drywall bucket?" Paul asked. "Tell your dad I say hi."

    "Because my gutter has a bunch of shit in it, is bent to fuck and back, AND MIGHT HAVE A BOMB THE CHINESE PLANTED THERE!!!" Peter yelled.

    "Oh for fuck's sake, not the Chinese again. We might have outsourced our buckets to China. Fucking call them and ask," Paul said.

    Peter sneered at the phone. "The only thing I want from the Chinese is spilled blood! Fuck on their buckets! I'll just leave the gutter trash on the ground I don't give a fuck!" Peter said harshly.

    "Neither do I," Paul said with a laugh.

    "Thanks anyway," Peter said with a fakeass smile.

    "Haha. You're welcome. See you at work tomorrow," Paul said.

    "No you won't. I have an important meeting to attend tomorrow," Peter said.

    "Oh God. The Goat Boyscouts. Jesus Christ, Peter. Why are they so damn important?" Paul asked.

    "Because they are the ones who really determine the direction of our society, politics, and even religious values!" Peter answered with dignity.

    "Oh Lord. Fine. See you next Wednesday," Paul said with a sigh.

    Peter sighed before he said, "See you next Wednesday."

    I sighed.

    They both hung up. Peter went to a spot on his drywall and kicked it repeatedly with his right foot for 16 seconds.

    "Did he have the buckets?" Jamie called through the door.

    "No DAD! He outsourced them to the Chinese!!!" Peter yelled. "He gives his regards!!!"

    "Thank you. Fuck it. Just use a 33-gallon trash bag and be done with it. The hell with the Chinese," Jamie said.

    Peter had had enough. He decided to turn on the video camera on his phone and start recording. "Fuck this house," he started to say as he was waving his phone around and showing the camera his office with the hole in the wall, ceiling fan blades sticking out of the walls, a ceiling fan tossed across the room, and the table that was knocked over with the broken lamp beside it.

    He continued his video with a laugh. "Hey how are you this is Peter W. Parker not to be confused with Spiderman Peter Parker. And welcome to Fuck This House. That's right! Fuck this house. There's so much bullshit in this house. Too much fucking work. Everything's work. Been like that since I fuckin' moved here."

    Peter walked outside and showed the camera his mother's extensive toilet garden. "You see this toilet garden. It's a monstrosity! It's an eye sore. It stares at me every fucking day! I hate it. I want to break every one of these goddamn toilets again and again until they don't have the NERVE to come back!!!"

    I followed him to the backyard.

    "And this goddamn backyard. More toilets. Grass grass grass everywhere. I'm allergic to grass. Fuck grass. I hate this green shit! I'm not fuckin' mowing it." Peter continued to rant before he threw his neck in the direction of the grass. "Fuck you, you green pieces of shit!!!"

    I tried not to laugh in the background as he was filming.

    "And another thing, my parents got a hot tub in the backyard. WHY?! They never use the goddamn thing!!! They used it once since we got it a month ago. It's a lot of work. Why?! I don't fucking use it because I hate being outside! I'm allergic to the goddamn water. GUESS WHO HAS TO CLEAN IT?! I DOOOOOO!!!!" Peter sung the "I DOOOOOO!!!!" part.

    I chuckled and covered my mouth.

    "It uses up the goddamn electricity, and they complain about the light bill. Jesus Christ my parents are illogical!!!!"

    I shook my head and laughed for a second before stopping.

    Peter sighed. "Then there's the bills! Jeez. Utility bills go up. Gotta pay property tax! Gotta deal with the Housekeeping Association," he said as he pointed the camera to me.

    I waved. "Hi. I'm an extra bill you have to pay every month JUST SO YOU CAN CONTINUE TO EXIST IN YOUR HOUSE," I said enthusiastically.

    "Oh fuck you!" Peter said before he moved the camera away from me and continued to show the house. "Haha. It's ridiculous. Let me show you the inside. I'm not ready to deal with my obliterated duct hose and beyond-fucked gutter yet."

    I followed him into the house. I felt every urge to laugh at him.

    "Here's my parents' side of the house. Very relaxing. Very presentable! Very pretty. As you can see, there's a lot of woodwork, crown moulding, my parents have very nice taste... If a termite came in here, he would have an erection in two seconds. In fact, that's what happened at our last house. A termite had an erection and ate my house. Mother fucker," Peter ranted as his face was contorting into several expressions of rage and disgust.

    I chuckled again.

    "As you can see, my parents have two skylights that THEY MAKE ME CLEAN BECAUSE OF THE BIRD SHIT AND THE TREE SAP... they hate me," Peter said with a defeated expression on his face.

    I took a deep breath and ignored my phone's notification sound.

    "I even FELL OFF THE GODDAMN ROOF AND THIS BITCH AND MY MOTHER'S VENUS FLYTRAP LAUGHED AT ME!!!" Peter said as he pointed the camera at me again.

    I at this point started laughing to the fullest extent. He flicked me off in front of the camera.

    "I was blowing leaves like a jackass. Fell off the fucking roof onto the wet muddy ground, and this bitch just continued to laugh at me," Peter continued.

    I was laughing, falling on the ground, and beating the floor with my fist. He was filming me.

    "I was screaming in pain. But they were laughing. Everything I do is a fucking joke!" Peter said loudly.

    I was snickering, lying on my back, kicking my heels, and clutching my stomach. Schadenfreude was real.

    He pointed the camera to the woodburning stove his parents had in the corner. "Anyway, onto my parents' woodburning stove. Very nice, but I have to clean the thing. No one else cleans it so I have to clean it! I-I-I gotta get the brushes. Clean this shit out!!! All the fucking time because the creole builds up and it could cause a fire. Sigh. I gotta go on the roof again. I gotta live on the roof. Brush out the shit!" Peter was making dramatic faces at the camera.

    He took a deep breath before continuing to rant. "Assemble the brush, go down the chimney, be Santa Claus!!!!" He was imitating using the brush with the hand that wasn't holding the phone camera. "I look like I'm jacking off or something Jesus Christ!!! It's a lot of work! Everything is work! It's nice it's nice but it's a lot of work!" Peter sounded like Smeagull from Lord of the Rings when he said "but it's a lot of work!"

    I laughed again.

    "MONEY AND LABOR AND BLOOD AND SWEAT AND TEARS AND AGGRAVATION AND STRESS AND IRRITATION!" Peter screamed into the camera.

    I laughed and wondered how the fuck this guy didn't have laryngitis from all the yelling he was doing that day.

    "Wanna see my parents' kitchen?!" Peter asked with a smile as he showed the camera his parents' kitchen. "Here's where we eat... when we actually DO eat. It's rare that I eat with my parents I have to work most of the goddamn time anyway. Ha! Ha! And my mom wants to redo the kitchen! Why?! I'm trying to fix the God-forsaken gutter outside! I-I can't win! It's-It's-It's always something!!!! You go from one project to another, especially in my goddamn house. This is my life when I'm not at work. I get to fuck around with this fucking place! I want to kick something right now!" Peter spoke loudly.

    I really cracked up then.

    "FUCK THIS HOUSE! REALLY!!!!" Peter screamed into the phone with eyes that couldn't get any wider if they tried. "I'd rather live in a cardboard box somewhere out in the middle of Atlanta!!! I hate the system! I don't want to pay into it, ANYMORE!!!! I don't give a shit! Give me a cardboard box and a glass of water and I'm happy!"

    I was crying as I was laughing.

    "Let's go in here! Let's go in here!" Peter screamed into the phone. I could tell Peter was having yet another daily mental breakdown. "Let's go in my part of the house where I broke all my ceiling fans and have blades coming out every which way because I was an ape!!!"

    I was losing my voice from laughing at this deranged gentleman.

    "You see this shit?! I hate this shit. I'm 7'4" and I get whacked by my fucking ceiling every goddamn day. I have to look at this bullshit every single day. I hate it. We just recently replaced my toilet because it somehow broke. Low flow bullshit toilet. Gotta flush the thing two times to get even a piece of toilet paper down. Low flow toilets don't save water. That's another bullshit lie they tell you. The water company saves money. You have to pay to fix the flusher from overuse. The PLUMBERS MAKE MONEY!!!! The Chinese invented these toilets. Again, fuck them. There is no water shortage anywhere. That's another bullshit lie they tell you so that they can charge more for your water bill. It's all bullshit," Peter continued to rant.

    I was perpetually chuckling and agreeing with what he was saying.

    "We had to go to three home depots to fix the several issues this piece of shit house has and has had since the nightmarish day I fucking moved here. And we all know what Home Depot is like. Let me get into that!!! My parents spent $15,000 on this furniture, repairs, and services. Jesus. My parents bought more furniture from Ikea. GUESS WHO HAD TO PUT IT TOGETHER?!" Peter said with a dramatic hand gesture. "MEEEEEEEE!!!!" Peter was singing through his big smile.

    I was snickering hardcore in the background.

    "Oh, and when I found my desk in Grayson, I kidnapped an old woman and made her refurbish it..." Peter explained before showing the camera the indentation of where he slams his fist on said desk every single solitary fucking morning, afternoon, and evening. "Only for me to do this to it." He laughed before he grinned at the camera. "I gave her $2, and of course I spill coffee all over it every chance I can."

    Peter is a funny, mental mess. I couldn't help but continually chuckle.

    "It's a nice desk, but it's a lot of work. A lot of time. I have a regular fireplace," he said as he showed the camera his normal fireplace. "But when you aren't using it. You have to make sure it's closed or a squirrel will come in like Christmas vacation."

    "It's true. He was one of my brethren who came to troll you that day, Peter," I said.

    "Oh God. Yes. You were a squirrel in your previous life. Jesus," Peter said. "I had to throw him outside." Peter showed the camera the front of the house. "Sigh. More toilets. More grass. Ughhhhh!!! It just never ends!!! It's work! You never have a day to yourself. Every day my parents want me to do something just to keep up with the house!!!!! And I say YOU KNOW WHAT FUCK THIS HOUSE!!! FUCK THIS HOUSE!!! I can't take-YOU KNOW WHAT?!!! My parents are doing whatever! They need a yard person that's why I say fuck this house!!!! I'm leaving right now. Let them deal with it. I don't give a shit. They don't even thank me. Unappreciative old fucks. I hate them. I hate this house. I hate the Chinese."

    Peter walked out of his house, and I followed him. "I'm just going to walk out of here. I'm going to walk until I don't feel like walking anymore. Fuck this house. Fuck everybody. Let them deal with it!!! Let the grass grow. Let the house explode. I don't give a shit. I'm just gonna walk."

    He then stopped recording. And then he kept walking.

    I literally laughed for five minutes before texting Mr. Thor and Joebear about the video Peter made. Then I texted Peter asking if he would upload that video.

    I tried to get back to work before Joebear called.

    "Hello Bae Whuhh," I yelled.

    "What the actual fuck is going on over there?" he asked.

    "Peter's house caused him stress and anxiety," I said as I laughed my ass off.

    "Pssh. This apartment causes me stress and anxiety. The maintenance people came over and tried to fix shit. I hate our goddamn refrigerator," Joebear said.

    "I know. I kick it every day before I go to work," I said.

    "Don't blame you. I'm going to the store to pick up food. Anything you want?" Joebear asked.

    "Yeah. Chocolate! You ate all my chocolate you big beast!!!" I yelled.

    "Sorry! I love chocolate. You can't leave chocolate around a bear and expect him not to eat it," Joebear said.

    "I know, but you're ridiculous," I said.

    "I know. But, I won't keep you. I just wanted to update you on our God-forsaken refrigerator" Joebear said.

    "No, it's okay. Thank you. I need to tell you Mr. Thor has an emergency meeting tomorrow! I forgot to tell you when I was home. I was half-asleep," I said.

    "Oh God! It's about the Chinese taking over the world and the organization, isn't it?" Joebear asked.

    "Mr. Thor mentioned something like that," I said. "How did you know?"

    "I watch YouTube, read the news, listen to Coast to Coast, and of course contact the Creator on a regular basis," Joebear said flatly.

    "That makes sense. Speaking of, Peter is now a truthist," I said.

    "Thank God! He finally learned. I will congratulate him when I see him tomorrow," Joebear said.

    "That's when he'll be available. He walked the fuck out of here. Even made a video of himself bitching about house repairs and how he is sick of his house," I said.

    "I know it! This apartment about makes me want to break shit. I can't imagine house repairs.... can I watch the video?" Joebear asked.

    "Yes. I need to get Peter to send a copy. I'm in the video trolling the fuck out of him toward the end. I will forever destroy him!!!" I shouted.

    "Haha. Yes, Baelove. I have to go. I need to shit now," Joebear said.

    "Okay baewhuhh!!! Love you, Boo!!!" I said excitedly.

    "Love you, too," Joebear said as he was growling to signify that poop will fly out of his ass. He hung up quickly.

    I chuckled and then did more business on my phone.

    Mr. Thor texted me, "LMFAO! LOL! Hahahaha. Wow!!! I can relate. Felt like that 10 years ago. Tell him to go to the fire department to get a burn permit!"

    I laughed my ass off before texting him. "GOOD IDEA!!!"

    I then saw Peter's text. "Yeah. I am uploading that video on every video site known to man just to fuck with the system. I will submit it to the Independent Film Channel, Amazon, Netfucks, Daily Motion, and Vimeo!!!!! I will upload my video to every goddamn news site in this fucking country. They deserve it. I will fight back! This is what I think of Chinese Real Estate!!!"

    I responded. "Thank you. Please send me a personal copy of that video. Also, Mr. Thor suggests a burn permit."

    I finished my job at the Parkers and then texted Mr. Thor that I was on my way to his place.